Friday May 23 - Leaving Ireland

9:00 am sitting in Dublin Airport with a two hour flight delay, I have just had my last Irish breakfast and now have time to catch up on my journal.   Steve and Janet got up early with me to see me off at the bus.  I did not sleep more than 4 hours last night; too busy thinking about all I have done and seen in 7 days and all I have to do in the coming weeks.  Reality encroaches and the illusion of forever exploring and seeing new sights comes to and end.  After Morocco I did not think there could be a more perfect vacation, but this has been it.

Last sunrise in Ireland 

Last night was no exception.  We arrived back in Churchtown about 12:30.

School girls in Churchtown

Magpie

Our host's lovely backyard

Home away from home in Churchtown 

After checking on Oggi - the pet tortoise in the garden has been known to tip over and strand himself on his back - he's 45 years old for goodness sake!

45 year old tortoise in residence 

We ate sandwiches made from leftovers of Helen's hearty breakfast - lovely eggs, salmon and brown bread; a bit of Janet's home made lentil soup; some of Steve's fried rice.  A complete meal.  Oggi, by the way, was out there enjoying himself in the rain - right side up.

Oggi enjoying the rain 

I packed and repacked my bag several times trying to figure out what I should leave since my new sweaters were so bulky.  Janet agreed to go with me back to the National Museum and we left at 3:00
in the rain.

The bus ride from Churchtown to Dublin where you can check your wifi

 We stopped first at St. Stephens green to see the swans; a whole family; mother with 9 fuzzy grey babies and papa in the back.  It felt like the Boston Commons - Make way for Ducklings.

St. Stephen's Green - Joyce's old haunt 

Swan family 

In the National Museum I found the Neolithic axe head from Knowth with the beautiful carvings as well as the phallic fertility pole and many stone beads.   I looked at the bog men again - bodies preserved in peat with skin, fingernails, and hair intact.  Most of them are dismembered or headless attesting to the brutal manner of their death wether by warfare, murder or religious sacrifice.

5000 year old stone jewelry

Neolithic ax head from Knowth

Amber beads

Ceremonial bowl

Axe head 

Bog man - skin preserved for 3000 years 

I looked through the hall of kings, the Viking legacy, where there was an amazing Norse skeleton of great height buried with his sword and dagger.  Then through medieval Ireland with all its saints and reliqueries.   Tucked in there all on its own was a Sheela-na-gig - in a dark corner with no label or light on it.  Just a tiny tag as if they were embarrassed and not wanting to advertise this female fertility figure often above a doorway on churches with the vulva - female parts - of the figure vividly exaggerated.  How threatening is the frank sexuality of the female body?

Swords of the Norse invaders

Jewel encrusted bible

Shoe from Middle Ages 

Scallop shell sign of religious pilgrims 

The Sheela-na-gig hidden in a corner with no label

From the museum we walked in the rain to Hodge & Figgus a big bookstore where I bought a book of Keats poetry and one of Irish wildflowers.  Janet proposed walking over the River Liffey again to Smithfield and Four Corners to the Cobblestone to hear music.

Ha'penny Bridge over the Liffey 

Row houses in Smithtown 

We stopped at M Hughes on the way over and the bartender told us, "We have music every night starting at nine," but it was only 5:30 so we walked over to the Cobblestone by way of the Jameson's brewery.  There we found three fiddlers playing at high speed in unison and practically no one in the place. We sat at the end of the bar, as their only audience and ordered two glasses of Tullamore Dew whiskey and cups of black tea as well.

A smooth Irish whiskey 

 There were two women who were quite good.  One kept a strong beat with her foot as they played, just as I am learning to do playing old timey music in the States.  There was a young man at the end who appeared to be learning the tune and following them.   He had the same sandy hair and round gentle face as Sam Gamgee (as played by Sean Austin) in the LOTR movies.

While we sat and drank and tapped our feet a crowd soon arrived.  By seven there was a small crowd.   Three more fiddlers, two Irish flutes, a bagpipe and a tin whistle joined with the others.  They would play one tune, slow down slightly and just launch into another.  When I asked names of tunes they just shrugged and said, "Maybe a hornpipe?" or something like that, but they sure knew how to play.  I thought I heard several jigs and reels as well.   At a certain point the two women launched into a series of waltzes - slower - which I thought I could learn to play.  I recorded many of the tunes on my i-Phone and they did not seem to mind.  Others were doing this too.

Photos of musicians at The Cobblestone

A young sight impaired woman arrived with her companion and a tin whistle in hand.   She was a friend of one of the fiddlers, and excitedly said hello and pulled out her whistle requesting to play a barn dance.   Occasionally she would get up and dance a jig and also played and sang her own version of Moon River.  I told the musicians that I played Old Timey fiddle and they said, "come back on Saturday - there's a session then."   Too bad - next time!     We were there for 3 hours and the bar was crowded when we left.   The sky was still light when we walked over to Oscars at 9 for dinner.   This is a nice modern place in the neighborhood where we had chowder and curry.  A musician sang American ballads in the back: Paul Simin, Beatles, Van Morrison.   It was still light when we headed for the tram and home at 10.   We stopped in at M. Hughes but there was no one listening to the lone fiddle and squeeze box in the back.  Too tired - we left.

Tram to Connolly Station and a last bus ride home to Churchtown - a little drunk on whiskey and completely exhausted.   Steve was up when we got in, but we all went to bed and agreed to meet at 6:30 to say good-bye at the bus.

A parting gift at the airport for my husband

Now sitting in the airport; the Irish news on in the distance; wondering whose going to win the elections to EU parliament - Independents, Labour, Sinn Fein, Fine Gael or Fine Faille or one of the many others.  I look back on my stay and realize how important it has been to my sense of identity.   In our family it was all the Irish weakness that came out - the moodiness, alcoholism, an often mean spirited toughness.  The Belgians had all the good qualities we inherited we're told - the good genes, the intelligence, the nurturance, the history and moral code of our ancestors; something to be proud of and identified with.  The family tree traced back to the 7th century for goodness sake.   All that was Irish seemed lost in the bitter musings of our mother about her own Irish mother with whom she did not get along.  There are know addresses or gravestones to look up in Limerick the city of her ancestors birth.
 It is only now in her extreme dotage that she speaks about Aggie Carmody - her grandmother, straight off the boat from County Kerry - who actually raised her on Classon Point in the Bronx.   There is much to admire: a tough sensible nature and sense of fun, the beautiful red hair of my uncle Jim, my sister Liz and now my grand-niece Evie.  But there is also the artistic legacy of Grandma Carmody Maurer's brothers who were sign painters and early ad-men in NYC.  As for me I am grateful for the gift of words - the bards legacy. For that I credit the Belgians and the Irish.  But I felt a deep, deep connection to the "old sod" as they say; feeling right at home on the now barren hill of Tara.   The humor and resilience of the people are something I recognize as mine and I will hold that forever.