Shopping, Gael, Shopping, and Shopping, (Oh, and Riverdance)

Our correspondent today is Tom Wintering:

This morning, our last full morning in Ireland, we had the opportunity to finally eat food that hadn’t been deep fried, buttered, or, well, included beans (yes, apparently in Ireland, baked beans are customary in the Ulster fry). Several of us, myself included, felt so excited to be eating regular food that we even tried the blood sausages offered by the Jurys Inn breakfast buffet.

When we had completely stuffed ourselves, we set off for Trinity College, located several blocks from Jurys, where we planned on meeting up with the Belli family to see the Book of Kells. For those of you who have not heard of this extraordinary work of art (it truly is a work of art), it dates back to around the 9th century C.E. The Book of Kells is an illuminated manuscript containing the four Gospels and is filled with ornate artwork painstakingly penned by Celtic monks. While at Trinity College, we learned that, contrary to what we had believed, when a monk made a mistake on any page, whether it was a simple grammatical error or a sentence misplaced, the monk would draw in a figure, perhaps a lion for St. Mark or an ox for St. Luke, over the mistake. One would never know that these drawings camouflaged mistakes, each so beautifully made. We then proceeded to the second floor of the exhibit where Trinity College had an exhibit on Napoleon with some of the manuscripts displayed dating back hundreds of years.

We next walked the couple blocks to Dublin Castle. Here, we were supposed to take a tour together but, due to the two hour-long wait, we opted to skip the tour and instead begin our day of shopping. While the rest of the group set off together, Mr. Bizga, Ms. Duarte, Ryan, and I hopped onto the hop-on, hop-off bus and drove to Kilmainham Gaol (Jail) to see where Irish nationalists and other prisoners were held and executed during the mid-19th century and early 20th centuries. We learned that during the Great Hunger (the Great Potato Famine) many people would intentionally commit a crime so that they could go to jail, where food and shelter had to be provided. At one point there were over 20,000 prisoners in the 100 cell jail. The tour guide also informed us of the procedure for public executions; before a person was executed, they went to mass. After mass, the person, man, woman, or child, was led through a door behind the altar and across a bridge to the outside wall of the jail where they were publicly executed. One story that drew the attention of everyone on the tour was of a man sentenced to death. This man, the Irish patriot Joseph Mary Plunkett, insisted on getting married to his love, who was not in jail, before he was killed. The government acquiesced and the marriage went through. They were given ten minutes to spend together after the ceremony, during which time they were surrounded by armed guards, to say their goodbyes. The prisoner was then taken away and executed; his bride never married another man after her husband was killed. We learned that children were also incarcerated, some of whom had committed crimes, others whose parents were imprisoned, thus requiring the children to stay in jail. In a small courtyard, the children had to march in a circle with their eyes down and mouths closed for upwards of three hours each day. This short time outside of the prison was their only time spent outdoors.

When the tour was over, the four of us got a taxi, not wanting to wait for the hop-on, hop-off bus again, and drove back into the inner city. Here, Ms. Duarte left us, leaving Mr. Bizga, Ryan, and me to wander the shops together.

The first shop we entered was essentially a shop for the aging men of Dublin as it was filled with tweed coats and canes. Because of our youthful ages, the shop owner seemed quite surprised that we had entered the shop, and even more surprised when I bought a shillelagh. After leaving the old-timers’ shop, we walked until we found the best clothing store (well, it was the best according to Mr. Bizga) in the vicinity – Thomas Pink. The reason for our search to find this “best clothing store” was that Ryan had saved all of the money he had brought on the trip for one thing, an extremely expensive tie (yes, I agree, this is a bit, well, interesting). When we had purchased said tie, we continued down the street, stopping to get a reservation for dinner at Fire before Riverdance. While walking, my shillelagh swinging at my side, an Irishman and a teenager came up to us, the man commenting, “Hey, that’s a nice, big stick you’ve got there!” and then proceeding to ask us if we wanted to come to a bible study that afternoon. As we responded, in our American accents, that we simply couldn’t because we were going to Riverdance, the man’s expression turned from one of questioning to one of utter shock (it seems that he thought we were Dubliners, not Americans). He said a kind goodbye, and then he and the boy power-walked on down the street. After several minutes of laughing, we continued in the opposite direction. We then spent the next several hours shopping, walking, and talking, until we separated, Ryan meeting up with the rest of the group, while Mr. Bizga and I went back to the hotel-- Mr. Bizga to update the blog, and I to begin writing postcards to everyone back in the states.

Later, when the rest of the group had returned to the hotel, we all walked to Fire for dinner before going to the theater. After a wonderful dinner and an even better dessert (Bailey’s Irish Cream ice cream = heaven), we ran to the theater, only minutes before the performance began. Luckily, we made it in time for the show. The next three hours were a blur of feet and of time, ending far too soon. After the show we walked back to the hotel, stopping at several pubs (not to drink, just to listen to the live music) along the way.

Back at the hotel, everyone went to their separate rooms… except for Mr. Bizga and me. I realized that I had not purchased stamps for the postcards I had spent all afternoon writing. We ran to the nearest late-night convenience store, praying that they would be open and would have international stamps. When we had purchased the stamps and made it back to the hotel, we followed the example of the rest of the group and went to bed, sad that it was our last night in Ireland but ready for our departure early in the morning.

Here is a brief addendum from Ryan Belmore:

Thank the Lord for fresh fruit and for the absence of the Ulster fry. Our breakfast was (finally) comestible. The croissants and cantaloupe compensated for the Barista’s inexplicable absence (why wouldn’t the businessmen staying there want espresso?). Nevertheless, we walked with full stomachs to Trinity College and the Book of Kells, a bible known for its calligraphy and imagery scripted in the Dark Ages. The book itself was informative in that it showed the group’s self-professed “Latin Scholars” how little Latin they knew.

Leaving the manuscript and the slew of international tourists, we progressed to the Dublin Castle where Mr. Bizga distributed our “Hop on, Hop off” bus tickets and unleashed us on the town. I’m unsure where the others dispersed to, but the teachers, Tom, and I went to Kilmainham Gaol (where the British kept Irish “traitors”) and toured the dank, supposedly “reformed” jail. After returning to the city center via cab, Ms. Duarte left us to do some shopping on her own. We followed Mr. Bizga to get a taste of the “simple” life – la vida Bizga.

In fairness to the other members of our group, I will not enumerate my day’s activities because they surely have their own stories to tell. Our pre-theater dinner at Fire was, per Mr. Bizga’s request, simple and palatable. We ran (literally) to the theater with just barely enough time to sit before Riverdance started. Mr. Bizga purchased horrible tickets in the ninth row; we could see nothing but the entire stage. After the show we took pictures of Sarah’s and Gabby’s outrageously fake eyelashes outside before heading back to the hotel and into bed. Tomorrow at dawn we will depart for home.