Present Joys

Part of a series.

Though Karen and I had been planning to take a bus from County Waterford to Dublin, John and (aunt) Karen generously offered to drive us themselves. We fly out of Dublin tomorrow morning, so we just have the tiniest amount of time to explore this place. The familiar old experience of toting around our heavy bags and wandering around trying to find yet another strange Airbnb makes it feel like we’ve been traveling for an eternity. This day in Dublin will be fun, but we’re both ready to be back home. So we dropped off our bags at our new Airbnb, which is close to the city center on the north side of the Liffey. This place is weird—it’s a big downtown apartment complex built in the 1980s, and it feels like a college dorm. Our room is clean and sparsely furnished, but the place is messy and uncomfortable. Just one night here, then I’ll be in my own bed!

We made a short to-do list for Dublin, and at the top of it is the Book of Kells. So after setting down our bags, we walked straight to Trinity College (did I mention it’s cooooooold here?). The Book of Kells is located on the lower floor of the old library building. The exhibition itself, once we got through past the gift shop and ticket counter, consisted of a dimly-lit room with about five separate zones of minor artifacts on display, all things relating to the scribal tradition. This room opened onto an even darker room, empty except for a display case housing the manuscripts themselves. Each of the four gospels was rebound as separate books in the 1950s, and two of these are visible here. Seeing these pages—even just these two spreads—was the fulfilment of a childhood dream for me. The exhibition opened out into the old library’s Long Room—one of those places I’ve seen pictures of all my life. It was surreal to stand there. All the wood felt ricketier than I pictured it being.

After looking around Trinity for a bit, we walked farther west through Temple Bar and along the Liffey. It would be fun to come back here when we have more time. Our next destination was Kilmanhiam Gaol, situated on what is basically the other side of town. Along the way, we stopped to look at the Church of St. Augustine and John (a terrifyingly ornate Roman Catholic church in the middle of a very Catholic country, fulfilling all sorts of romish clichés), the old archway of the Great Music Hall on Fishamble Street (all that remains of the venue which hosted the first public performance of Handel’s Messiah), and the Irish Museum of Modern Art (situated on a beautiful piece of land but unfortunately closed on mondays). When we finally got to the Gaol, we bought tickets for the next available tour (2:30 pm), then ate a late lunch at a nearby pub while we waited.

The Kilmanhiam Gaol tour, along with some exhibitions in the neighboring courthouse, was very slick. Our tour guide gave off a theater-school graduate vibe, and as we toured the building, he told human interest stories relating to the events of the Easter Rising. I’d recommend the tour to anyone with some time to spend in Dublin. The only terrible thing about it was its size: there were something like 35 people in the tour group. They’re really raking in the cash with this thing!

By now, the sun was setting. We stopped at St. Patrick’s Cathedral on the way back to our place. This is the largest church building in Ireland. And the tile floor is to die for. St. Patrick’s is the only church we paid to see during our trip, but it was worth the price of admission. But at this point we were so tired and cold. After a pit stop back at our Airbnb to put on some more layers, we ended up in a burrito place in Temple Bar, and the food was great. Just up the road, we stopped in at the Palace Bar. Although selected mostly on a whim, it turned out to be a great choice. Though there was no music going (it was a monday), the back room of this place was the coziest place on the planet at that particular point.

Tomorrow we fly home. Tonight we sleep in this weird, vaguely uncomfortable Airbnb.

Part of a series.

Early sunday morning, Karen and I woke early and piled in John’s car for a short early-morning hike through the wilderness camp that he and (aunt) Karen work to support, located just a few miles from their home, near the foot of the Comeragh Mountains. Even in deep autumn, the campgrounds were lovely. I can only imagine what a charming place this is during the growing season.

We headed home, switched into some nicer clothes, and drove another 45 minutes to the Beachy Amish Mennonite church in Dunmore East (the only such church in Ireland). After worship, John, Karen, Karen, and I had a lasagna lunch in the church’s multipurpose room (so we didn’t have to go all the way home just to eat!). After lunch, we drove through Dunmore East itself, a fishing village with an attractive harbor. John parked the car and we walked along the coast on a narrow but well-beaten path. What is it with the grass here? It’s literally like a trampoline. Like the grass has covered itself with protective cushion of grass. It’s literally emerald-colored, and the sky is sapphire, and it’s all wonderful.

We traced our way back home along the coast, stopping a few times to take in the sights and the. I’ve missed seeing great works of culture during our time in the Irish countryside, but the beauty of God’s creation here cannot be overstated. Back home, Karen made us hot soft pretzels, which we washed down with milk (by the way, plain old commodity milk here tastes grassy and buttery—nothing like the stuff back home). Tomorrow we bid adieu to our family and head to Dublin.

Part of a series.

Today was our most relaxed yet. It was a bit of a forced relaxation, since we are staying with Karen’s aunt and uncle in rural Ireland with no transportation. But we had a nice morning exploring Rathgormack, which isn’t much larger than the one street and the few buildings on it. We visited a nearby graveyard (the town’s “old graveyard”). Someone was clearly mowing the place, which must have been a tough job given the abundance of broken and out-of-place headstones. The odd thing about this graveyard wasn’t the old headstones—it was the fact that, given some of the new headstones, people were clearly still being buried there. Past and present in close and strangely beautiful quarters.

The shop that John and (aunt) Karen manage was having a “customer appreciation day” with a cookout and a little outdoor party, so Karen and I walked over there and visited for a while. I think all the village residents were out and about! We ate lunch at the party before hitting the road for a little outing with John and Karen.

They took us to Hook Lighthouse, the oldest continuously operating lighthouse in the world. We had a tour of the old structure (led by a guy named Jamie—one of the kindest and most gregarious people I’ve ever encountered) which consisted of a walk up the spiral staircase with stops on each floor. The view from near the top is spectacular.

And then the sun set. Wow, was this a whole day? Another sleepy ride home and another great time of visiting around John and Karen’s kitchen table. Then, sleep.

Part of a series.

Today’s our last day in Scotland, and our only day in Glasgow. What were we thinking? I guess one day in Glasgow is better than no days. But sheesh. This place has so much to offer. Here goes nothing…

After a nice breakfast at Pret a Manger (I had a smoked salmon sandwich), we walked over to George Square to catch the first city sightseeing bus of the day. If you’ve been to any of the top 100 or so busiest cities on the planet, you’ve probably seen one of these things—open-top double-decker buses with hideous graphics on the side. Normally I wouldn’t be caught dead in one of them—but we only had one day here, and no way to get around, and the hop-on/hop-off bus seemed like our best option. Plus, Rick Steves said to do it.

So we rode the bus to our first destination, Glasgow Cathedral and the Necropolis (which, by the way, is the coolest word ever). The Cathedral was beautiful—yet another beautiful church, but this one was especially huge, with an expansive lower level. After another quick bus ride, we took a quick stop-off at the People’s Palace, a cultural museum of Glasgow on the east end of town. I appreciated some of the displays on the historic poor conditions of the city—I learned some crazy statistic like only two-thirds of Glaswegians had home plumbing in 1960. (Don’t quote me on that, internet.) There’s also a gigantic glasshouse connected to the building, filled with tropical plants, but it was closed for the season. I think we spent 45 minutes there before running (literally running) back to the bus stop to get back on. We’ve got a lot to see in this town!

Our next stop was the Riverside Museum, located on the banks of the Clyde on the west side of town. This is a very groovy contemporary structure which houses tons of vehicles throughout history (cars, trucks, RVs, trains) and other transportation artifacts. A lot to appreciate there. Just outside, floating in the river, is one of the last wooden Clyde-built ships, built in 1896 and used for 70 years in the Spanish navy before returning to Glasgow to be a floating museum. Minimal guard rails made it easy to walk all over the ship. Definitely worth the price of admission (a suggested donation)!

Ignoring a growing desire for lunch, we next got off our bus at Kelvingrove Park, a gorgeous patch of green space near Glasgow University and, most importantly, home to the Kelvingrove Museum, an absolutely dreamy palace of art. I could have spent six years in this place, both for its collection and the building itself, which overflowed with that sense of serenity and richness found in all great museums and libraries. The main hall of the museum boasts a pipe organ, and a recital is held there every day at 1 pm. An absolutely spectacular place.

I tore myself away after a few hours at the Kelvingrove, and we walked straight through Glasgow University (a lovely campus) over to see the Mackintosh House, a townhouse that Charles Rennie Mackintosh and his wife transformed with interior design and original furniture while they lived there in the early twentieth century. Though the original structure no longer stands, the entire home has been re-assembled inside the Hunterian Museum, and it’s lovely. Oh, wait! There’s tons more to see in the Hunterian Museum, and we don’t have time for any of it. We’ll have to come back to Glasgow.

Next, we raced over to the Glasgow School of Art for a tour. The major building for the school was designed by Mackintosh and is considered very architecturally significant; unfortunately, it was severely damaged by fire in 2014, so we couldn’t see it. The tour was still pleasant. We learned about the iconic building by looking at a detailed model and got to see a gallery full of original Mackintosh furniture.

Back outside, it was spitting rain, and we still haven’t had any lunch and are getting weary. There was just one thing on our must-see list: the Museum of Piping. Thankfully, this was within walking distance from the art school. We got there around 4:45 pm but the darkness outside made it feel like midnight. The museum consisted of about ten display cases containing tons of bagpipes and artifacts, all in one small room. I’ve always had a keen interest in the pipes, both musically and historically, so this was a real treat for me. But very inside baseball… it’s hard to imagine enough public interest in this esoteric presentation to keep it open. The museum is just one part of the handsome National Piping Centre, a handsome building that seemed to have lots of other pipe-related things going on. So neat to experience this vibrant community here in Glasgow.

At this point, we were so eager to get back to our Airbnb we don’t have the patience to find a bus stop. We walked back home, changed our shoes, and enjoyed dinner at a swanky Indian place overlooking the bustling BBC Scottish Symphony Orchestra building. It’s difficult to leave Scotland! This one day in Glasgow has just reminded me how much there is we haven’t seen here. Tomorrow we fly to Dublin. Tonight we watch local news in our cozy Airbnb and try to figure out how to appropriately set the radiators in every room.

Part of a series.

We had a relaxed morning in Oban, with a rough idea of the day’s plans and a nice “continental” breakfast at our B&B. (Does “continental breakfast” here mean bagels and yogurt and tomatoes and meat? I was pleasantly surprised by the spread.) On the advice of the couple we met at dinner last night, we took a 10 am ferry to Craignure on the isle of Mull, a 45-minute trip.

I’d never been on a passenger ferry before. This one reminded me of a 1980s movie theater: kinda old and dirty, everything covered in multiple layers of paint. There were concession stands selling overpriced candy and snacks and lounge areas with vinyl-upholstered couches and even posters advertising ferry-related attractions. Since it was our first time in such a situation, Karen and I opted to sit on the open-air deck and look at the water along with all the other people for whom ferry travel was still interesting.

Mull was not what I expected. It was beautiful but pretty sleepy. It turns out the island is so big that you really need a car to get anywhere outside of Craignure, the town where our ferry landed. This is the kind of stuff you can figure out ahead of time if you have a way to look things up online! Ah well. We really wouldn’t have had time to drive across the island anyway. Next time we’ll plan better. We walked down the main road and into a thrift store, where I bought an old Anglican hymnal for £1. The lady in the store recommended a mountain hike just up the road, so we walked the other direction up the main road until we found a sign for Scallastle park. In contrast to yesterday’s popular nature destination, this park must have been one of Scotland’s least-visited. The path felt untouched. At one point we saw a sign explaining that a nature reclamation program was going on; invasive species of trees had been leveled to make way for indigenous conifers. It gave the park a spooky sort of graveyard feel. We took the “strenuous uphill option” which offered a wonderful view of the Sound of Mull.

We took the return ferry back in time for a 2 pm distillery tour at Oban Distillery. I wanted to do a distillery tour just to say I’d done it, and this one was very convenient—it’s right in the center of the town, just a few minutes walk from our B&B. The experience was about what I expected, but it was fun to see and smell all the steps of the whisky-making process. I helped Karen finish her free sample.

Then, back in the car for a few hours to Glasgow—our home base for the next day and a half—just in the nick of time to return our rental car before they closed at 6 pm. (We technically had the rental until noon the next day, but really did not want to be responsible for it a moment longer than we had to.) It felt so good to park that thing and walk away from it forever. We figured out the correct bus to take us near our new place, and went the rest of the way on foot. While we’re winding our way through Glasgow, I’m thinking wow, this place is nothing like Edinburgh. In fact, the glitz and drama of Glasgow at night makes Edinburgh feel like a legit medieval city. I can see why Glasgow supports a cool music scene, and it makes sense that there is an art school here. It almost doesn’t feel like the Scotland I’ve become used to. We have just one day to explore this place before our time in Scotland comes to an end. And there’s a lot to see!