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lupestripeIt turned out to be quite an alcoholic weekend... but not in the way that you think :P
Combating a security alert that closed Leeds-Bradford Airport on Friday evening, Wolfie and I eventually made it over to Dublin, albeit about 90 minutes later than planned. The whole airport had had to be evacuated after some clueless idiot had left something on an incoming Pakistan Airways flight from Islamabad. Cue "suspect package" and probably the most expensive packet of chippatis in the history of humanity. Still, we got to play the Family Guy pub quiz game at a pub by the airport and we saw some poor sod in his pyjamas because he had to be evacuated from the Travelodge adjacent to the airport itself. Still, it provided some excitement I guess...
Still, we managed to catch up with an Irishman called Fergal at the airport who had the palatable delight of going through airport security with us. Having said that, hats (and coats, and belts, and shoes) off to Leeds-Bradford Customs and Security - they were jolly, pleasant and typically Yorkshire.
On the flight, Fergal (whose name we only really found out in Dublin), Wolfie and I chatted about Ireland and what we all did for a living. Wolfie and I gave Fergal a business tip which he may take onboard. I don't know if he was drunk or just flustered. Wolfie and I got raped €5 for a "Breakfast" Bap on the Ryanair Flight and €7.80 for a "Bullseye Baggy" double G and warm T with no ice. They had little in the way of food on this flight. Quite clearly they should have gone on the Pakistan flight and got the chippatis.
So we arrived in Dublin and delightfully noticed that they have a yellow man in adjunct to the red and green one we have at traffic lights. I am hoping that all the Jelly Babies will find employment soon because times are tough and they need all the work they can get.
Ireland is very much like the UK, only slightly different. The road markings are the same, the signs are a mix of European and British, the language and the shops are almost identical yet they use the Euro. A currency that thanks to Gordon Brown's mismanagement means that it is almost on parity with the Sterling. This meant that everything in Ireland was ridiculously expensive for us (a sandwich €4.90, a pint of Guinness, €5 etc).
Ireland is full of a) Drunks, b) Homeless people, c) Friendly people, d) Rude people or e) a combination of the four. The number of homeless people in Dublin shocked me but their cheery drunkeness was quite warming to see. By the time we arrived in Dublin City Centre - at 1am - the night was winding down but we still fancied a Guinness, which we duly sampled. I also tried a Smithwick - which is the lager over there. Both were extremely pleasant and I must admit I have found a taste for Guinness - more on that later.
A taxi driver showed us the sights of Dublin, which at 3am are difficult to see. Suffice to say we went past the beautifully ornate Christ Church, the austere Trinity College, the famous Spire (built to commemorate the Millenium it is Dublin's tallest structure) and a bloke dressed as a Leperchaun. Think fursuit but green with ginger hair. A bit like Charles Kennedy after one too many Bells whiskies.
Our hotel overlooked a motorway junction but with a tram stop nearby - the delightfully named Red Cow - we were never far away from the centre. Plus trams let you look at all the derelict and rundown places that you often don't get in travel guides - unless the travel guide is one for Liverpool. So we travelled through a few rough looking estates, viewed an Irish business park and also went through the main hospital in Dublin until we got to Jervis, the site of a major shopping centre. There, we discovered that there was a crepery (yep, a place that serves crepes) there called Maple Moose and I wanted to go. The logo was a moose with his thumbs up and I fancied a giant crepe at that point. In the end, we settled with going through the bagelhole with a bagel. We had thought we would try a desert crepe but three bagels for the price of two put paid to that. Poor maple moose - he won't be so happy now...
After this, we opted to go to the Jameson's whiskey factory - Jameson's being one of the most famous and widely sold whiskeys in the world. I admit this was largely for Wolfie, who is a whiskey officinado, as I don't like whiskey. Or at least I didn't think so until I went to the museum.
The tour was only 45 minutes long and we got to taste the whiskey at the end. We were taken through a 10 minute video on the history of the factory, why it was set up and the popularity of whiskey in Ireland. It was also claimed that the Scots learned to make whiskey from Irish monks, which I am sure is something the Scots would argue against. The video was fascinating but it did start to sound a little like pro-Jameson's propaganda. After this, we were taken around the distillation process. We were told why Irish whiskey is triple filtered as opposed to single (in America) and double (in Scotland) and eight of the group were asked to nominate themselves for a tasting session at the end. Wolfie nominated himself and he had the opportunity of trying all three different types of whiskey and making a judgement on the best. He conceded that they chose poor whiskeys (JD for America, Johnny Walker for Scotland, Jameson's for Ireland) but he did accept that Jameson's was the best. He also got another free sample, lucky, erm, Master.
The building was the original distillery but production had moved down south so it had been converted into a museum. This meant that some of the original apparatus was still in situ whereas others were not. It still provided a fascinating insight into whiskey production though and I managed to bore the guide to death with my questions on thermodynamics. Still, she took a shine to me and we did have a nice chat at the end.
We also bought a couple of Jameson's souvenirs, as well as trying some Jameson's drinks at the special bar. We discovered that whiskey plus ginger ale is a delightful combination, particularly Jameson's due to its smooth taste. I admit I had not been a fan of whiskey before this tour because most Scottish ones (i.e. the ones I had tried) were too powerful for me, burning my weak oesophagus and stomach. However, Jameson's had that smoothiness which meant I could drink it neat (I had to have my free sample neat as opposed to mixed as I wanted to let the whiskey alone do the talking). Jameson's plus hot chocolate was nice, as was the Jameson's chocolate bar we ate.
Having got the taste for alcohol, we decided to head to a local tavern for a drink (and get so drunk we could not think). We chose the Porter House, by the banks of the River Liffey, next to Temple Bar. Temple Bar is the touristy area and we had been told to avoid it by the taxi driver we had shared a cab with the night before. However, Lupe like beer and ale festival and so we tried a few new stouts and also some local lagers as well. And a packet of Pringles. They were less local. Good old Proctor & Gamble. The music was a local skiffle band playing classic songs with an Irish lilt. Due to Ireland playing Bulgaria in a World Cup 2010 qualifier (football), the bar was pretty heaving and the atmosphere was good (even though some curly haired Spaniards started surrounding us, desperate for us to move).
After an hour or so, we left and saw a church. The church was beautiful, as was the ornate bridge that spanned the main road. It was next to some council offices and I decided to sow some seeds of barley on the grass outside. Hopefully they will grow into barley trees next year. Wolfie and I then headed to Camden Street, where we were told was where the Dubliners went out. We felt that we might as well do as the locals do rather than fall into the tourist trap of going to Irish themed bars and the like.
The trip to Ireland was also in celebration of our second anniversary together so we decided to splash out and treat ourselves to an expensive meal (made all the more expensive by Gordon Pigging Brown). We had to wait for 30 minutes as it was a Saturday night and busy so we happened upon a working men's club where we watched the back end of the Ireland v Bulgaria game. Upon entering, the beardy wierdy bartender said "These guys look lost" to no one in particular before I countered with our order of two pints of Guinness and an attempt to strike up a conversation with an old man. I found out the match was crap, Ireland were winning but were rubbish (it ended 1-1 by the way) and that Guinness was very very nice but did not agree with me in the fart department.
At 9pm we went to the restaurant where we had a T-bone steak, rare and swimming in blood. It was amongst the finest food I have ever tasted and definitely a fitting way to mark such an occasion. We spoke to a few more Irish people, which only emphasised how friendly they are, before we headed off to Whelan's and then The Bernard Shaw taverns. Both had been recommended by the taxi driver as good places to meet local people but the former was far too busy and the latter was playing god-awful dance music. Still, the surreal pictures on the wall (the tale of Bart and the various deaths of Bart) were quite amusing. We downed our seventh Guinnesss of the night before heading back to the hotel somewhat early. I fell asleep, and woke up, in the arms of Wolfie.
The copious amounts of Guinness was taking its toll on my digestive system as every fart smelled worse than a packet of dry roasted peanuts in a pigsty being shat on by a fat person. What was worse was the stomach pain and the fact that the force threatened seepage. This was to make for an uncomfortable day. If ever there should be a warning about drinking too much stout, this was it. Still, I still had the opportunity to be all submissive around a "Yield" sign, much to Wolfie's amusement. I am still suffering regarding the excessive stout drinkage.
In ironic celebration, we decided to take in the Guinness factory. This was a little out of town but we felt it was a must, considering we were in Dublin. We had intended to do it the day before but we would only have had two hours to do it had we done that. In the end, it took us five. We made our way down there and, like with the Jameson's factory the previous afternoon, we were thoroughly impressed with the experience.
The fact we were there in the 250th year of Guinness production was probably of benefit as there were many exhibits that celebrated this fact. Unlike the Jameson's factory, the Guinness one still produces the product on site and the museum is now housed in what was the old production centre. The museum itself is a seven floor monster but, unlike the Jameson's tour, there was no tour guide. We had to follow arrows that lead around the building.
The main exhibit was how Guinness is produced and this was fascinating. The factory used to brew ale but it was decided to focus solely on porter (i.e. stout) very early on. They had the four principle ingredients on site, meaning it was possible to smell the barley (and taste the richness of the roasted barley), look at the intricacies of the hop flower, observe a yeast culture from the year Guinness was first brewed and also observe a beautiful cascading waterfall of water that was crystal clear. It was a shame I had forgotten my Timotei. We also were taken on an interactive guided tour by Fergal, the chief brewer dude who was very enthusiastic about Guinness. He had the unenviable job of being the taster at the factory and it was clear he relished his job. We also got a free taste this point and he implored us to taste more.
Like with the Jameson's factory, we got a free pint of Guinness and this could be self-poured (no jokes please - on floors three and five) or poured by a trained member of staff in the Gravity Bar on the seventh floor. This bar offered a panoramic view of Dublin and from this, we not only saw the sea but also Croke Park, Trinity College, The Wellington Monument, St Patrick's Tower, The Spire, various churches and cathedrals, as well as the working brewery itself. It was a truly awe-inspiring view and one that was complemented by the freshest Guinness I had ever tasted. Expertly poured and smooth and creamy, it was definitely the best Guinness I had ever had (since starting drinking Guinness at 1am the previous morning).
The other floors contained various other exhibitions. The history of the factory was detailed, as was the places where Guinness is now sold (Iran being an interesting one considering it is a teetotal, Muslim country). There was also a place where you could leave a message and so I decided to write "Furries For Guinness, Lupestripe" which now adorns a wall at the factory.
The ideas behind their famous advertising campaigns including "Guinness Is Good For You" and "My Goodness, My Guinness" were also explained. Indeed, in terms of marketing, the Guinness people can teach the world a thing or two. The number of slogans and memorable adverts they have is remarkable, as well as the characters of John Gilroy, whose managerie of animals included the famous Guinness Toucans. A whole exhibit was dedicated to his talent and we saw many old TV adverts, as well as the modern ones. Many brought back very fond memories.
We decided to eschew the restaurant serving Guinness inspired delicacies for a trip to the bar. We wanted to try the two other Guinness brands - Guinness Extra Stout (4.2%) and Guinness Foreign Export (7.5%). The latter was sweeter as befits the higher alcohol content (which was done as alcohol evaporates with transportation) and it was eminently drinkable. The Extra Stout was far more bitter and, although not to my taste as much as the Foreign Export, was still a palatable beer. In this bar, we talked EF amongst other things and Wolfie had the opportunity to rest his paws, which were becoming blistered due to his new shoes.
A quick trip to the gift shop later allowed us the opportunity to have a chat with the nice South African serving. He took particularly interest in our Britishness. We bought some Guinness Caramel, to compare with the Jameson's one (it was nicer) and we bought some Guinness Marmalade. We also bought Patter a personalised bottle of beer. The latter two were confiscated by customs officials on our exit out of Ireland. Marmalade bombs and all that.
We were running out of time at this point but I still wanted to see Trinity College. We therefore got a taxi but someone had a Guinness fart in the middle of it, much to the amusement of the taxi driver (who was excellent company and a great laugh - despite him asking about the number of girls we had picked up).
Soon enough, we made it to Trinity College. Now a part of The University of Dublin, Trinity College was founded in 1592, making it the oldest university in Ireland. I wanted to find out how it faired against my college at Cambridge (Magdalene, founded 1428, re-founded 1542) and to see what the differences were. I guess Trinity College is a microcosm of Cambridge really - with different archetecual styles reflecting different stages of building in close proximity. Next to Georgian housing was 1970s concrete but the main courtyard reflected an austerity akin to Downing College in Cambridge (which admittedly was built in 1800). The large wooden entrance doors were similar to those at Cambridge colleges, as were the placing of the Porter's Lodge and the Important Notices boards. What surprised me though was the fact there were tennis courts and a full cricket pitch right in the middle of the grounds. It was quite clearly a walled-in community and one separate from the rest of Dublin. Like Cambridge colleges, the walls shield you from the city noise and it was a very tranquil place to be.
We had to depart for the bus at this point but, typically Irish, the bus stop that said "Direct Services To The Airport" turned out not to offer direct services to the airport. A friendly bus driver from another bus put us right. So we sank our tenth bags of Hunky Dory Salt and Vinegar potato chips and King's Cheese and Onion potato chips before heading back to the stress and disaster that is the management of Dublin Airport (security already noted, no food available at 8pm on a Sunday, a cheese and onion sandwich for €4.90 and the fact we had to get a hotdog on the flight (which was admittedly nice but expensive)).
My over-arching impression of Dublin is a friendly and vibrant city albeit one with rude people thrown in. It is excellent for a weekend out but if I was to go back to Ireland, I would probably head to Limerick or Cork in the south, perhaps staying in Dublin only one more night. Wolfie and I both agree that we covered most of the sites in Dublin within the two days we were there.
But then again, we still never went to Astro Park in Talla (www.astropark.ie - they made me say that...). Or Maple Moose so maybe we should go back. Just less Guinness this time - I can only really deal with one type of crepe at any one time...
Combating a security alert that closed Leeds-Bradford Airport on Friday evening, Wolfie and I eventually made it over to Dublin, albeit about 90 minutes later than planned. The whole airport had had to be evacuated after some clueless idiot had left something on an incoming Pakistan Airways flight from Islamabad. Cue "suspect package" and probably the most expensive packet of chippatis in the history of humanity. Still, we got to play the Family Guy pub quiz game at a pub by the airport and we saw some poor sod in his pyjamas because he had to be evacuated from the Travelodge adjacent to the airport itself. Still, it provided some excitement I guess...
Still, we managed to catch up with an Irishman called Fergal at the airport who had the palatable delight of going through airport security with us. Having said that, hats (and coats, and belts, and shoes) off to Leeds-Bradford Customs and Security - they were jolly, pleasant and typically Yorkshire.
On the flight, Fergal (whose name we only really found out in Dublin), Wolfie and I chatted about Ireland and what we all did for a living. Wolfie and I gave Fergal a business tip which he may take onboard. I don't know if he was drunk or just flustered. Wolfie and I got raped €5 for a "Breakfast" Bap on the Ryanair Flight and €7.80 for a "Bullseye Baggy" double G and warm T with no ice. They had little in the way of food on this flight. Quite clearly they should have gone on the Pakistan flight and got the chippatis.
So we arrived in Dublin and delightfully noticed that they have a yellow man in adjunct to the red and green one we have at traffic lights. I am hoping that all the Jelly Babies will find employment soon because times are tough and they need all the work they can get.
Ireland is very much like the UK, only slightly different. The road markings are the same, the signs are a mix of European and British, the language and the shops are almost identical yet they use the Euro. A currency that thanks to Gordon Brown's mismanagement means that it is almost on parity with the Sterling. This meant that everything in Ireland was ridiculously expensive for us (a sandwich €4.90, a pint of Guinness, €5 etc).
Ireland is full of a) Drunks, b) Homeless people, c) Friendly people, d) Rude people or e) a combination of the four. The number of homeless people in Dublin shocked me but their cheery drunkeness was quite warming to see. By the time we arrived in Dublin City Centre - at 1am - the night was winding down but we still fancied a Guinness, which we duly sampled. I also tried a Smithwick - which is the lager over there. Both were extremely pleasant and I must admit I have found a taste for Guinness - more on that later.
A taxi driver showed us the sights of Dublin, which at 3am are difficult to see. Suffice to say we went past the beautifully ornate Christ Church, the austere Trinity College, the famous Spire (built to commemorate the Millenium it is Dublin's tallest structure) and a bloke dressed as a Leperchaun. Think fursuit but green with ginger hair. A bit like Charles Kennedy after one too many Bells whiskies.
Our hotel overlooked a motorway junction but with a tram stop nearby - the delightfully named Red Cow - we were never far away from the centre. Plus trams let you look at all the derelict and rundown places that you often don't get in travel guides - unless the travel guide is one for Liverpool. So we travelled through a few rough looking estates, viewed an Irish business park and also went through the main hospital in Dublin until we got to Jervis, the site of a major shopping centre. There, we discovered that there was a crepery (yep, a place that serves crepes) there called Maple Moose and I wanted to go. The logo was a moose with his thumbs up and I fancied a giant crepe at that point. In the end, we settled with going through the bagelhole with a bagel. We had thought we would try a desert crepe but three bagels for the price of two put paid to that. Poor maple moose - he won't be so happy now...
After this, we opted to go to the Jameson's whiskey factory - Jameson's being one of the most famous and widely sold whiskeys in the world. I admit this was largely for Wolfie, who is a whiskey officinado, as I don't like whiskey. Or at least I didn't think so until I went to the museum.
The tour was only 45 minutes long and we got to taste the whiskey at the end. We were taken through a 10 minute video on the history of the factory, why it was set up and the popularity of whiskey in Ireland. It was also claimed that the Scots learned to make whiskey from Irish monks, which I am sure is something the Scots would argue against. The video was fascinating but it did start to sound a little like pro-Jameson's propaganda. After this, we were taken around the distillation process. We were told why Irish whiskey is triple filtered as opposed to single (in America) and double (in Scotland) and eight of the group were asked to nominate themselves for a tasting session at the end. Wolfie nominated himself and he had the opportunity of trying all three different types of whiskey and making a judgement on the best. He conceded that they chose poor whiskeys (JD for America, Johnny Walker for Scotland, Jameson's for Ireland) but he did accept that Jameson's was the best. He also got another free sample, lucky, erm, Master.
The building was the original distillery but production had moved down south so it had been converted into a museum. This meant that some of the original apparatus was still in situ whereas others were not. It still provided a fascinating insight into whiskey production though and I managed to bore the guide to death with my questions on thermodynamics. Still, she took a shine to me and we did have a nice chat at the end.
We also bought a couple of Jameson's souvenirs, as well as trying some Jameson's drinks at the special bar. We discovered that whiskey plus ginger ale is a delightful combination, particularly Jameson's due to its smooth taste. I admit I had not been a fan of whiskey before this tour because most Scottish ones (i.e. the ones I had tried) were too powerful for me, burning my weak oesophagus and stomach. However, Jameson's had that smoothiness which meant I could drink it neat (I had to have my free sample neat as opposed to mixed as I wanted to let the whiskey alone do the talking). Jameson's plus hot chocolate was nice, as was the Jameson's chocolate bar we ate.
Having got the taste for alcohol, we decided to head to a local tavern for a drink (and get so drunk we could not think). We chose the Porter House, by the banks of the River Liffey, next to Temple Bar. Temple Bar is the touristy area and we had been told to avoid it by the taxi driver we had shared a cab with the night before. However, Lupe like beer and ale festival and so we tried a few new stouts and also some local lagers as well. And a packet of Pringles. They were less local. Good old Proctor & Gamble. The music was a local skiffle band playing classic songs with an Irish lilt. Due to Ireland playing Bulgaria in a World Cup 2010 qualifier (football), the bar was pretty heaving and the atmosphere was good (even though some curly haired Spaniards started surrounding us, desperate for us to move).
After an hour or so, we left and saw a church. The church was beautiful, as was the ornate bridge that spanned the main road. It was next to some council offices and I decided to sow some seeds of barley on the grass outside. Hopefully they will grow into barley trees next year. Wolfie and I then headed to Camden Street, where we were told was where the Dubliners went out. We felt that we might as well do as the locals do rather than fall into the tourist trap of going to Irish themed bars and the like.
The trip to Ireland was also in celebration of our second anniversary together so we decided to splash out and treat ourselves to an expensive meal (made all the more expensive by Gordon Pigging Brown). We had to wait for 30 minutes as it was a Saturday night and busy so we happened upon a working men's club where we watched the back end of the Ireland v Bulgaria game. Upon entering, the beardy wierdy bartender said "These guys look lost" to no one in particular before I countered with our order of two pints of Guinness and an attempt to strike up a conversation with an old man. I found out the match was crap, Ireland were winning but were rubbish (it ended 1-1 by the way) and that Guinness was very very nice but did not agree with me in the fart department.
At 9pm we went to the restaurant where we had a T-bone steak, rare and swimming in blood. It was amongst the finest food I have ever tasted and definitely a fitting way to mark such an occasion. We spoke to a few more Irish people, which only emphasised how friendly they are, before we headed off to Whelan's and then The Bernard Shaw taverns. Both had been recommended by the taxi driver as good places to meet local people but the former was far too busy and the latter was playing god-awful dance music. Still, the surreal pictures on the wall (the tale of Bart and the various deaths of Bart) were quite amusing. We downed our seventh Guinnesss of the night before heading back to the hotel somewhat early. I fell asleep, and woke up, in the arms of Wolfie.
The copious amounts of Guinness was taking its toll on my digestive system as every fart smelled worse than a packet of dry roasted peanuts in a pigsty being shat on by a fat person. What was worse was the stomach pain and the fact that the force threatened seepage. This was to make for an uncomfortable day. If ever there should be a warning about drinking too much stout, this was it. Still, I still had the opportunity to be all submissive around a "Yield" sign, much to Wolfie's amusement. I am still suffering regarding the excessive stout drinkage.
In ironic celebration, we decided to take in the Guinness factory. This was a little out of town but we felt it was a must, considering we were in Dublin. We had intended to do it the day before but we would only have had two hours to do it had we done that. In the end, it took us five. We made our way down there and, like with the Jameson's factory the previous afternoon, we were thoroughly impressed with the experience.
The fact we were there in the 250th year of Guinness production was probably of benefit as there were many exhibits that celebrated this fact. Unlike the Jameson's factory, the Guinness one still produces the product on site and the museum is now housed in what was the old production centre. The museum itself is a seven floor monster but, unlike the Jameson's tour, there was no tour guide. We had to follow arrows that lead around the building.
The main exhibit was how Guinness is produced and this was fascinating. The factory used to brew ale but it was decided to focus solely on porter (i.e. stout) very early on. They had the four principle ingredients on site, meaning it was possible to smell the barley (and taste the richness of the roasted barley), look at the intricacies of the hop flower, observe a yeast culture from the year Guinness was first brewed and also observe a beautiful cascading waterfall of water that was crystal clear. It was a shame I had forgotten my Timotei. We also were taken on an interactive guided tour by Fergal, the chief brewer dude who was very enthusiastic about Guinness. He had the unenviable job of being the taster at the factory and it was clear he relished his job. We also got a free taste this point and he implored us to taste more.
Like with the Jameson's factory, we got a free pint of Guinness and this could be self-poured (no jokes please - on floors three and five) or poured by a trained member of staff in the Gravity Bar on the seventh floor. This bar offered a panoramic view of Dublin and from this, we not only saw the sea but also Croke Park, Trinity College, The Wellington Monument, St Patrick's Tower, The Spire, various churches and cathedrals, as well as the working brewery itself. It was a truly awe-inspiring view and one that was complemented by the freshest Guinness I had ever tasted. Expertly poured and smooth and creamy, it was definitely the best Guinness I had ever had (since starting drinking Guinness at 1am the previous morning).
The other floors contained various other exhibitions. The history of the factory was detailed, as was the places where Guinness is now sold (Iran being an interesting one considering it is a teetotal, Muslim country). There was also a place where you could leave a message and so I decided to write "Furries For Guinness, Lupestripe" which now adorns a wall at the factory.
The ideas behind their famous advertising campaigns including "Guinness Is Good For You" and "My Goodness, My Guinness" were also explained. Indeed, in terms of marketing, the Guinness people can teach the world a thing or two. The number of slogans and memorable adverts they have is remarkable, as well as the characters of John Gilroy, whose managerie of animals included the famous Guinness Toucans. A whole exhibit was dedicated to his talent and we saw many old TV adverts, as well as the modern ones. Many brought back very fond memories.
We decided to eschew the restaurant serving Guinness inspired delicacies for a trip to the bar. We wanted to try the two other Guinness brands - Guinness Extra Stout (4.2%) and Guinness Foreign Export (7.5%). The latter was sweeter as befits the higher alcohol content (which was done as alcohol evaporates with transportation) and it was eminently drinkable. The Extra Stout was far more bitter and, although not to my taste as much as the Foreign Export, was still a palatable beer. In this bar, we talked EF amongst other things and Wolfie had the opportunity to rest his paws, which were becoming blistered due to his new shoes.
A quick trip to the gift shop later allowed us the opportunity to have a chat with the nice South African serving. He took particularly interest in our Britishness. We bought some Guinness Caramel, to compare with the Jameson's one (it was nicer) and we bought some Guinness Marmalade. We also bought Patter a personalised bottle of beer. The latter two were confiscated by customs officials on our exit out of Ireland. Marmalade bombs and all that.
We were running out of time at this point but I still wanted to see Trinity College. We therefore got a taxi but someone had a Guinness fart in the middle of it, much to the amusement of the taxi driver (who was excellent company and a great laugh - despite him asking about the number of girls we had picked up).
Soon enough, we made it to Trinity College. Now a part of The University of Dublin, Trinity College was founded in 1592, making it the oldest university in Ireland. I wanted to find out how it faired against my college at Cambridge (Magdalene, founded 1428, re-founded 1542) and to see what the differences were. I guess Trinity College is a microcosm of Cambridge really - with different archetecual styles reflecting different stages of building in close proximity. Next to Georgian housing was 1970s concrete but the main courtyard reflected an austerity akin to Downing College in Cambridge (which admittedly was built in 1800). The large wooden entrance doors were similar to those at Cambridge colleges, as were the placing of the Porter's Lodge and the Important Notices boards. What surprised me though was the fact there were tennis courts and a full cricket pitch right in the middle of the grounds. It was quite clearly a walled-in community and one separate from the rest of Dublin. Like Cambridge colleges, the walls shield you from the city noise and it was a very tranquil place to be.
We had to depart for the bus at this point but, typically Irish, the bus stop that said "Direct Services To The Airport" turned out not to offer direct services to the airport. A friendly bus driver from another bus put us right. So we sank our tenth bags of Hunky Dory Salt and Vinegar potato chips and King's Cheese and Onion potato chips before heading back to the stress and disaster that is the management of Dublin Airport (security already noted, no food available at 8pm on a Sunday, a cheese and onion sandwich for €4.90 and the fact we had to get a hotdog on the flight (which was admittedly nice but expensive)).
My over-arching impression of Dublin is a friendly and vibrant city albeit one with rude people thrown in. It is excellent for a weekend out but if I was to go back to Ireland, I would probably head to Limerick or Cork in the south, perhaps staying in Dublin only one more night. Wolfie and I both agree that we covered most of the sites in Dublin within the two days we were there.
But then again, we still never went to Astro Park in Talla (www.astropark.ie - they made me say that...). Or Maple Moose so maybe we should go back. Just less Guinness this time - I can only really deal with one type of crepe at any one time...
