You know the drill, put the bags out early, one last terrible breakfast at the Bunratty hotel and then out early to drive to the station outside of Limerick. This time, the train was not on time and so the bedraggled bunch began forming into little conversational knots. We got to know one of the last couples to elude us; the retired geology teacher (this is where he gave me the piece of the Burren) and his wife, who was a newly retired psychiatrist. You could have knocked me over with a feather because I would never in a million years have guessed her profession. Scottish and hilarious. This is one time I could have used the old adage about a book and its cover.
Our last share-the-table train ride was facing the the raucous Mike (who loved to needle us) and his more reserved wife, Ann. We knew that he had worked in an interesting field, before he retired but what came out in conversation on the train is that he has been in amateur theatrics for most of his adult life. He suddenly became less of a knucklehead and more serious about what it is that he loves to do and we had more in common, the longer we talked. You see, this trip was as much about our connection with people as with the journey itself. With all of the cheeky banter and a little knitting, the three hour ride was suddenly over, in the place where we had begun our big adventure. A replacement driver/coach was waiting for us at the station because Tom and our belongings were still on the highway.
It seemed quite odd to be in a whole new bus but he deposited us in the center of Dublin so that we could disperse and grab some lunch. Having walked the city, when we first got there, Rod and I made a beeline for a famous old tea shop on the Grafton Street, the pedestrian upscale shopping street. It hit the spot and gave us the energy for our final push of the day, which included the tour of Dublin Castle, which was the home of the Viceroy's of Ireland, when the Republic was still a possession of England.
Check out the Waterford Crystal chandeliers in the Portrait Gallery. It is so funny that this is where we learned about why shops ship Waterford home to you, if you buy a certain amount...the lead content of the glass sets off the metal detectors at the airport. Hah. True or false? I did not buy any so we will never know. :o)
I loved the stories about this throne, which was originally made for a really large and portly king but was last modified for Queen Victoria, who was such a wee thing that they had to chop off the lion heads at the feet and install a footstool.
This building is not a museum but a place where the president entertains and government work ensues. I felt fortunate to have a tour and thought of our own White House and all of the restrictions now placed upon that building, which made me quite sad.
The streets of Dublin were teeming with people on this day. Tom's wife had called him, as he drove us to the station (in an aside to the microphone that was always open...it's t'e wife.) reminding him to tell us that this was Blooms Day and that Dublin would be filled with people in fancy dress, reading from James Joyce Ulysses...on street corners and in pubs. it was all so very Irish. City Irish. The Roma were out in force on this day, as well. The lock shop folks called them Romanians and were warning about pick pockets but I realized that the streets WERE full of beggars in ethnic dress, where they had not been visible, the first time we were in the city. Tourist season had begun, in earnest.
One last dinner on our own before the morning's guided tour of Dublin, by Tom who explained about all of the things that we had seen on foot. It was really fun to see it all at the level of the coach windows, which gave us a different perspective. We had time to get a little rest before our farewell dinner at the Jameson building. (take the tour but the work is now done down in Cork.) We got snockered on whiskey as we exited the tour and had it reinforced at the dessert course with a strong Irish Coffee. It was loud and impersonal and kind of a sad way to end this trip...shouting over the din in this touristy place. We all kept looking for Tom and Simone and found that they had been spirited away to a guide/driver room. Sad.
We had to say our goodbyes in the lobby, that night, because the bulk of the people were catching a groaningly early bus to the ferry station to head back to Wales. How could it be over so soon? We had a plane to catch, in the morning and it seemed fitting to see Fionulla Flannagan lugging her suitcase through the parking lot of the airport. Where was I? Was this all a dream?
I don't know. I dream in color and the Ireland of my dreams looks like this.
And this...
And this...
Every family has their own color. This is why I love this place...the people.
Thank you, Tom O'Brien, for showing us your country and your culture. I knew it all along. When people ask Rod what he liked best, he is stumped...the landscape, he says. When they ask me, I write a travelogue and now I am done.