Footloose in Dublin

April 6

The close of a long day of walking.

Three missions for the day: to re- visit Trinity College to hit the Book of Kells bookshop; to try to find the Irish sweater store over by Grafton Street; and go pay our respects to Oscar Wilde, or at least his bronze likeness perched on a rock in a park. The day should also include a beef and Guinness pie at Madigans Pub on Earl Street, some adult beverages, and no motorized transport. And at the end of the day, another meal at the Italian restaurant half a block down the river walk from the hotel.

Our start was delayed by another fine breakfast in the hotel. No matter, plenty of time. We set out for the Book of Kells, only to find a sign stating that the gate was locked due to the Trinity Ball on the grounds on Friday night, which is the reason we were untimely ripped from the venue the day before and missed the bookshop. Oh, well, on to the sweater store. Not to be found. Dang!

Then Paula notices another entrance to the college, and suggests a flank assault. Entering through a small warren, we find both the exhibit and the store open for business. Two Celtic art ties and a postcard later we emerge, renewedly hopeful of success on our second mission and we hike up Grafton Street.

This is a crowded pedestrian shopping street, beginning at Molly Malone’s statue sure to fascinate the amercans with money who know little else of Dublin’s fair city, and winding down to St. Stephens Green, and a very Babel of languages, buskers, street people, and shoppers, pushing past stores and fast food places that would not be out of place in London or Chicago.

Pianist on wheels on Grafton Street

After vainly searching for a knit hat for Paula, it’s on to College Green and St. Stephens Green to look for Oscar. We made the whole circuit of the park, but Oscar did not seem to be in residence. Resolved to seek some beverage, we retrace our steps to find The Bank, Dublin’s best pub in several years voting.

The Bank

After a pause to refresh and the discovery that Oscar is actually at home in Merrion Square, it’s none too early to make our way to Madigans for some pub food. On arrival we find the joint is packed and SRO, all eyes riveted on the TV’s showing the running of a British steeplechase. These horseraces are controversial these days, as the last several important races have resulted in the deaths of several horses, and Parliament is poised to outlaw them as they have outlawed fox hunting for cruelty to animals. The sport remains popular on the telly, though, and not soul of any age stirred from their seat during the race. Nor did any react to the falls, the riderless horses that peeled off from the pack, nor the one riderless horse that finished the race in second place.

Then folks began to trickle out. We secured seats but found that the usual menu was suspended for the weekend in favor of a carvery, which was less interesting. So after a quick Jameson and ginger ale, we headed back to the hotel, to put down packages and put up feet before dinner. My pedometer says 3.9 miles of concrete, asphalt, and cobblestones.