Having gone to bed at 5.00 last night, we woke rather early to a bright sunshiny day. Too early for Dublin. We went out walking, as our puppy has trained us to do. We were in search of breakfast, but the bustling lively restaurant-filled city was still tightly shuttered and fast asleep. Down through Temple Bar, along the River Liffey, along big streets and little cobbled streets. I am always impressed with the displays of flowers in the warmer months of place with cold climates. The petunias here spill from every window. Finally found a place offering a big breakfast which we ate gratefully.
We opted for a green tourist bus tour on one of those open-top buses, and gloried in the sunshine as we drove around the city, starting and ending at St. Patrick's Cathedral. There is quite a focus on alcohol here with sacred sites such as the enormous Guiness factory, and the Jameson whiskey distillery. We drove through the Liberties, down little winding streets, high on the hill and down by the river. We drove down O'Connell Street past the Gresham Hotel where my sister and I stayed for one night on our trip to Ireland in 1971. It was a different place then. The homogenisation of the world is so evident everywhere - the same names everywhere. Topshop, Zara, Body Shop, Pandora, Vuitton, Prada and all the airport familiars.
When we returned to St. Patrick's we went in and looked around, doing homage to Dean Swift. Beautiful cathedral, wonderful stained glass, and a choir singing and bell ringing. We thought about Swift's Modest Proposal and saw a very early copy. I bought a snowdome, as one would. Took a few pictures, as one would.
We sallied forth once more, and amazingly enough found ourselves at the Powerscourt centre, where there just happens to be a yarn shop. And while I was in there, some Donegal yarn just happened to leap into my hands.
When we were at Trinity yesterday I noted the existence of the Science Gallery, so we made that our next destination. Along the way there were some varied manhole covers, including a Warrior and a Chieftain.
faces. We saw a vast display of gold, but feel we are getting jaded by fabulous displays of gold after the Inca Gold exhibition. Are we getting old? Have we seen too much? Are we just travel-weary?