Dublin, Google and Dublin
Our last full day in green green Ireland! We had to make the most of it. Trinity College was the closest walk from our hotel and so our first stop. A bespectacled college student in Harry Potter black robes gave us the tour. Oscar Wilde studied here and undoubtedly charmed and flamed his way through the school. The student seemed nervous but still churned out dates and facts as if she had been cramming for an exam. The college was built on monastic grounds as a Protestant university by Queen Elizabeth’s decree to counteract the Irish Catholic influence. I found interesting that the largest tree on campus, a sprawling long-armed thing, had successfully absorbed the overflowing water in the soil that was causing so much damaged to the buildings. The tree also fed off of the monastic cemeteries.
After the tour we were finally able to see the Book of Kells. This Celtic illuminated book and others in the collection were fascinating. The intricate details and minute flourishes of creativity within the confines of rigid Christianity made these cow skin pages so magical. The exhibit was very crowded so we didn’t have much time to deepen our understanding. Upstairs from the books was the Long Room, an old-style library containing mostly medical texts. Many of these less valuable but fascinating books were on display. The detailed drawings of human organs and blood systems were impressive especially since they must have been individually sketched with the limitations of printing presses.
The Trinity tour took longer than we expected and hunger had already reached us. We speed-walked to the East end of Dublin to recharge on Google food. M didn’t have any problems getting into the office with his ID. Much smaller and not as cool as the New York office: the cafeteria still offered heapings of tasty food. It was such a nice break from brown bread and pub food. And we could eat as much as we wanted. I wasn’t sure if I could quite blend in as another engineer though. Surprisingly, very few of them were Irish: there were many Indians and continental Europeans. I was, without a doubt, the only East Asian person there – a running theme in Ireland. We had a brief exploration where M could nerd out over Mac computers while I grabbed snacks. The rain was unrelenting now but we pressed on to return to city center. By then it was already late afternoon and the museums were getting ready to shut down. We almost ran through the National Museum of Archeology, past the lovely gold artifacts and the real, delicate objects from historic sites we had visited earlier. The Vikings, Romans, Celts and British had all left some evidence of their conquests in this museum. Irish history reminded me of Korea a bit, how there were constantly colonized by foreign powers.
Five o’clock was ticking closer so we rushed to Dublin Castle next. The last tour of the day wasn’t set to start for another twenty minutes so we sprinted to the neighboring Beatty Library like tourists on crack. This library was built by a mining millionaire who specialized in collecting Eastern religious art. The collection was impressive, especially since it was based off of this man’s private collection, but I had expected beautiful, dusty old books and Beauty and the Beast libraries. Fifteen minutes later we were back at Dublin Castle. We were on our very own Dublin Amazing Race. I had to collapse on a bench for a glorious few minutes before the castle tour. Our guide was rather pretty and definitely fashionable. She had brown hair, freckles and one of those cute pinched-up noses. She was quite professional since the Dublin Castle is still in use for national functions. Queen Elizabeth was the last visitor to grace these velvet hallways. Sparkling chandeliers, yellow curtains and pink velvet chairs made up one state room. Another room held the official throne that many British monarchs, including Queen Victoria, had presided in. There were the usual bronze busts and grand portraits. One chandelier, carved entirely of oak , was very majestic. The tour ended with a view of the underground structures of the castle, showing us the lingering remains of preceding forts and walls. Afterwards, we paused on a bench outside the castle, fully content with our efficient if exhausting sightseeing. We had seen everything we needed to see and the finish line was in sight.
We recharged at a scones and tea place nearby. The berry scone was a bit dry for my taste but hot tea and milk was just what I needed. With this incessant rain, I was starting to understand why tea was part of daily survival. We wandered around the city’s parks after tea. The Keats memorial was very disappointing and I could immediately tell it must have been built in the seventies, so misguidedly modern it was. It was supposed to capture the essence of Keats but only looked like an amputee. The Oscar Wilde statue was much better and actually representative of the writer’s flamboyant character. The statue Wilde reclines on the rock as if it were a velvet couch, dressed in a bright green blazer and wearing a dastardly grin. We took turns climbing up to sit and chat with Mr. Wilde. He must have been a fascinating conversationalist. It’s a shame the oppression of his time robbed him of ultimate success after his homosexual affair with a married man was exposed.
We tried very hard to live up to Ireland’s beer, beer and beer reputation as we sought out one last pub. This pub was packed full of locals just coming out of work. This was the largest convention of suits I had seen during our entire trip. Many American tourists found the same watering hole and I had fun peeking at the college students flirting with Irish boys and middle-aged tour groups trying to impress each other by talking about their houses, jobs or cars. We still could not let go of the thrill of vacation after we left so we sought out another bar. This one was close to Trinity College and almost identical to any bar you’d find in the U.S. The girls were made up, high-heeled and hair-straightened. One pair of awkward and not very college-looking fellows were brave enough to hit on a group of high-maintenance girls sipping gigantic cocktails. I wondered if any of them might actually get lucky tonight. They played 90’s classics, successfully flushing a week’s worth Irish jigs out of my ears. By the time we returned to that small, comfortable room in Cassidy’s Hotel, we could not have walked another step or sipped another beer. We had reached the depths of fatigue, the tip of homesickness and the brimming cup of adventure.
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