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.)

Its the height of tourist season here in Dublin. The centre core is thronged with people speaking all sorts of languages and of course, hordes (used with heavy and well selected connotation) of spanish school kids. I’ll avoid commenting on the kids for now, but after working may way through the throngs on Grafton street, I popped through St. Stephen’s Green on the way home. All grasses areas were filled with sun bathers (it was an absolutely brilliantly summer Sunday). Families, couples, single, dogs, prams and bikes - all collectively appreciating the day. What a wonderful feeling. But wait, the sound of a brass band fills the air and at the band stand, the Blanchardstown Band, dressed in white are belting them out. I am glad to have captured some of the ambience in this short clip. I have to admit to being, without much effort, off to a bygone era where a Sunday in the park listening to the band was a family highlight.

Click for a Show Live from the Bandstand

Tonight I get Michel Bublé from my balcony. A bit of a contrast, but a sweet summer serenade. I am truly blessed.

I traipsed out to Dun Laoghaire this morning to find the fresh fish market that Rebecca had alluded to. Alas, I seem to have missed it, but a trip to Dun Laoghaire is always a fine thing and the high speed ferry ws just into port. I briefly thought about jumping aboard and heading for a day trip to England, but realized that that might be a bit dicey without my passport. Can probably do it, but was hesitant. On the other hand, I did pop into a bike shop to see what I was facing to get something to get me about town and maybe ut into the country. I found a friendly and helpful shopkeeper and figured there was really not much to gain in shopping around. I picked up a Trek 7.3 FX for €499. Seemed like a fine deal for what I was getting and added a lock, helmet and pair of shorts to the mix. Toddled off to quickly acclimatize to driving on the side of the road I am less used to. Takes a wee bit of getting used to I must say. Also find the the traffic is a little less tolerant of bicycles than I am used to. Especially the bus driver…they seem to make sport of cyclists. Will have to learn fast.

On the other side of accomplishment, I discovered Jimmy of Jimmy’s barber shop in Dun Laoghaire and got my first Irish haircut. I was quite trepidatious about having my haircut by a barber I was unfamiliar with, but I think Jimmy did a fine job and was very efficient. A day well spent.

Discovered a very useful and tasty item this this am… porridge at the cafe! It was a lovely morning this and I was into the office by 7. Started a few routines on the new equipment and decided I’d take a nice read and latte, so wandered to our nearest cafe. The nearest Cafe Sol is located at the top of Upper Pembroke at Leeson and has a pleasant sit-in parlour and four very nice outside tables underneath an awning along the street. I was going to grab a pastry with a latte and then I see a wonderful sign: “Peigi says eat your porridge.” Brilliant! what’s more they offer two choices…honey and maple syrup, right across the counter. How absolutely perfect. My quest to find Bob’s Red Mill organic Steel Cut Oats here has been for naught. This is a pleasant happenstance. They even have two sizes: regular and large. The regular seeming quite generous to me, but the 20 ounce latte remains a staple. A shot of vanilla in the latte and I was good to go. The people hustling off to work, the folks stopping in for their morning fix and Dublin life passing me by, I had a nice sit and read for an hour before heading back to the DHO. One word of caution however: do not, at any cost, attempt to spoon porridge, using a smallish spoon over the resting arm your nicely pressed dress shirt! Oops.

One of the true pleasures of living where I do in Dublin is that I am adjacent to the sea. I was very excited about the possibilty of this befoe arriving and when ooking for a place, being near the coast was quite desirable. Although I am not right on the coast - I’m about a 10 - 15 minute walk - I can see the water from my apartment. Matt moved into his new place yesterday in Merrion Village and he has the enviable 2-3 minute walk to the Strand. Very, very cool. so, to christen his new place, we headed to the sea for a nice stroll…out into the surf. His friend Kristyn is visiting and we all waded about for a spell last evening. Simply perfect. Water was warm and the paragliders were out in force. Sweet.

I didn’t have any real sense of what role the Irish language plays in everyday life here. When I was over earlier I was intrigued to discover that there was an all-irish channel on TV (TG4) and that most streets had both the English and the Irish posted. I was aware that this is not a sound-out sort of language. Dun Laoghaire for example springs to mind. When I was over in 1991 I can certainly remember trying to make any connection between the place on the map and on the DART and one which people referred to clearly as Dun Leary. I have a sense that the Irish is used more now than it was twenty years ago and I find that a fine thing.
One place that I have found it is pretty much necessary to have some sense of irish is when it comes to the buses. If you are making a quick glance at the schedule listed on a bus post, without knowing that Ballsbridge is Droichead na Dothra (but these mean two different things), I would not be finding my way home. The use of Irish on the transit system seems preferred over English. The list of stops will be listed with Irish names and only major stops in English. I guess I’ll just have to brush up on my Irish.