Easter Ireland

I was in Ireland for the birth of my niece, V.W. Harvey on April 10th.  Phil, Jon, Joel and I crashed for three nights at my good friend Meghan's apartment in the heart of Dublin at Temple Bar.  We spent two days outside the city, hiking in Howth on the eastern coast, and south of Dublin, in the Wicklow mountains.

It was Good Friday evening when we first arrived at Meghan's place, and we soon discovered there was no alcohol on sale anywhere in the city (apparently, this is the one day when the Irish actually don't drink).  This was probably all for the best because we had a long hike ahead of us on Saturday.

Ireland in early April is probably the greenest place on Earth.  The hiking in Wicklow was arrestingly beautiful.  I was a little motion sick as we rolled through the country side, passing sheep pastures and old country cottages, but off the bus we treated ourselves to large servings of lamb stew (evidently some of the lamb that I passed on the drive) and we had satisfied stomachs for our late afternoon hike.

That night, back from the hike, we decided to make up for a sober Friday evening and hit up the bar.  One of Meghan's friends from the Tisch Dublin program documents a band in Ireland, so we got free admittance to watch them play at a loud, three-storied, pub club.  That's when I got a call from my girlfriend Anna saying she noticed that Lizzy Cocks had posted on my facebook wall congratulating me for being an uncle.  So, whatever old people say, facebook has its merits.  We rushed out of the club to grab a round of whiskey in true Irish fashion in honor of the niece, and I headed back to Meg's apartment to call my brother and congratulate him (for all his hard work in bringing Virginia into the world).

The next morning I went to Easter mass at St. John's, a Catholic church outside of Temple Bar.  We slept a little late, so we were on time for the eleven o'clock service.  To be totally frank, it was one of the most boring Easter services I've been to.  The only really entertaining part was listening to an old lady with huge, red-rimmed glasses do the first two readings in the thickest Irish accents I had heard all weekend:

"An' den dey touk Jaisus an' dey naayled 'im up on uh tree."

We had an American couple sitting in front of us.  I could tell by the husband's huge Pittsburg Steelers bomber jacket.  He got particularly doused by the holy water as the father passed down the isle and the wife leaned into him, smiling:

"Does it burn?"

Not exactly the most formal of services to be expected on Easter Sunday, but I still felt pious nonetheless.

We spent the rest of the day touring the Jameson whiskey factory north of the River Liffey.  Joel, Meghan, and I "volunteered" to be post-tour whiskey testers.  At the factory bar, we sampled Jameson and compared it with JD and Johnny Walker scotch.  I had a good buzz for the rest of the Easter afternoon.

After a brief tour of Trinity College on Monday morning, we flew back to London with a solid Dublin experience under our belts.  But most importantly, I was grateful to hear that Virginia made it into the world safe and sound.  I can't wait to meet her!