There is so much to report.

Sunday.

When Sunday came around I was ready to get back out into the Dublin world. There is so much to do and see. I had just realized the day before that I had been riding past the Garden of Remembrance on the bus for oh say the past three weeks. Jeri, you were the first one to mention it to me, and I knew it was close the Dublin Writer’s Museum. Well it is. It’s right across the street. So, on Sunday I got up bopped over to Dominique’s (she was maybe still asleep) and told her that I was going on into town. I waited for the opportune moment to get off of the bus--- kind of suspenseful I didn’t know what really came before the garden, but I knew I would know once I was there. Kind of an issue when you have to punch the button BEFORE the stop whizzes by. Fortunately I didn’t mind standing for a few blocks and awkwardly bending my knees to see out of the driver’s windshield. Being tall is such a hazard on buses. So is standing, for that matter. I did manage to get off at the correct stop and successfully ran across the street to the Garden. I feel bad saying that it wasn’t really that special. I feel really bad saying that. It has sentimental value, but there are so many BEAUTIFUL parks and gardens that is kind of a rip off calling this a garden. It’s a statue, stairs, and cross-shaped reflecting pool. The pool was cool—it had a mosaic bottom with broken spears and shields in some places. So it gets a low grade on the garden scale, but high marks for good intentions. Particularly as an Aggie I am very attuned to monuments that are in honor of fallen soldiers--- which this is. It stands for anyone that died while fighting for Ireland’s independence, which they technically have not had for all that long a time. I’m glad I have been there.

After snapping a few photos I darted across the street to the Writer’s Museum. It’s just in this house and it was REALLY hot and stuffy, but the stuff they had in there was really cool. Everyone gets this hunk of plastic that looks like the old buzzers from Papacita’s hooked up with a remote control but it likes to pretend it is a telephone. There were busts and portraits of all of Ireland’s great writers, letters, first editions of books, scripts, typewriters, playbills, death masks and lots of other random stuff that I will probably forget in a few months that I ever saw. It was cool, but I wish I could have taken some pictures because it will be next to impossible to really remember what I saw. There were some authors I didn’t know anything about and others like Sheridan and Farquar that I have given reports on. Everything was in a case or in a frame hanging on the wall, except for Handel’s chair. It’s supposedly the one he sat in the first time he directed The Messiah. What else, what else was cool. There was a sketch of Oscar Wilde that I liked. That’s enough.

Just as I was finishing up there Dominique called to say that she and Eliza were headed to the National Museum. So I jumped on a bus (great timing) and headed that way. I got there before them, but we had an hour before it opened. I walked to meet them at St. Stephen’s Green--- there were some other EUSA girls there—part of our original airport crowd. They were on their way to Howth. Eliza went to H&M to Dom and I grabbed some food (cheese croissant, raisin roll, and coke) and then we hung out at H&M for a while. We talked to the guy in the fitting room. His name was Darragh. He’s Irish. Eventually we got to the museum. It’s filled with a lot of really old stuff. Like REALLY old. Celtic symbols carved in stones and really thin metal necklaces twisted in very tight spirals and so difficult to make no one knows how they did it. While I was there I was struck by one of my brilliant thoughts. Clearly, the artisans that made these amazing beautiful things were geniuses, but because we don’t know their names they are given no credit. Still I was staring at the BC work of da vincis and einsteins. Interesting isn’t it? And from an academic standpoint if someone were to discover proof of just ONE artist’s name or a symbol that seemed to represent a name or brand it would be huge news. Maybe it already is and has been. I don’t know.

Next.

Then we went in search of chips? I don’t remember. We did not go to the park. OH we went to dinner? My day is blurring with the day before. No. We went in search of a café and ended up at a bookstore. They didn’t have any scones out and wouldn’t for thirty minutes, so we browsed among the tomes. They were having a three for one sale so I bought a book on Paris, London, and some little fluffy novel. I read about the great pirate queen of Ireland for a little bit, too (which was lucky because the next day she came up in Mr. Hickey’s play).

*there are people across the courtyard making far too much noise and they are getting on my nerves. I like not having air conditioning, but this whole open window thing really causes noises to travel further than I would like.

When the scones were done I ate one. It was tasty. Dominique had two. Eliza got a free sample of the hot chocolate. Which is really not a drink, but melted chocolate.

*Upon further research there is a giant mob of people failing to go inside the building across the way. I don’t know what the deal is, but it’s almost midnight and I’m not pleased. I tried to taking a picture to show y’all, but I think I just looked like a creeper. Oh well. It’s really annoying, though.

So the bookstore. We finished up there and I was ready to be done for the day. Dom and I made our way back. Eliza stayed in town to shop. That night Dom, Andre and I went to see Transformers---very sexist and somewhat racist, but enjoyable if you’re just looking for a bit of excitement and action.

*Their volume levels are increasing, believe it or not. Even Oh brother where art thou is not powerful enough to drown it out.

On Monday, also known as yesterday, The Mill had it’s first day of The Kiss. It’s a short one person play and Tom Hickey, a well known Irish actor, is the show. It was very interesting and I enjoyed it very much. I could probably right a book about that day, but I’ll try to keep it short. Highlights: I ran the box office some that day--- it was okay mostly. I am getting better at it. After the show I when Mr. Hickey was leaving and I told him that I enjoyed the show he remembered my name (that’s cool). There was a man in the audience that is working with a theatre in Fort Worth on a show about the Irish in Texas. He gave me a lot of information about it. I sold programs. I sat in the back. Mr. Hickey was trained in realist acting---- stanislovsky and all that. The play was very short and fragmented. It was little monologues divided and somewhat connected by music in between. Mr. Hickey was playing a priest. It’s a very Irish piece so it was a nice follow up to the Irishactoramericanplay experience. Irsishplayirishactorinireland. Very nice.

*I want them to go to bed.

Yesterday I spent some time reading in the park after my bus ride—It was very pleasant.

This weekend I am going to Cork--- that’s where the Blarney Stone is. I think I’ll just blow it a kiss…. Goodnight.

* reaches for earplugs.