In Dublin town

We arrived in Dublin in the dark and the rain. As with our trip to Maine last year, my main expectation has been fulfilled -- I'm in Ireland. But I have this image in my mind that, like Maine, I hope will be exceeded by the reality. This side of the trip I can say the image could never live up to the reality.

We deplaned -- isn't that an awful word? -- and began what has to be the longest jetway walk I believe I have ever taken in an airport. When we reach the end of that, we will still have to walk and walk and walk, seemingly across the entire airport. The airport is featuring a photography exhibition called "200 faces of Ireland," which at first blush is no big shakes. Most of the faces you see look like the faces you'd see in any city you walked about in the U.S. No stereotypical flaming red-haired Irishmen, no craggy faced sheep herders like you'd see in the movies, just ordinary people.

Then I spied Pierce Brosnan's face in the center of one set of photos. A bit further on Gabriel Byrne's face appears. OK, I'm guessing that probably more of the faces in the exhibit are prominent, but you'd have to live there to know who. Still, the exhibit distracts from the long walk.

We eventually wind up in a big hall at the end of a snaking line of people waiting to go through immigration. It looks for all the world like the cruise terminals we've been through. While standing in line, some guy spies my Texas Tech hat and says something about being a long way from Lubbock, Texas. I reply, "Well, at least you know where Lubbock is," and his wife tells us they are both Tech grads. The short discussion that follows indicates they graduated in probably the same decade we did. Fill in your own cliche here.

Once we clear immigration -- we have stamps in our passports! -- we pick up our bags and head for the main area, where a man from the tour company spies the ID on our luggage and checks us in on his iPad. He shuttles us off to wait for the bus to take us to the hotel and says that should happen within the hour. It doesn't. 

When the time does arrive, quite a few people board the bus, but they won't all be going to the same hotel. In fact, we are the only ones on the bus going to our hotel. We arrive at our destination at about mid-morning, which is too early to obtain a room. Not long after our arrival, though, the tour director greets us, relieves us of our luggage, and tells us to make ourselves comfortable in the lobby. We're given a complimentary pot of tea and take a gander at the activity going on around us.

This place is posh. Way beyond the level of any hotel we tend to stay at. Lots of business folks wearing what appears to me to be expensive clothing sit at tables conducting meetings. I feel shabby in my everyday clothes. 

Eventually other people come in and sit in the same section of the lobby. The tour company gave us backpacks, so it's obvious they belong in our group. We don't introduce ourselves, but everyone falls into chitchat. Sharon and I have sat enough and decide we'll go walking around and check on our rooms again when we return.

We only walk around the block, but it becomes obvious that we're in an enchanting place. Old mixes easily with new. This is going to be a cool trip. 

By the time we return, our room is indeed ready. We call the elevator and immediately face a conundrum. After pushing the button for our floor, the elevator stays in place. We push the button again and again go nowhere. I notice a card reader on the wall near the buttons and wonder if we have to use our room key to make the thing operate. Voila. Way above our usual accommodations, and the room bears that out. 

We've enough time to situate ourselves and freshen up a bit before heading back down to meet the group and begin our adventure. We'll take a bus tour of the city and end up at Dublin Castle, for centuries the seat of Irish government and still being used for meetings and conferences, including a recent G8 conference.

Dublin Castle Gardens. This marks the approximate spot
of the "black pool" for which Dublin was named.

The name Dublin comes from two Gaelic words: "dubh" and "linn," which mean "black pool." Our guide tells us that a pool was formed by the confluence of two rivers, but the information from the Dublin Castle site states that the pool was formed by the river Poddle, which was diverted to fill the ditch around the castle. The river is now subterranean, and a garden marks the approximate spot of the original pool. 

While walking around and on the tour, we see a number of political signs urging people to vote on a proposition to eliminate the Seanad, or Senate, the upper house of Irish government. Proponents claim a savings of 20 million euros a year and fewer politicians will result from a "yes" vote. Given the situation in the U.S., I would vote for a proposition like that solely on the strength of having fewer politicians. The vote takes place Oct. 4. 

One of the features of the driving tour is a glimpse at the Georgian houses from the 1700s that once dominated the city. Many were torn down before anyone recognized the architectural and historical value of maintaining them. The buildings are rather nondescript, tall and narrow, butting up against each other so that the only way you know where one stops and another begins is by the seam.

But the doors are colorfully painted and feature quite a variety in their decoration. (This reminds me of my favorite shop name spied while on the tour: Knobs and Knockers.) The stories behind the doors are as colorful as the doors themselves. One has is that a couple of famous Irish writers lived next door to each other, and one was fond of coming home late from the pubs, inebriated and confused as to which was his door. After the more sober writer grew tired of the banging on his door, he painted his door green. The other responded by painting his red. 

A broader version of the story has it that wives painted the doors different colors to help their husbands find their way home after a night at the pub. Still another version has Queen Victoria ordering all the doors in the kingdom painted black after the death of one of the royals. Catholics supposedly painted their doors in bright colors as a protest.

The most famous door in Dublin. Stories abound as to its
origins. Google it and see what you can find.

The most prosaic, and probably surest, explanation is that the architectural style of the buildings was strictly regulated, kind of an ancient building code cum zoning regulation kind of policy, and the only part owners could control was the entrance. Bright door colors, fanlights, gratings and door hardware made the entrances uniquely the owners' own. 

Probably the most affecting part of the tour was a stop along the River Liffey, where a set of statues had been placed as a memorial to the victims of the great famine that began in 1845. The memorial depicts gaunt emigrants on their way to find hope and a better life somewhere else. Unfortunately many of them died aboard the ships they sail out of Dublin on, causing the ships to become known as "coffin boats." 

The famine devastated the Irish population, and they've still not recovered. Our guide said the population of the island before the famine was about 8 million, and the current population stands at just more than 6 million, or about the same population as the DFW metropolitan area. 

This is not the place to be political, but it would be worthwhile to read up on the Irish immigration to America. You might be surprised at the similarities to some of the arguments today.

We wrap up the day's activities with our trip to Dublin Castle. They -- I assume "they" are historians or archaeologists or some such -- have found evidence of a wooden and stone precursor dating back to the 12th century, The existing parts of the castle span multiple centuries and now houses a library, a couple of museums, conference areas and offices, among other things. If you're curious, check out the castle's website at http://www.dublincastle.ie/

Supper that night was left up to us. We were craving a hamburger and hiked over to that American staple, TGI Fridays, which was practically deserted. After a lovely quiet dinner, we returned to the hotel. By 8 p.m. Sharon had turned into a pumpkin, and I followed about 20 minutes later. Small wonder. Working in our time, we had been up for 30 or so hours, with only catnaps to carry us through. Sharon would not awaken until 6 the next morning. I had a bit more trouble sleeping but still felt ready in the morning for the next part of our adventure.