I think you get the picture; the Dublin rain and I have not been playing nice. You would think with the utter tragedy I experienced in my pinkie debaucle, that the Good Lord Above would see fit to exempt me from all other woes for at least a week. Well, apparently the Big Guy has other plans (or more important things to worry about???).
Round One of Anne versus RainStorms went a little something like this: Anne leaves apartment. Anne smiles because it is raining and she was brilliant enough to remember her umbrella. Anne pops the sucker open and turns the corner. Wind blows rain under umbrella and into Anne's face. Anne moves closer to the buildings to avoid the puddles and hide from the Wind. Wind doesn't like this. Wind picks it up a notch. Wind blows Anne into the building. Anne is WET.
Rain 1, Anne 0
Round Two: Anne leaves apartment for Mass dressed in boots, tights, dress and long pea coat (Anne looks very cute...and even did her hair!). Anne looks up and sees that it is starting to sprinkle. Anne runs back up 4 flights of stairs and grabs umbrella. Anne gets 30 steps away from her door, holding on tight (avoiding the buildings), and umbrella gets blown out backwards. Anne stands there stupified for a few seconds, then runs back 30 steps and up 4 flights of stairs and changes her entire outfit to jeans, walking shoes, zip-up jacket with hood. Anne thinks she is quite smart, holds hood over her head, walks about 1/2 a block....and the storm is over, clouds part, sun is shining and, I swear, a snotty little bird or 2 starts singing "na na nana na!"
Rain 2, Anne 0
Anne stays inside the rest of her stay in Dublin.
Okay, so the last statement isn't entirely true, but the weather has put a bit of a damper (pun intended) on the outdoor exploring. After Round 2 (which occurred last Sunday), I had already sloshed through the rain all the day before, wandering through the city centre searching for a fancy dress for Halloween, and then spent the better part of the afternoon in Ireland's National Gallery. I only made it through the bottom floor which houses entirely Irish and European art and has a huge portrait gallery of famous Irishmen & women who have made significant contributions to the cultural, social & political life of the country. While I definitely beefed up on my Irish history, I learned that "significant" contribution doesn't have to mean you are a revolutionary politician or an tireless worker for Irish social welfare. It more than likely instead means that you have a made a significant monetary contribution, were so pretty that lords from other countries fought to marry you, or that you are Bono. Or (my favorite) you were so vain that you had an oil portrait made of yourself and then donated it to the gallery.
But regardless, most of the art was fantastic and I will absolutely be back to explore their Millennium Wing, especially because it is home to works by some of my favorite impressionist artists. What's more, despite its loose definition of 'significant contribution,' the portrait gallery piqued my interest in Irish history and so I spent the next day, post-rain battle, at the Dublin Writers' Museum.
Now, I will be honest here and tell you that if you come to Dublin, unless you have 3-4 hours on your hands and are REEEEEEEEEEEEEALLY interested in writing, Irish authors, or looking at old books and writing memorabilia, this can be dropped off your list of things to do. But, seeing as I am pretty much a dork no matter how you spin it, I loved this place. I found it interesting that, being a haven for book-lovers, their 40-some-odd panels of history about each author was in maybe 18pt font and had definite potential to render you blind by the time you left. However, they also had some interesting hand-written notes by some of the authors, giving you insight as to their loyalties to each other, the validity of their "autobiographical" works, and their penchant for alchohol. Brendan Behan, in particular, was an entertaining name-dropper in his letters to his brother while in Hollywood. Apparently he hobnobbed with Groucho Marx, Frank Sinatra, Fred Astaire...and made some observations of the Hollywood crowd that, after living in L.A. for 7 years, I would have to say still hold true today :)
After all of my indoor activities, I was starting to go a bit nuts and so was beyond delighted to see a few rays of sunshine this weekend. It poured through the night, but today was gorgeous and actually warm. I used the great weather as a chance to inflict a little bit of self-torture and walked about 2 1/2 hours each way to Phoenix Park. This is one of the oldest parks in all of Europe (#5 I think?) and dwarfs NY's Central Park, no contest. They say it's even bigger than all of the parks in London put together. Well, I believe it, and have the blisters on my heels to prove it. Luckily, the walk was not in vain; the park is incredibly gorgeous, and well it should be since it is home to not only the Irish President but the U.S. Ambassador and Farmleigh (the official Irish State Guest House), which was my main destination.
My friend at work in Mountain View just actually moved to the States from Dublin, and he highly recommended that I visit Farmleigh on the first Sunday of the month, when it holds a farmers market. I absolutely LOVE the SF farmers market and usually trek there every Saturday, so Brian knew I would miss it while I was here. Well...no disrespect, but for all the Irish farmland, there were only about 5 stalls all together, one of which sold coffee and bottled water...the same brand that is sold next door to my apt about 2 1/2 minutes away, rather than hours. Not really what I expected, but I did make it home with some incredible pear & walnut soda bread which definitely won't last the week. And the sun shone every painful step of the way :)
They say the nice weather won't even last through the night, but I say bring it on. Me versus the rain, no problem...I'm calling a comeback!
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