Day 9: The London Eye.

Posted on March 9, 2012 by LaLa

I wrote most of this post listening to the man in black (Johnny Cash) covering U2’s One, while eating a bowl of soup at EAT, after riding the London Eye.  Although it was overcast today (aka a clear day in Cork due to the lack of fog), the views were indeed spectacular.  I could almost make out the Queen having a cuppa at Westminster Palace.  Eye‘ve got my Eye on you, Sistah!  (Sorry, couldn’t resist).  And then it dawned on me that it wasn’t Buckingham Palace, but, you know, details.

  

Tourist season has not started just yet, so I was able to pretty well walk right into a pod with other voyeurs, the vast majority of whom did not speak a word of English. The wheel turned imperceptibly slowly, but before I knew it, we’d risen to the top, with a clear view of all the Olympic projects that are not yet finished. 

If you are afraid of heights, I’d say you might actually be alright on this, as there is a bench in the middle of the pod, away from the floor-to-ceiling windows.  But maybe not. Like all good tourist attractions, there is a sucker photo opportunity, which, at £10 for one photo, I proudly scoffed and declined.

I then made my way to the ‘free’ 4D Experience, which is a short 3D film on which you get wind and rain spewed on you. It was okay. On the way in, you pose for two sucker photos with different green screen backdrops, which are then available to purchase on your way out for £10 for one, or £12 for both. Recognizing the extraordinarily good value, I naturally opted to buy both, as when there’s a deal to be had, I’m in!  As an aside, the overall voucher volume has increased significantly of late, in the name of this project…  But that’s a story for another day.

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Day 8: Kilmainham Gaol.

Posted on March 8, 2012 by LaLa

Because not everything in life is rainy sunshine and roses, I took a trip to the darker side of Ireland’s past, and visited the Kilmainham Gaol today.  A breath of cheery fresh air prior to delving into its sordid depths came in the way of the lovely LimeTree Café across the street.  From there, it just got downright depressing. Image

Our mandatory tour guide was quite good (that means really good where I come from), going out of her way to remind us not to get separated from the group, as if anyone would want to stay behind for the craic and luxe accommodations. Sweet jayzus!

I did manage to learn a lot about the Easter Rising, and the characters after whom so many Irish streets are named, many of whom were executed at this very place. And also how children had been incarcerated as young as 5 years old for stealing or begging for food, and treated the same as the rest of the inmates, who were about half female.  I think this is taking equality a little too far… Part of the ‘reform’ of the gaols in the early 1900’s recognized the value of sunlight for the inmates.  What about the rest of Ireland – they deserve some, too?

An interesting note was the stark contrast between the older part of the gaol (the East wing), and the newer part (The West wing, with no sign of Rob Lowe anywhere), which got the fancy skylight.  Other than that, I’d say both parts have an awful lot in common – cramped, cold, damp quarters with crappy food and an extra dose of hopelessness.  Except for the rich guy who got his own office and visitors and food brought in.  The museum part of the Gaol is also worth browsing, particularly the political section upstairs.

Image  Image

In other news, I managed to whittle my luggage down even further from three to just two carry-ons.  The security guy was suitably impressed when he checked inside at how much I had managed to cram into my backpack. I was not so impressed at having to put it back together after the rifling, but what can you do.

Bonus Unrelated Travel Tidbit (a BUTT):  A little known secret is that Heathrow likes to welcome its passengers with a free upper body workout by purposefully jamming at least one wheel on every single trolley, sending vibrations straight up your arms. Untoned jiggly underarms must be offensive to the royals or something.  What other reason could there possibly be?!?!!?

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Day Seven: Hawk Walk.

Posted on March 7, 2012 by LaLa

Today was a chance to get reacquainted with Mother Nature and her wildlife.  Mission accomplished in a big way, thanks to Trevor Roche at Dublin Falconry!  While it was yet another day requiring the use of both sunglasses and raincoat at the same time, hail and gale force winds also made a reappearance to round out the four seasons in one day.  Astonishingly, I barely noticed, as I was deeply engrossed in watching the majestic flight of a falcon.  Trevor has partnered with Xtreme.ie to launch his own falconry business, which I got to preview, as it does not yet officially open to the public for another two weeks.  If you have not had the pleasure of visiting this site just north of Dublin, you have not experienced the likes of Irish paintball, rock wall climbing, zip lining, trout fishing, abseiling, and shooting range all together in one place.  Needless to say, the testosterone was palpable.

Upon finding the still under development falconry venue up on the hill, I was warmly greeted by Trevor’s two adorable mother and daughter dogs, Tess and Stella, as well as a very welcoming steaming cup of tea.  

I was then briefed on the basics of hawk and falcon handling, including the all-important arm and body position (note to self: do not let arm down to far, or bird starts climbing up towards your head – eek!).  That was enough prep for the first adventure, which was the Hawk Walk.  This consisted of having an impressively large hawk named Thelma (sadly, Louise offed herself a few years back by flying into a fence), fly and land on your outreached arm, and eat the food being offered (I won’t go into details in case you have a queasy stomach, but consider it a natural food source that is part of the circle of life – best not to dwell on that bit).  The bird is very majestic and well-trained.  I felt comfortable with Thelma immediately.  That’s her on my glove, doing her best hawk eye.

Next up was the Falcon Lure Display.  The falcon lets Trevor put what for the life of me looks like a miniature leather S&M mask on him.  I was trying not to laugh, so I can’t quite recall its exact purpose, but I suppose it calms the bird enough to let Trevor change its tethering to prepare it for its flight.

I'm too sexy for my hat

We venture out, and I learn how a falcon’s talons are not nearly as large or as strong as a hawk’s, who kill their prey by crushing them in their iron-clad grasp, whereas a falcon knocks out its victim in mid-air and then swoops by afterward to collect its prize.  It’s incredible how fast it flies.  I am mesmerized.  The lure is food tied to a type of stick on a rope that Trevor swings around to try and bait the falcon, who plays along nicely, flying around and swooping in to get at it.  Cue the hail.    Even the falcon suddenly seems a bit anxious for all of this to be over to get out of the freakish storm.  What can I say, but it was an amazing experience.  Two big claws up.

In completely unrelated irony, this sign in Ringsend made me giggle – enjoy:

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Day Six: Newgrange.

Posted on March 6, 2012 by LaLa

I thought I might mix things up and do something quasi-educational today, and so I coerced a proper Dubliner to join me on a day trip to Newgrange and the Hill of Tara.  There’s something quite Canadian about the fact that very few people outside of Ireland have heard of a place that is 500 years older than Stonehenge, and a 1000 years older than the Great Pyramids at Giza.  For real!  It’s supposed to be some kind of passage tomb or ancient temple… probably both.  What I can say is that it’s freaking cool.

We opted to join a tour with Mary Gibbons, who truly is a fountain of information pertaining to the region known as Brú na Bóinne (no idea how to pronounce that).  The first stop was the Hill of Tara, where, on a clear day (so, twice a year, maybe?) you can see three quarters of Ireland.  Not too shabby.  It was apparently the former capital of the region, perched high up, where they could see anyone approaching for miles – giving them plenty of time to peel the potatoes and put on the tea.  Like all good ancient historical sites, it is complete with its own fertility monument and spooky cemetery.

  

Even the statue of St. Paddy (who was not Irish, by the way) is outside the cemetery wall, with his hand kind of waving as in, no thanks, I’m good out here.

The tour then continued through the village of Slane, going past Slane Castle where other types of royalty, like U2, Madonna, and more recently Kings of Leon, have performed.  Outside.  Concert goers are bussed in by the thousands from Dublin, dropped about a half hour’s walk from the castle, and left to fend for themselves in the Irish weather to enjoy the show.  Ah, good times…

Next on the agenda was the main attraction, namely Newgrange, which is the key part of a Unesco World Heritage site.  It’s everything I imagined the grassy knoll should look like from the outside, but get to the front and go in, and you really get a feel for the technical ingenuity of the good old days in 3200 BC.  Sure, the joints are not as smooth as the Mayan or Incan stuff, but they had at least 1000 years to figure that bit out.  Cut them some slack!

   

You need to watch your head on the way out, by the way.  This bears repeating.  Even though our guide told us twice.  Just saying.

The passageway opens up into a high-ceilinged dome that has not leaked since it was built…  Um, what?  This is Ireland.  That’s insane!  The architect was apparently also a bit of an engineer, and overlapped the stones to build the roof of the main chamber with the stones angled down and away, so that the water would follow the gutters they niched out in the stones.  Oh, and the gi-normous stone they slapped on top, and huge layers of stone on top of that, and then the grass and earth on top of that… ok, that might also have something to do with it.  But still.  Not even any real mould to speak of after thousands of years in the land of perma-drizzle is just unbelievable!  I am humbled.  The best part of the whole place, though, is on the winter solstice, when the place is perfectly aligned with the sunrise to light up the whole chamber for 17 minutes.

Are you feeling lucky?  If so, you can enter the lottery along with some other 31,000 hopefuls to be there on the day, where they will admit all of maybe 20 people.  Those odds are actually pretty decent, when you compare them to playing the real lotto.  The fine print would be, of course, getting a sunny day and clear sky on the winter solstice in Ireland.  When you factor in that little nugget, I’d say you’re better off at the lotto booth.  Better yet, play the horses.  Much better odds.

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Day Five: Viking Splash Tour.

Posted on March 5, 2012 by LaLa

Today, I boarded a Viking Splash Tour to get in touch with my inner buccaneer.  Our departure was initially short-lived, as our guide/driver/captain Paddy (naturally), soon discovered the brakes were, well, um, missing.  But no worries, he regaled us with stories of the vehicle’s origins while a new water-bus came to collect us, and so, about 10 Irish minutes later, we were once again on our way.  As always in Ireland, safety comes first.  Except when it comes to the ridiculous posted speed limits (aka unreachable targets) on the narrowest, windiest back roads you’ve ever seen… But I digress.

I gleaned all kinds of pearls of wisdom from our captain, who has clearly kissed the Blarney Stone more than once, as he indeed has quite the gift of the gab.  It was apparently the Scandinavian Vikings (like Eric the Red, I imagine) who were responsible for bringing the infamous ginger hair to Ireland, and that the amphibious bus is called a DUKW, which was built by women at General Motors during the second world war, and was only intended to last about a year (ours was 7 years old, which may at least partly explain the disintegrated brakes).  I also learned that when our captain gave his wife a glass of wine the other day, she said “I love you”, to which he replied, “Really? I love you too, dear”, and she remarked, “I was talking to the wine”.  Oh yes, the Irish do enjoy their story-telling.

So the tour continued, and with the addition of a few giant pontoons, plus lifejackets for us not-so-hardcore Vikings, the DUKW ‘splashed’ into the water in the old reservoir which is now known as the Grand Canal Docks.  We got to see where U2’s recording studio is located, along with the Facebook and Google offices, plus the 8 million Euro landscaping and art installation of ‘trees and grass’ that has left more than a few Dubliners reeling.  Turns out that Celtic Tiger was much more of a kitty cat with a fur ball.  I personally kind of like the project… but I’m not the one still paying for it.

  

Overall, I thoroughly enjoyed the tour, thanks in no small part to our very entertaining guide.  If you ever find yourself in Dublin in need of a way to terrify random pedestrians with a hearty yell and a not-so-incognito getaway car, then this is absolutely the tour for you!  Just remember to dress warmly, as I froze my proverbial butt off (not to worry, it followed me home).

In completely unrelated food news, I noticed this very truthful poster in Smithfield today – happy belated Valentine’s Day. xx

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