Ireland

I've wanted to go to Ireland for a long time. It has always sounded like a magical place to me full of greenery, history, and cottages. My paternal grandmother was half Irish so I've also got some claim to Irish lineage so that's a bit fascinating as well. I've traveled a good deal but I've never been to a country which I claim any ancestors from. With a new job looming on May 1st I booked a last minute vacation to Ireland. In my new job I'll have to request vacation days so getting a trip in before starting work seemed like a good idea and the tickets were cheap.

We flew to New York's beautiful Laguardia airport  (LGA) for free with the use of Southwest points and a companion pass (basically a buy one get one pass that your earn). We then took a cab to JFK airport for our Ireland flight. On our flight to New York from Tennessee Joseph asked how much time we had to make it from LGA to JFK. I told him we had four hours and it would be a 20 minute taxi ride from one airport to another so I was planning to get a nice meal in Queens before being stuck in airports and airplanes for the foreseeable future. Joseph heckled me for thinking I had enough time to get a "nice meal in Queens" but in the end he agreed that we did have enough time so we took a taxi from LGA to the Cross Bay Diner. They don't make Greek diners in the south like they do in the north and it was a nice treat.

Cross Bay Diner

We made it to JFK for our international flight with two hours to spare and bellies full of diner goodness. Our flight was scheduled to depart JFK around 6pm and arrive in Dublin at 0500 the next morning. This accounts for six hours of lost time. We bunkered into two aisle seats hoping that the seat in our middle would not be taken but at the last minute a little Irish lady appeared who told us as I stood to get up, "don't stir yet, I still have to root through my bags". I ended up talking to the woman for a while. The flight was fairly uneventful and we enjoyed the Irish accents of the flight crew.

We arrived in Dublin at 415 in the morning and I had barely had any time to sleep on the plane, nor had Joseph. We got in a pretty horrendous fight while waiting for our rental car to be ready. The jist of the tiff was that Joseph thought I was being an egotistical control freak for wanting to be the primary driver of the car and I felt baited into a trap about the true fact that while I was not big headed about it, I had assumed I would drive the car. Our fight was broken up by the rental attendant finding us our car a little bit early. I wondered if it was because of the fight. 

It was still dark in Dublin. We were exhausted and had no where to go. We could not check into our airbnb for another eight hours. So I just started driving to Trinity College in downtown Dublin. We found a parking spot and walked around the city as the sun came up over the River Liffey. I tried to make friends with the giant seagulls. 

As the sun rose our tempers simmered down. We  then decided to find a more permanent spot to park the car and just walk around for the day to stretch our legs and shelve the car drama. We found a garage and as we readied for a day of walking Joseph suggested we take a car nap and I concurred. The seats in our tiny little car were able to recline remarkably flat and we slept soundly for about three hours in the car. We then got up, changed, and brushed our teeth. Joseph may have peed in a corner. The garage was a good choice. Having slept off our fight we set out with bright eyes to find some breakfast. I'm always amazed how basic needs (sleep, shelter) can be met with much less than we are accustomed to. 

The Queen of Tarts

We found a place called the Queen of Tarts. They had a remarkable selection of baked goods and a decent breakfast menu. Afterwards we window shopped along the streets and made our way to trinity college. 

New Trinity grads

I decided to pay for a walking tour of the college that would also gain me entrance into the library to see the ancient "Book Of Kells", an illustrated version of the bible that was began in 800AD and written and illustrated on calfskin. Joseph declined the tour for a mini nap on a green.

Through my tour I learned that the statue of the man pictured above is of one of the college president's who served until 1904. During the last year of his tenure women were permitted to attend Trinity though he fought vehemently against it. As a result, women students often take their picture with him at their graduation. I happened to be touring on graduation day and was able to see this bit of information in person.

More impressive than laying eyes on the 1,400 year old Book of Kells was the room above it simply called the Long Room. The long room is part of school's library and until the 1960's was the only building used to store books. I have never seen or smelled anything like it. 

The Long Room

After Trinity I made a trip to Haggis and Figgis bookstore to try and sell my dad's book but was told the book buyer was at lunch. We had planned to go to St. Stephens park so we did with the plan to return to the bookstore on the way back. We found St. Stephens bursting with people parked on a sunny patch of lawn so we joined them and fell asleep for another unplanned nap. About an hour later we made our way back to the bookstore where I was told what I have been told the world over. Bookstores purchase books through distributors, not private people, no matter how independent appearing the bookstore is. 

As we were now approaching check in time for our airbnb we found our way back to our miniature car parked inside of Christchurch Street Garage. We got in the car and made way to the airbnb. I had rented a GPS and it proved to be invaluable very early on in our trip.

Our lodgings in Dublin

We were checked in by a friendly young woman who worked for the owner of the condo as a checker-inner while the owner was at work. Our bedroom was gorgeous and facing the street. It reminded me a bit of a place I had stayed in New Orleans with unique architecture, a fireplace, and tall ceilings. We laid down for a bit before embarking on a walking mission to find dinner. We settled on a crepe place. I was confident there would be plenty of rustic Irish food in our future as the majority of our trip would take place in small towns. The crepes were delicious and the crepe makers were legit Frenchies. I was officially exhausted after dinner but Joseph wanted to experience the drinking of a Guinness in Dublin. So we agreed that he would hit a pub, and that I would hit the bed. Joseph was outfitted in a pair of blue jeans, a button down shirt and his Brooks running shoes. This will be important information later. 

I dozed off rapidly. Three hours later I was awakened by a phone call from a tipsy Joseph. He was trying to convince me to come to the pub and meet all his new friends. I had somewhat anticipated this phone call and I declined. The bed was treating me well. He acquiesced and I returned to my slumber. 

About another hour later I received another phone call from Joseph. This time he was in distress and said he had almost been "almost attacked". Given that he wasn't actually attacked and was able to call me I wasn't too disturbed so I just encouraged him to return home with a few choice words in between. Apparently my reaction was to lazier faire and lacking compassion because I received another phone call a few minutes later. Joseph now informed me that he had been the victim of a hate crime. A hate crime. My white, heterosexual male husband had been the victim of a hate crime in a predominantly white country. I wasn't buying it* and encouraged him to come home. He told me he was lost so I got out of the bed in my pajamas at 1 am and hit the streets of Dublin. As I prepared to walk out the door our airbnb host appeared in her pajamas asking if everything was o.k. I told her all was well and that I was just going out to find my lost husband. She asked if I needed assistance and I declined. I wasn't ready to enlist a search party much less with someone I had just met.

 While Joseph was unable to navigate himself home he was able to give me directions to his location at a four way intersection a few blocks from our airbnb. I found him unscathed but he was livid. Apparently one of his friends had turned on him and accused him of being gay. When the guy wouldn't drop his suspicion that Joseph was gay things got heated and Joseph left. Joseph complained about the racist, homophobic country we had set foot on as we approached home. I was neither amused nor taking him seriously. Once at home in bed he attempted to book a ticket home the next day to leave the homophobic hell hole he was trapped in. He assured me that he could know truly understand the plight of those who had hate crimes committed against them and people who have been harmed because they were asking for it based on the way they dressed as I choked back laughs. Once I realized he could not successfully navigate the internet and spend all our money on plane tickets. I went back to bed. If he wanted to leave the next day fine. I was here to stay. 

The next morning my hate crime victim woke up earlier than I would have given his state the night before. It was at this point I sought clarification on the night before. Apparently Joseph has spent the night in a blue collar pub. He met several people who would not stop buying him Guinesses that he could not stop drinking. Joseph had wondered the day prior if Irish people actually liked U2. His friends in the pub confirmed this suspicion and one friend had promised to meet (apparently a drunken promise is called an "Irish promise") with Justin the next day to provide Joseph with his favorite U2 video. See the note below. 

Joseph's friends had found his attire a little uppity and even commented that his shoes (Brooks running sneakers) were high dollar. How or why they perceived sneakers as fancy was beyond me, though there is some truth in it as Brooks sneakers cost in the neighborhood of $100. Joseph also mentioned that he had crossed his legs at some points and that perhaps my absence lead to the suspicions of one of his friend's thinking he was gay. And of course, everyone was drunk. Initially the other friends defended Joseph but eventually the accuser would not stop so Joseph just left. 

I left Joseph to get himself together and went on a short run. When I came back home I found our host had cooked him some hangover toast and they had a little chat. She told him that he had turned into an Irishman overnight with his antics complete with wife walking the streets to fish him out of a bar in the middle of the night. As payment for dragging me out of bed at one in the morning I teased Joseph throughout the day and throughout the trip about being a victim of a hate crime. And that's how we spent our first night in Ireland. 

The outfit Joseph was wearing the night of the crime

Another photo of the Long Room Library at Trinity College

While I don't believe Joseph was a hate crime victim I certainly believe that hate crimes exist and his friend turned foe was certainly exhibiting homophobic behavior which was an unfortunate first impression for a tipsy Joseph.