I like Dublin, but more than 4 days can be too much in a way. So getting out to Howth the 20th almost felt like a relief, to get away from the noise and just breath.
Getting the bus in Dublin can only be described as a peculiar experience, since noone seems to get to the busstop on time..
Anyway, the drive out to Howth was beautiful, the sun was shining and it seemed that half of Dublin were heading in the same direction as us.
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| View from the pier. |
Howth seems like the total opposite of Dublin, and it felt so nice to breath in the salty, fresh sea-air. To feel the emptiness of thought...undescribable.
Those of you who read my travel-description last summer might recall me mentioning Howth in my story about Bachelor's Walk (
chapter 6) and as all the other places of historical interest, this was a place that meant something to me. When I closed my eyes, I imagined how the place looked like almost 100 years ago, when the gunrunners managed to smuggle their load to Dublin without being caught by the roving eyes of the English.
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| One of several lighthouses in the area |
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| Such a view |
When we got to Howth, we followed the pier out to one of the lighthouses on the peninsula. I sadly didn't feel that well, so I didn't walk around the cliffs. Oh, I wish I did, but that will be something to do next time. So after some wandering about, me an my sister found (surprise surprise) a pub. Mum and dad had went for a walk out to the cliffs to see some birds and James would hopefully turn up...
So a pint and a newspaper, reading anything but the news...how many strange names the Irish give their horses...
* Clouded Thoughts
*Theboyschoice
*Nurse Ryan
*Gormanstown Cuckoo
*The Recovery
*The Talking Turtle
....and the list is endless...
Wonder what their owners were thinking of...
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| A cider so much better than the norwegian crap---Bulmers yummy! |
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| Busy busy...even early in the afternoon |
Abbey Tavern...what a place. They had a fireplace, which made me drowsy and when James, his friend, mum and dad came, I tasted Beamish for the first time...oh what a pint. I don't know which one I prefer; Beamish or Guinness...
Anyway, thanks James for introducing me to the wonderful taste of Beamish.
The evening got spent in the hostel, playing and singing. Great last evening in Dublin
The next morning, after packing all my stuff, I went walking along the quay in the sunshine. To take in the city like this felt liberating and I got a chance to see the monument over the famine-victims.
I'll let the pictures tell the story, because I'm lost for words:
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| Liffey in the morning |
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| Treasurehunting...finding cool sculptures |
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| James Connolly; a leader of the people |
This is one of my favourites scultures. It's a good representation of the man James Connolly was; a man who fought for the workers and for the Irish people. A strong and determinant man who dared to dream, believe and try to achieve---
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| A harp in the distance |
The Famine-memorial was amazing...or maybe I'm choosing the wrong word to describe it. Rather...memorable? It portrays the undescribably event the famine was, in a VERY good way. While I was standing there, looking at the different figures, my mind made up their individual stories---Maybe I will make a story about them?
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| Does he have any hope in our society...or is it lost like in 1847? |
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| You can literally feel his pain and agony |
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| Famine vs wealth, past vs present? |
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| A silent cry for help |
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| All is lost...even hope |
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| An urban harp |
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| A frozen movement |
So the last day in Dublin turned out really nice and memorable...well, it started raining, we misread the bustable to Waterford and the bus was late...but I will let you, my reader enjoy some more small moments from Dublin in the next chapter which will only contain pictures.
And then....tada: TRAMORE
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