The videophone is one for a hasty jaunt through St. Stephen’s Green.

Jaunt Movie (Click to Watch)

A wee bit of wet, but a very warm welcome greeted me in Tipperary this weekend. My good friend Keza and her lovely girls are staying with the Ryans on their place near Atshanboy. I headed out early Saturday morning and the train to Thurles was efficient and ontime. Keza and Seamus Ryan met me at the station and I got a wonderful guided tour of the rolling lush scenery that is Tipperary. It was a treat. Despite persistent rain, Seamus gave me a quick run around some of their fields and tour of the farm. We also took a quick look to one of their houses - a fixer-uppers dream just waiting for the right taker. We attended a christening at the afternoon and I was welcomed by the O’Dwyers to the family party. We watched the GAA and partook of a lavish potluck. Everyone was open and welcoming and made me feel just great.
After mass we had a lovely evening of deep discussion. Sunday found Keza, the kids, Seamus and I off for a castle tour and we spent a couple hours at Cashel. Absolutely spectacular! Part of the edifices on the Rock of Cashel date from 550AD and it is a site connected with Munster royalty until the 12th century, when it was gifted to the Irish Church and became the seat of the Archbishop of Cashel. The enormous limestone rock upon which the cathedral is constructed is absolutely immense, the buildings some of the most spectacular ruins that I have ever witnessed. Mary, our lovely tour guide held us enraptured with tales, ribald commentary and a sparkling whit. We learned about the ancient cross of St. Patrick around which one can gain eternal immunity from toothaches if you can make your hands meet on giving it a bear hug. Keza has a picture of me desperately trying to accomplish said feat. The cross is placed on the supposed coronation stone of the kings of Munster, although there is some dispute over whether the rock we saw was the actual stone of history. Upstairs are the painstakingly reconstructed vicar’s choir featuring goat’s skin windows and a marvelous ribbed ceiling of Irish oak. Proceeding outside we were regaled with stories of the renegade archbishop who held both the protestant archbishopric of Armagh simultaneous with the Roman Catholic one of Cashel, all the time writing sweet nothings to Elizabeth I. We appreciated the awe-inspiring over-construction of the cathedral, Cormac’s chapel, a curious round tower and a huge assortment of stunning celtic crosses. The graveyard surrounding the cathedral is still receiving internees and the views from it are spectacular in all four directions. The rock is a commanding presence over the countryside and it is clearly evident why it would have been chosen as the seat for the high-king of Munster. It’s very difficult not to be overwhelmed by the sheer scale of Cashel Rock and the buildings on it. The roofless cathedral has a commanding majesty even missing significant portions of what was once a pre-medival stronghold. I was very reminded of Laon in France, with a rougher, more rugged visage.
We visited the reconstructed Holy Cross Abbey on the way back to the Ryan farm. It to was breathtakingly beautiful. All the more so for it having been a roofless and rundown ruin twenty years ago, painstakingly reconstructed using original techniques. Although the abbey dates from more recent times - the 14th century - it has a wonderful serenity to it and the craftsmanship in the reroofing is simply brilliant. Up Tipp!

One thing that has enamoured me of this town is the wealth of little things going on that one can avail oneself of informally. Today is an excellent case in point. I headed over to the Academy at noon to help with some interviews for an IT position there. I was a few minutes early, so I cut down Kildare Street and popped into the National Library. They have a W.B. Yeats exhibition on and I had discovered this amazing display featuring notable Irish voices reading selected poems. The readings are delivered in this gazebo-like area with images projected aside words on translucent screens. It’s a uniquely captivating experience and I find myself transported from the work-a-day world onto (dare I say it) a transcendental plain. Its really a very special experience and I took ten minutes to savour a few poems and then headed onto my appointment. Entrance is free and its just inside the building. Its a splendid little place along the way. It allows you to spike your journey with some variety.

I work quite near St. Stephen’s Green and it has the obvious attractions of parkland, strollers (flaneur) and serendipitous engagement - like the brass band from two weekends ago. I live beside the RDS (Royal Dublin Society) grounds and one of the highlights of the year here is the annual Horse Show. It started the other day and has been attracting huge crowds. I don’t even have to contend with the horsey set though, as I can sit on my balcony and it overlooks the show grounds. Its quite a treat. The dressage, show jumping, all sorts of wonderful displays…and I don’t even have to leave my home. I remain truly blessed in the wonderful little diversions.

So…I finally made it out of Dublin. A month here and I had remained largely confined, but by the good graces of my friend Mary, I spent a lovely day traveling down to the South coast of Ireland. Destination: the Irish riviera at Trá Mhór (I honestly didn’t realise that that was a used term when I composed and published this, but lo and behold some clever marketeers actually use it). The journey was a treat. We passed through the stunning Sally Gap, along Braveheart Avenue (I kid you not, they seem to have renamed the road through the gap after the movie filmed there. We dropped into Glendalough, saw the magnificent round tower, located in an equally fascinating graveyard at St. Kevin’s church. We also discovered that St. Kevin was quite the entrepreneur, establishing a mobile kitchen, a craft shop and a pub onto which he proudly emblazoned his name;-)
Mary came superbly prepared with a full picnic lunch which we enjoyed in a roadside lay by. After repasting, we headed south closer to the coast and made an attempt to find Father Murphy’s Boolavogue. We followed a couple of signs and then as we should have been close, no more signs. We made a turn (incorrect as we eventually learned as the signs began a few km further on pointing backwards). We’ll find it next time. Passing through Enniscorthy we eventually reached Waterford. A lovely town lining the river Suir and clearly attached to its own Viking roots. It too features a round tower, abutting which buildings have since been constructed.
Heading out of town we headed for Mary’s hometown of Trá Mhór. It’s a lovely seaside village with an absolutely awe-inspiring beach. I learned that Trá means strand and Mhór means big. It did not disappoint. There were dueling circuses in town (I do really think that the plural is circi) and the promenade was packed with bank holiday circus goers. The weather was lovely and after a tea with her brother and a chance to see the family demense, she dropped me at the station in Waterford so I could catch the train back to Dublin. I now write from the train as we *speed* through the Irish countryside.
It’s a 3 hour trip from Waterford to Heuston Station in Dublin. We are now at Athy. When we hit Kilkenny, we turned around and headed back for Waterford. Well, hopefully not too far, but as it turns out its not a through station. Additionally, the mainline we are following is a single track and so we stop every now and then (sometimes in the stations - sometimes in the middle of nowhere).
An absolutely lovely bank holiday.

Ancient Irish Tea Ritual

Well, our first adjacency to a bank holiday here is Ireland. Bank holidays seem to exert a curious waterfall effect on all days surround. The academy closed an hour early on Friday, because Monday is a bank holiday. Not complaining about that. I was going to avail myself of library services today as Matt alerted me that my local public library is right across the street. But…because Monday is a holiday, the bank is closed today, Saturday. Sure, makes all the sense in the world.

Anyway, a slow start to the weekend, as I had a number of errands to run about town. All accomplished by noon, I decided to check out a restaurant recommendation from one of our pals at the academy Vanessa Carswell, who writes a foodie column for the Sunday Business Post. The Winding Stair is located Liffeyside at Ormond Quay. There’s a lovely little bookshop downstairs with new and used books. Upstairs there is an airy open restaurant with spectacularly large windows overlooking the river. The fare (as promised) was solid Irish. Today’s specials featured Irish Chicken, Lamb, Haddock and fourth which I can’t remember. I started with an amazingly rich fish chowder that was seasoned with chorizo sausage. Normally, I’d have wondered about such a combination, but I like them both, so hazarded an order. Scrumptious. My main was the lemon and herb haddock, which was an ample portion and tasty, but a tad greasy for my liking. One thing I have noted with the fish and chips here in Dublin is how amazingly light the batter is and possibly (in my dreams) somewhat less unhealthy than back home. Partnered the meal with a Celtic Wheat Beer. Quite nice for an afternoon nosh.

Finding myself on the north side of the Liffey (a rarer occurence for me), I had the thought to bike on out to Howth and check out a few northern neighbourhoods. Although as I sit back in ballsbridge and write this, the sun is shining nicely, the weather has been rather changeable today. Thus, even in the short jaunt as far as St. Anne’s Park in Clontarf, there were at least three points at which I sought some respite from the rain under a handy tree (or at St. Patrick’s in Drumcondra). Managed a very leisurely journey through Drumcondra, Fairview, Kilester, Coolock, Raheny, Kilbarack and Sutton. The route I happened upon was rather urban, moving along relatively busy roads. When I hit the spit of and heading out towards Howth I discovered that there is a lovely coast road. Should have figured that one. Took it the way back and it was a far more enjoyable journey. The city has created a well maintained and scenic promenade along marshes and the wild of the north Dublin coast. There is a gold course located out from the coast along a casueway and the lovely twin smokestacks of the Dublin powerstation guide you back home. Far more conveniently and unbeknownst to me on the way out, was the outer bridge over the Liffey takes you right into Irishtown/Ringsend and I am home in 10 minutes. A rather long journey, but one with very cool finds.

We work in a charming Georgian townhouse on Upper Pembroke Street at Fitzwilliam Square in Dublin. The DHO rents a series of offices in here and it isa very pleasant surround. The neighborhood is a busy one, but largely of pedestrians and of tourists. Over the past few weeks we have all been commenting on how many tourist photos we must now be appearing as they let off busloads to marvel at the colourful doors and ornate doorways. There is a large green area in the centre of the square with dense trees surrounding it and charming grassed areas in side. The Georgian terraces are quite impressive and give real sense of a Dublin of days past.

For all of the wonderful architecture, I had, to my chagrin, not dug any deeper into the historical connections with the area. That is, until today. There is a lovely closed park in the centre of Fitzwilliam Square, and I couldn’t figure out how to get in. Well…as it turns out, it is a private park only available to the householders surrounding the park. I am now trying to see if we qualify as such as I can get in. I have just heard back that we do and this feels all so clubbish.
However, when I was wandering about websites to discover the bye laws surrounding the park, I discovered that our address has some greater notoriety. Many of the buildings in the area have little plaques on them, noting famous personages that were born or lived in the the area. Our address is a little more tragic. 28 Upper Pembroke (as well as a couple other houses) were targeted by Michael Collin’s squads during the sweep of Sunday 21 November 1920. These early morning lightning raids were intended to decapitate the british intelligence efforts in Ireland. Throughout the city, british agents whose addresses and whereabouts had been obtained in the weeks previous were hunted down in homes, parks and cafe’s. In the case of 28 Upper Pembroke, a certain Captain Fitzgerald was killed here and papers were found in his possession detailing the movements of senior IRA figures. Apparently four agents were gunned down in this townhouse alone. For those of you that may have seen Neil Jordan’s Michael Collins, these same assassinations were followed by the wanton slaughter of innocent civilians and players at Croke Park during a GAA match.
The War of Independence was fought right on our front steps. Perhaps I will give second thought to working late in the office here. Ohhhh…scary!

I got a new Royaltek RGM-3800 GPS Receiver and Data Logger today. My first tests are very impressive and posted a longer review to Randomosity.

Last night marked a first visit to the IFI (Irish Film Institute). The IFI, I have gathered and can now confirm is a wonderful venue for those in the know. They feature a full slate of movies, largely European indie flicks, definitely of eclectic rather than popular taste. Last night for example featured: Paris, City of Men, L’Heure d’été and Ledjis.
Last night’s objective was to see the rather innocuously named Paris. Read the movie summary, but went in with little idea about what we were going to see. This 2008 film from Cédric Klapisch earns a very strong must see recommendation! It centres on the flamboyant professional dancer Pierre (Romain Duris), who has been diagnosed with a terminal heart condition and his sister (Juliette Binoche) who sheds work responsibilities to move in and care for him. Much in the style of his earlier, and superb L’Auberge Espangnole, Klapisch ingeniously webs a series of tangentially interlocking story lines. He keeps you guessing at to when and where the stories will intersect, and aside from some rather clumsy foreshadowing in one of the tragic sequences, he plays his hand well. The characterization is superb and the expressions, smiles, curses, antics of our players take us on a emotional journey into their lives, pains, and struggles. This is all balanced against a sumptuous treatment of the urban fabric of Paris. Moving from aerial shots from balconies and rooftops, to the catacombs to Versailles, the film finds root in the homes of Pierre and of Paul, an aging professor (Fabrice Luchini) whose father’s death suddenly makes him face a narrowly successful but largely unrealized life. Paris features a wonderfully evocative dream sequence, blending animation and a Second Life sort of effect. A further playful striptease sequence by Binoche to the tune Sway, is a waggish treat.
There are probably one or two character/stories too many, but this barely detracts from the overall experience. One is drawn into Paris, into the lives of the characters and their neighbourhood. The setting is a sumptuous treat, Paris in its splendour but with an unkempt, complex, unresolved side exposed with aplomb. Four and half of five stars.

This is cross-posted to Randomosity.

Matt has posted a quick one about our jaunt out to Dalkey. As you may have noted from my earlier post, I grabbed a bike yesterday. Great move. The exhiliration of being mobile and able to quickly get about under one’s own steam makes a great experience even better. Despite repeated warnings about the state of Irish roads and the aggressiveness of Irish drivers, we had a splendid journey. There was nary a cloud in the sky, the roads were lightly travelled, we learned the rules quickly and moved smoothly. Despite being a rusty in the ol’ joints I seemed to be able to keep up with Matt’s pro pace. We had a morning coffee, banana and water at the Pavilion in Dun Laoghaire on the terrace. Wandered a bit (wisely picking up some sunscreen at the boots) and then heading off a little further along the coast. We found the swimming spot at 40 feet and appreciated the ‘fun all the time’ at the funland in DL. We cut through a few irishly-narrow lanes on the incline to Dalkey. When we stopped for a quick orientation at an intersection, apparently we looked appropriately quizzical enough that a chap in land rover actually blocked the intersection to inquire as to whether we needed directions. What a thoughtful gesture. We took a leisurely lunch at the Queens Arms (sp) in lovely Dalkey village. I enjoyed some fine lamb’s liver on mash. Picture follows Satiated we decided to head back to town and plot our future trips further afield. A great Sunday jaunt. Shawn finds himself pleased that the joints haven’t seized and he’s not too worn in the posterior. I took a side trip over to the UCD campus on my way back. A sprawling place (reminds me of the University of Waterloo) and then back into town to try to pick up a few missing items in my kit bag. It was there that I found the wonderful brass band in St. Stephen’s (see previous post.)