Éire go Brách - Part III

It was yet another late start, which if it keeps up I'm going to call it my normal start. I don't know if it was the unplanned nap, too many cups of tea too close to bed, or just shit luck, but I couldn't sleep. I tossed and turned until about sun up and finally dozed off for a few hours sleep, though I kept trying for a while more. By the time I got out of bed it was more lunch time than breakfast time. I didn't want to let the late start or lack of sleep totally derail the day so I made for the streets and headed for Glasnevin Cemetery about a 1.5 mile walk north of where I'm staying. It wasn't raining on the way up, but pretty much the moment I passed the cemetery gates it started to rain. Then it started to pour. The cemetery has a museum that I was going to hide in for a while, but it was closed for a private function. After seeing several older gentlemen with various medals and patches, I assumed it had to do with Veteran's Day, Remembrance Day, Armistice Day...whatever you call it in your part of the world. I wasn't familiar with the tradition, but most people were wearing poppies pinned to their lapels in observation of the day. Instead, I hid out in the adjoining cafe and sipped on some tea to see if the rain gave way.

After about an hour, the rain had only intensified and the day wasn't getting any longer so I zipped up the jacket, popped up the hood, and traipsed through the cemetery in the rather appropriate weather. The cemetery is supposed to be the final resting place for over 1 million Dubliners, including one of the country's greatest historical figures Michael Collins. Glasnevin is also the site of the large O'Connel round tower, which rests atop the crypt of Daniel O'Connell - another major figure in Ireland's past. The cemetery encompasses an area of 124 acres and has headstones and monuments from as far back as 200 years ago. It has a wide range of simple stones, elaborate monuments to religious figures, and a variety of crypts. There are guided tours offered to give you a brief history and a smattering of greatest hits, but I missed the earlier tours and the later tour was canceled because of the event they were hosting. At this point I was thoroughly soaked, a good time to discover the slightly-less-than-waterproofness of my jacket (not helped at all by me sweating inside it), I had stomped into several deep puddles, and figured I might was well cross the gate from the cemetery to the National Botanic Garden.

The Botanic Garden shares a border with the cemetery and there is a convenient gate to pass from one to another. A sign posted at the gate informed me that the garden was observing winter hours and would close at 4:15, giving me only about an hour to wander around. nowhere near enough time to visit all the greenhouses, walking paths, gardens, and who knows what else. I opted to head for the largest greenhouse, which ended up being orchids and tropical plants, with a large arboretum of tropical trees. The change from chilly downpour to steamy, earthy scents was an interesting juxtaposition. Across the small handful of greenhouses I went in, most housed arranged gardens or organized mini-forests that made for a pleasant walk and sensory experience, despite knowing virtually nothing about the plants I saw. I smelled flowers that were immediately familiar, intoxicatingly foreign, and one that smelled exactly like an old lady's perfume. Unfortunately, I was running out of time and I didn't want to have to walk all the way around the garden and cemetery to get back in and take another short stroll before it started getting dark.

After seeing a little more of the cemetery, though by no means all of it, the light was failing and the wind was picking up so I started back towards the part of town I call home while I'm here. Except for a small sandwich at the cemetery cafe, I hadn't really had much to eat, especially since I slept through breakfast, so I dropped into a nearby pub called The Brian Boru. The pub is named after the High Kind of Ireland who supposedly camped on the site of the pub on his way to the Battle of Clontarf in 1014. The pub is also mentioned in James Joyce's Ulysses. I had a pretty tasty steak sandwich with a mountain of giant chips. Seriously, they were enormous. The food was good, the pints were cold, and the atmosphere was old - old people mostly. It was one of those places that had an old guy asleep in the corner that woke up twice for a drink and a refill, an old man at the end of the bar that had obviously been there most of the day, and a table with a pair of slightly less old men that looked to be having a few pints after work. It had the feeling of a neighborhood institution.

After I filled up and ever slightly dried out, not really, I decided I was going to go to the movies and see Interstellar in "Ireland's only IMAX." I got there a little early for the last IMAX showing so I thought I would have to pick of the seats, but was sorely disappointed when I discovered that at least for IMAX they have assigned seating and it seems everyone else pre-books their tickets. Despite being stuck in the farthest corner, it wasn't bad. The seats were as comfortable as sitting in one place for 3 hours while still being mostly soaked can be and I enjoyed the movie. The long movie had me getting out a bit late and when I finally got back to my room I was fairly exhausted.

Today I'm just taking it easy. I don't have anything planned and I've yet to leave the hotel despite it being 2pm already. I woke up in time for breakfast, I'll probably step out for a late lunch in a bit, and maybe find myself a coffee shop or pub to set up camp for a while. It is a vacation after all. Plus I have blisters and I want to make sure my feet don't fall off from jungle rot.