Tuesday, November 20, 2007


Industrial. That is how the city struck me upon entering its boarders this morning as the sun shone through the fog and mist of the early day. The early morning cold reached into our limbs as we ascended from the bus and greeted us awake. We boarded another bus into the city. Houses, stores, and people unique passed my vision and rapped me in the life of the city. Teasing rays of sunlight peaked through tree branches as we continued, drawing me to further alertness and awareness. I tried to read, but could not keep my eyes upon the page or the ideas that flitted in and out of my attention span. There was much to see. The city neared or rather we neared it. An automated voice screeched out the announcement that we had arrived at the city center. We departed the bus and entered the city. Swarms of people. International. We traversed to Trinity college which brought one into times past and romanticized. The architecture harked back to what appeared Victorian or something old and grand at the least. We communed with our art guide and had coffee. The accent of Dubliners is lovely, different and harsh upon my ears after being long accustomed to the Northern accent. The National gallery awaited. She took us through rooms upon rooms filled with artists and their work that related to our art course. Such beauty that I sadly do not possess the capacity to fully appreciate! The security guards at the gallery talked incessantly, sweet but time consuming-I adore the accent. Eating, walking, talking. More crowds. The thrill of walking through a big city alone and independent absolutely exhilarated my soul. Shops upon shops-overwhelming. Unique streets lined with Christmas light adorn my memory. We walked where "Once" was filmed-wonderful. There were street musicians-I gave them a Euro. A park with geese and many people-I took a picture of Carrie despite my hatred of being "that person" who takes pictures like a tourist. More walking, window shopping-fresh flower venders, homeless people, lattes and crazy talk. Dinner in a pub, walking to the bus, languages galore-international city. The Dublin Post office-I am reminded of The Easter Rising-what history I have been allowed to see...wondrous city.

1 comment:

Gabrielle said...

when i hear "dubliners", i think james joyce... i've only read one story by him, though... "eveline". rather good. melancholy.