Daybreak illuminated the capital gorgeously. We knew that Dubliners already gathered on the quays to sip coffee on its benches and gaze at the calm water.
While Lewis enjoyed a luxuriously-long shower, I got dressed and visited the Portuguese coffeeshop across the street. It was named Café Lisboa, referring to Lisbon: the capital of Portugal.
Seen below, the same owners operate Lisboa Pastelaria in another part of Dublin.
It's wildly popular, so I was grateful for our hotel's convenience proximity to this outpost.
The shop sells two types of food: Travesseiros de Sintra (puff pastry filled with sweetened yolks and almonds) and custard tarts named Pasteis de Nat. I got the custard tarts! Excellent!
The tiny shop has brightly-colored paint, immaculate tables, and the shiniest espresso machine. The level of service was superior! While a young man with a goatee used Tap-and-Go technology for my €9 payment, another emerged from a side room to create my espresso. In the USA, the second employee would probably remain lazily idle. In Dublin, both men sought to please me as their customer. My beverage was made with heirloom Ethiopian Yirgacheffe beans blended with Brazilian Fazenda beans. I ate the delicious pastry with groans of satisfaction; it made them grin. The cooked dough was perfectly flaky—like a croissant should be—and the custard was browned to a respectable hue without marring the rich-tasting creaminess underneath. A triumph that fit in the palm of my hand! I was handed my espresso, and we all said "Ciao!"
I told Lewis about the lovely cafe, and he was excited to try it, but he wanted to save his appetite for our noontime reservations. He used the room's toaster to make crumpets (€1 for six), which he layered pâté and bleu cheese on. (Everything was from M&S). We drank Spanish Blood Orange Juice, which was very refreshing. (The whole carton only cost €2.30!)
He used the microwave to soften the Irish cheese, named Cashel Blue. After 10 weeks of maturation, it had a tasty tanginess and creamy spreadable consistency. The longer it ages, the more it has a buttery-yellow color. The "farmhouse recipe" was made in 1984, and it began a trend for softer blues. It is named for The Rock of Cashel, a castle circa 1100 that hosted the legendary Saint Patrick.
Before we left the hotel, we paused to chat with the Front Desk staff. One of them was a young woman from Spain who gave us sightseeing recommendations. We implemented them, and I'll show you soon.
We ambled gently and smelled the crisp unpolluted air. It was a beautiful day in Dublin.
We got to the tram stop and validated our cards.
A tram arrived within one minute, and—after a clang of its bell—it whisked us silently to our destination. Lewis and I got seats facing a window and enjoyed the smooth ride... like a Bentley.
For both of us, it was such a relief to arrive without delays or reroutes. Last year, The NY Times wrote that increasing quantities of “signal & switch malfunctions”—during the height of commuting times—leave riders stranded everywhere from Brooklyn to the Bronx. Delays soared from 28,000 per month in 2012 to 70,000 per month! It makes constant aggravation for riders. Passengers must fearfully look online before their commutes to see if they will endure problems.
Americans are too tolerant of their under-performing industries and agencies… yet they obstinately claim to be “great”. Meanwhile, other places are truly great, but they are modest.
We exited the tram (and validated our cards) at Saint Stephen's Green, which is the largest city square in Europe.
Similar to England, all of the streets around the square are named for the park.
The delicate emergence of crocuses proclaimed that winter ended and spring arrived. We were thrilled to enjoy Ireland's typical weather that occurs in February!
We traversed its greenery and approached The Lord Mayor's Lounge, where we had reservations for teatime. (Dubliners are enthusiastic tea-drinkers, and every visit to an Irish home begins with a polite offer of tea). We chose a tearoom that is the pinnacle of Dublin's "tea culture": The Lord Mayor's Lounge.
It is inside the 5-star Shelbourne Hotel, which is a redbrick architectural masterpiece from 1824. That's correct: it served excellence for 199 years!
Wearing a top hat, a doorman welcomed us.
We entered the splendid lobby: sparkly chandeliers, a checkered floor that was polished to a sheen, a "wow worthy" floral display, and a crackling fire. We like hotels with revolving doors because they always keep noise and unpleasant air out. (Perhaps churches and temples should have them to prevent disruption from latecomers).
Each week, the hotel is renown for its awesome bouquets. We understand why! They blended beautifully with the hues of my new scarf.
Please enjoy my pretty panoramic video of the glistening lobby...
Firstly, we went downstairs to the Men's Lavatory to wash our hands. The elegantly spacious facility is adorned with caricatures of famous people from the 1910s. We noticed the accurately-diseased depiction of John D. Rockefeller: a psychopathically greedy robber-baron who lived in NYC and wrecked America's environment and business culture with petroleum and heartless monopolies.
The USA still suffers from his "diseased" impact. Other drawings depicted jazz composer George Gershwin,
...bandleader Paul Whiteman,
...colossal artist (and womanizer), Pablo Picasso,
...and Jewish financier, Otto Kahn, who detested America's antisemitism so he built its second-largest mansion (I was there) and helped create NYC's Metropolitan (Men's Only) Club.
At the entrance for the the Lord Mayor's Lounge, a polite hostess stood behind a gold podium and greeted us. She knew from our online reservations that we were celebrating our anniversary. In fact, everyone that we encountered in the lounge knew to wish us a Happy Anniversary. That type of coordination is praise-worthy; paying attention to "small details" is what makes an experience amazing. The staff fulfilled our request to have a table near the fireplace. Actually, they exceeded it because Lewis and I were given an entire table that accommodated four: it was centered in front of the fireplace, with two plush armchairs and a cushy loveseat.
Manhattan has tens-of-thousands of restaurants, but none of them have wood-burning fireplaces. (Cheapness and a lack of maintaining infrastructure caused them to be lost to history). So, Lewis and I must leave America's wealthiest city if we want to eat food alongside a cozy log fire. In the Lord Mayor's Lounge, the chopped wood popped and crackled pleasantly under a historic marble mantle.
Sunlight flooded the big room, which was decorated in bright shades of yellow and sage-green. In the center, a broad column upheld more spectacular flowers. Custom-made sofas were curved outward around it, so that four groups could have tea under the blossoms.
Two grandiose chandeliers (originals from the 1820s) and several sconces shimmered in the light. They were handmade of world-renown Waterford crystal, which has been fashioned in Ireland's Town of Waterford since 1783. They were gorgeous! We sat under one of them.
The wainscoting and window valances were handsome, and a Chinese-style curio (harkening to tea's origin from ancient China) doubled as a pantry and Server Station. Chinoiserie is often seen at high-end teahouses.
The soft carpeting featured a beige crisscross over a grassy green background. Every seat had plump pillows... except the leather-wrapped bench that fronted the fireplace. The whole scene resembled the drawing room of a grand manor house. (Drawing rooms got their names because their purpose was to draw people together). A hidden door in a mirrored corner was silently used by staff to carry food through.
We got comfortable in our luxuriously-spacious section and noticed how quickly the room filled with customers. We were all there to partake of the classy ritual of Afternoon Tea.
It seemed that there was a server for every two tables; that is a luxurious ratio! Servers were female, and two young men were food-runners. The women wore frocks made of vibrant green fabric with aprons made of Ireland's famous lace. Our youthful waitress was Irish, and she delighted in the details of the seasonal menu. Her name was Lauren, and she served us with courtesy and élan. She only worked there for a few months, but she was intelligently aware of every flavor and aroma, as well as the building's illustrious history.
During the Irish War of Independence, the hotel was occupied by British troops. (That tale reminded me of visiting Westover Plantation manor in Virginia, which was occupied by British redcoats during the American Revolution of Independence. To rouse the troops for an incoming attack, their captain rode his horse up and down the grand staircase, whacking his sword on the banister. Those slashes are still there, and I felt them).
Lewis and I were impressed that the price of each Afternoon Tea was €65 because prices soar higher (with less quality) in fancy American hotels. (Whenever Americans claim that Europe or first-world parts of Asia are more expensive, we know that they are either ignorant or lying). Furthering our joy, we were informed that we would receive an unlimited supply of tea, so we could try as many as we wanted. Ireland is the world's second-largest consumer of tea! Turkey is the first, and the United Kingdom is #3.
Aside from whiskey, Irish Breakfast Tea is the national drink of Ireland, so I was eager to enjoy some. It is made with a blend of black teas and always includes Assam (which has been harvested in India's Assam region since 1838).
Bashfully, Lauren admitted that the Shelbourne Blend of Irish Breakfast tea is her favorite, so we opted to start with it. As a secret recipe, it involves Assam Golden Melange: full-flavored, malty, rich color. Each tea necessitates varied water temperatures and steeping times, and Lauren was pleased that we were familiar with those caveats. Patience is a virtue.
We preferred to focus on the flavor of our tea, so we started with that (and glasses of ice water), and the food was kept in the kitchen. In the meantime, the hotel's signature porcelain was provided: colorfully decorated with birds and blooms over a jade-green background. Similar to Claridge's Hotel in London, the "jade color" harkened to China's pivotal role in tea drinking. Each place-setting had a plate and a pre-warmed teacup and saucer. I liked the low profile of the teacup. The cup sat on a shallow saucer, and it had a wide rim. That allows the tea to cool quicker, which is perfect for occasions when you consume multiple cups. Its slender handle was shaped so your forefinger fit through it. Note: it's a myth to extend your pinkie finger when sipping tea.
Lewis and I were also presented with perfectly-polished silver utensils, which glinted on the white tablecloth. Every detail was carefully considered by the staff, and we valued that.
At the precise moment, Lauren returned to our table, held a tea strainer over each teacup, and poured beautifully-colored liquid from the silver teapot. Brewing looseleaf tea necessitates using tea strainers (which straddle the cup), so leaves don't go into your drink.
Being a potent black tea, its flavor is often "softened" with cream. But, I prefer to taste things for the first time in their purest form, so my first "cuppa" lacked cream. Perfection!
As we savored Ireland's most-iconic drawing room, we peered through the tall windows overlooking St Stephen's Green. All around us, the room sparkled with light. In 2018, the interior was refurbished by a world-class designer named Guy Oliver of London, who also redid Claridge's Hotel in London (which we had tea at, last year). *To see our exceptional teatime at Claridge's, please use this link:
Signaling our server, we commenced our meal, which is one the hotel's cherished traditions: fragrant teapots and a series of finger-sandwiches and delicate sweets—all presented on fine china. Teatime in the afternoon is a ritual about sharing food and conversation. It is a determined pause from the hustle of life. "Tea for Two" is one of our favorite things!
A food-runner whooshed quietly through the secret doorway and placed a four-tier food stand on the credenza. A light-footed waitress carried it to our table. Here is Lewis' video of it...
You might assume that scones are the first thing to consume, but our experiences of teatime always began with savory sandwiches, then the scones, and then the sweet stuff. The progression of courses is the same in Ireland.
All of the food is masterfully made by Executive Chef Garry Hughes and his kitchen team and pastry chefs. Globe-trotting celebrities and dignitaries, such as Bruno Mars and Michelle Obama, travel to Dublin to enjoy his exquisite creations.
It's good that he excels at using the best techniques because Ireland's Department of Agriculture, Food & Marine is located around the corner. Ha ha!
Our trio of seasonal sandwiches, as seen here...
...included smoked salmon that was cured with Irish whiskey, accompanied with Lakeshore "Strong Irish" mustard on sturdy slices of Guinness bread. Mustard derives its name from ancient Latin words for "burning wine" because of the spicy flavor from crushed mustard seeds mixed with the juice of unfermented grapes. Founded in 1982, Lakeshore Fine Food Company is in an Irish village named Ballinderry, which is in Tipperary—a region famous for Ireland's artisan food makers. They create varieties of mustard with ancestral heritage in some of Ireland's greatest country houses (estates).
On the island, "brown bread" signifies a loaf (dark, rich, moist) that uses baking soda as a rising agent, instead of yeast, and includes molasses and Guinness, instead of flour and buttermilk. Guinness is Ireland's most-famous dark beer, and its stout has a roasted cacao flavor mixed with malty sweetness and hoppy bitterness that is perfect for the recipe.
From now on, whenever we taste Guinness bread, we'll be transported to the Emerald Isle.
The next sandwiches were made with pumpkin bread, topped with vine-ripened tomatoes and feta (sheep's milk) cheese. Lewis reveled in the classic "egg mayonnaise and watercress" on white bread. I liked the roast chicken with chive mayonnaise on a poppy seed roll.
With well-timed helpfulness, Lauren inquired if we wanted seconds of any sandwiches. That's correct: we could have an unlimited supply of sandwiches, and the kitchen would provide freshly-made ones. Wonderful! With a big smile, Lewis asked for more egg/mayo ones, and I requested the chicken/chive and the tomato/feta varieties. Flattered by our craving for the chef's food, Lauren also asked if we wanted to try a different pot of tea. We did.
For its Earl Grey tea, the Shelbourne smartly uses Darjeeling (the "champagne of teas") in the blend. Since 1856, it is harvested in the Darjeeling district of India. In 2004, it became India's first food to receive Protected Geographical Indication status from the World Trade Organization, and it earned it from the European Union in 2011. Below is India's official logo for it.
Legally, tea can only be called Darjeeling if it meet criteria for geography and quality, and imitators are phrohibited from saying "Darjeeling Style/Type/Method" (which is flagrantly done in America). From our travels, we recognize that logo and seek products with it.
*To see our colorful trip to India, please use this link:
Each sip was perfect! It remained perfect as as I poured a smidgen of cream (not milk) into the brew. I passed the creamer to Lewis, and he agreed that Earl Grey always tastes good with cream. (We never add sugar to our tea or coffee). I think our waitress was pleased that we were not the typical Americans who like over-sugared drinks that prevent you from actually tasting the quality of the main ingredients.
It is the perfect beverage to have whilst eating scones, so we began that segment of our menu. Dutifully, Lauren partnered with a colleague to replace our dirty dishes and silverware with new ones. She also refilled our water goblets.
Tucked into a warmed piece of folded linen, four oven-fresh buttermilk scones awaited us. Lewis and I love a well-made scone! (Within Ireland and the United Kingdom, a scone is pronounced like "gone", instead of "stone"). If made correctly, they are pulled apart to add clotted cream and preserves on the insides, while you hold the outsides.
Alas, in the vastness of the USA, scones are made improperly: the wrong shape and the wrong consistency. They resemble American biscuits, and they are dense, heavy, and chewy. Consequently, they break apart into crumbs. We don't understand why the recipe gets mutilated in America?
A properly-made scone is circular, with rich-tasting dough that is light and holds together so you can spread jam on it. It is made with less butter and much less sugar than American versions. Unlike sugar-crazed Americans, the Irish and British eaters don't want scones flavored with pumpkin spice or maple or passionfruit. (They save that for pastries). They like plain scones or ones flavored with raisins or berries. Unlike the ones made in America, they are never glazed or coated with sugar crystals. Flavor is added to Irish and British scones via clotted cream, lemon curd, and fruit preserves.
Seen below, Lewis shows-off his rings whilst he applies clotted cream to his warm handmade scone.
You can tell that it's a perfectly-made clotted cream because it forms sturdy peaks as it is spread. We always put clotted cream before the preserves, because it holds the preserves in place.
Lauren admitted that the Lemon Drizzle mini-loaves were her favorite item. She often asks the cooks to save her some to take home. Resembling a "pound cake", it was moist with citrus taste. Enraptured with the experience of having true scones, we were delighted when she told us that we were entitled to have as many as we wanted. An unlimited supply! Like children at Christmas, we happily asked for two more plain ones. The kitchen team obliged.
As we gazed into the fireplace, each bite was wonderful! Seen below, I wore my Donegal tweed vest—made of fabric woven in Ireland's County Donegal—and a wool necktie that I got at the Massimo Dutti flagship store in Spain.
Made by Pastry Chef Gillian Flynn, our picture-perfect desserts included mango eclairs, topped with a coconut icing and pieces of meringue.
After that, we ate rhubarb and rose-scented chocolate as a Pot de Crème, which is a 17th-century custard. In its center was a surprise filling of rose jelly, surrounded by chocolate mousse.
I really liked that one, but our favorite was the Marble Cake: almond frangipane (love that), salted caramel mousse, praline cream, and caramel sauce.
The finale was an apple and yogurt trifle (a type of dessert), layered with maqui berry jelly, rosemary yogurt, cinnamon apple compote, Crème Anglaise, and sable crumbles. Maqui berries grow in South America as a powerhouse of antioxidants.
As our final "cuppas", I asked for a refill of Earl Grey Darjeeling, and Lewis tried something new: Maqui Mandra, which is a fruity green rooibos tea, blended with dried blossoms. It had a mesmerizing aroma: freshness and zing.
As the fire emitted soothing warmth and the sun shone through the windows, we asked Lauren if it was possible to get a pair of scones "to-go". She smiled grandly as we explained that we intended to eat them on our train journey tomorrow morning. Lauren cleared our table, and an Eastern European woman delivered the scones, ensconced in a colorful Lord Mayor's Lounge box (with handles).
That woman provided cheery chatter about Dublin's beauty. She recently relocated to Ireland and loves her job; the commute via bicycle is refreshing, the weather is nicer than stereotypes say, the local food is tasty, and the Life/Work Balance is better than her homeland (which she didn't reveal). When paying our bill, we were prepared to give an additional gratuity, but the waitress politely prevented it. It was her pleasure to do her job correctly; she didn't want us to think that she did it for extra money. (Outside of America, hospitality workers are paid a livable wage and get Universal Healthcare, so they can survive without two jobs or trawling for tips). Next year, the Shelbourne celebrates two centuries of existence! 200 years of marvelousness is compelling. Lewis and I look forward to returning.
As we departed, each employee paused from their tasks to wish us a Happy Anniversary. The hostess did, too. We gave heartfelt smiles to them.
*[For comparison, during the week after we returned home, Lewis' friend took him for Afternoon Tea at the restaurant in Bergdorf Goodman. It cost $45 each, but every additional pot of tea cost extra, and they do not offer unlimited food. Each extra item had a separate cost. Hearing about the grander experience in Dublin, his friend said, "Nothing is free in America... despite it claiming to be Land of the Free." So true].
East of the hotel, the road becomes Baggot Street, which is named for Robert Bagod who owned a manor there in the 1200s.
Soaking up the sunshine, we ambled leisurely through Saint Stephen's Park.
Many picnickers and sunbathers were there. A lesbian couple canoodled under a blossoming tree. Dog-walkers led terriers over the paths, as other dogs fetched sticks on the emerald-colored lawn. Swans amused themselves in the pond. Birds in Ireland include the woodcock, northern lapwing, a common swift, European robin, Eurasian blackcap, Bohemian waxwing, and northern pintail duck.
Taking advantage of the proximity to Dublin's main museums, we visited two of them. First, we entered the National Museum of Archeology, which curated 4,000 years of Irish history. Admission to the museum is free to everyone.
Located on Kildare Street, it was constructed in 1890. The museum was initially founded in 1785 as the Royal Irish Academy.
The Metropolitan Museum in NYC is one of America's largest. Yet, it is uncaringly unfinished. Piles of marble blocks remain undone at the main entrance (where they were dumped in the 1902). That is indicative of NYC's uncaring attitude.
Unlike our problematic experiences in Berlin, there was no mandatory Bag Check or mandatory self-storage for personal belongings/coats/bags. None of the four museums that we visited in Dublin instituted those inconveniences. If they had lockers, the instructions were plainly written and didn't require coins (unlike Berlin).
The museum focuses on antiquities from the Stone Age to the Edwardian era.
Foremost, we learned about the awesome Celtic culture, and that was the most impressive! We were awed. Seen below is an illustration of an ancient Celtic community: organized, defendable, clean, and productive.
With ancient origins, the Celtic language continues in six modern ones: Irish, Scottish, Manx (on the Isle of Manse), Welsh, Cornish, and Breton (in the Brittany region of France). During the Bronze Age, they inhabited central Europe. During the Iron Age, tribes migrated to the British Isles and became an isolated mainstay.
In 517 BC, ancient Greeks studied the Celts with admiration and made the first record of the name “Celts”. At that time, Celtic tribes resided in Marseille, France, and along the Danube River amongst Germanic clans. They spread to Spain, Switzerland, and Italy, and they inhabited land next to the ancient Etruscans of Tuscany. In 283 BC, they settled in Bulgaria, Greece, and Egypt. In his desire for gold mines, the Roman emperor, Julius Caesar chronicled his Gallic Wars against them in 58 BC. In the 3rd-century, Celts invaded the Balkan territories of Serbia and Ukraine. Eventually, the spread of the Roman Empire throughout Europe and the British Isles “Romanized” Celtic culture.
Similar to the Native American tribes of North America, the Celts did not use writing to record their culture, so much of it is lost. They etched their histories into megalith stones and wooden pillars (similar to Native American totem poles).
Thus, Celtic history was only preserved from things written about them by ancient Greeks and Romans, as well as early-Christian monks. Infamously known for its intolerance of other religions, the rise of Roman Catholic Christianity obliterated Celtic culture in continental Europe. Safe on the British Isles, Celts lived for a millennium in 3,000 hill-forts and rural communities.
The settlements are gone, but unmovable grave markers remain.
You can also find monolith "markers", aligned in patterns.
Ireland is famous for enormous Celtic burial mounds that are UNESCO World Heritage Sites.
The Celtic calendar had a five-year cycle that revolved around solar and lunar events. Temple site remain that mystify mankind but capture solar and lunar events with precision that defies the technology available to Celts.
Celtic artwork focuses on an interlace of loops, braids, and knots within geometric patterns.
The triquetra (trefoil) is a three-cornered, triangular image of interlaced arcs that are the same size.
From the medieval era, hand-bells survive as distinctly Irish church accessories that were rung on “saint days”.
Other artifacts of metalwork included miniature chariots...
... and brooches (closures) for cloaks are still replicated by modern artisans.
Unlike many other ancient cultures, Celtic women were universally included in society: they were warriors, military commanders, poets, priestesses, healers, artisans, and druids. As independent members of society, it was normal for them to do things without needing consent from men.
Unlike women who suffered subservience through centuries of European/American history, they voiced concerns at political meetings, acted as ambassadors, worked as judges, voted for decisions, drafted civic planning, and owned businesses. Celtic marriages were partnership of equality (other ancient cultures made women into the “property” of their husbands… and that stupidly continued for 1,000+ years until the 1960s). Lewis and I were already aware of the Warrior-Queen Boudicca who retaliated against the Romans in England (who founded London) and burned down that city.
Druids were the high-ranking group of Celts: religious leaders, legal authorities, lore-keepers, medics, and political advisors. Men and women were druids. Unlike priests of other ancient civilizations, Celts didn’t become druids to amass power; they educated and indoctrinated themselves for the betterment of their society. Overall, it seems that modern civilizations should learn a lot from old Celtic ideals.
Most cultures around the world had polytheistic religions. The Celts revered goddesses and gods equally. We learned about some prominent ones. Morrigan is the shapeshifting Goddess of War and Protection. Etain is the Goddess of Beauty, Vitality, Healing and the Migration of Souls. Importantly, she teaches that you can retain your “inner light” when other aspects of life might fade. She also blesses people with regrowth. Water, dawn, butterflies, swans, and apples blossoms are sacred to her. Brigid is the red-haired Goddess of Spring who is celebrated on February 1 to mark the end of winter. Nowadays, that holiday is named the Festival of Lights. Airmid is the Goddess of Healing & Herbs.
Whereas Catholic mercenaries in Spain and France initiated Witch Hunts to slaughter “wise women”, Celtic nations benefited from preventive medicine prescribed by female healers. Relentlessly in this modern era, preventive medicine and herbal remedies are ridiculed by corporate-owned pharmaceuticals and “for-profit” medical industries. Yet, they remain purer and more effective than pharmaceutical drugs (which are petroleum-based). The notion of “wise women” as healers reminded us of a TV series titled “Good Witch”. It involved an intuitive woman who operated a hotel and gifted "magical" healing remedies to unsuspecting customers who needed them.
Ireland was blessed with acceptance of homosexuality and bisexuality, and that continued from ancient times until the medieval era. Gaelic literati, chieftains, kings, and the echelons of Celtic society blended harmoniously with gay folks. Many men preferred to have sex with each other. Male warriors belonged to groups of “intimate friends” who engaged freely in same-sex intimacy. (Aristotle was a fan!)
The horned god of fertility is named Cernunnos, and his “stag antlers” are indicative of virility. (Persisting in this modern era, some cultures still use pulverized horns as a sexual aphrodisiac).
Emblematic of gay tolerance, Cernunnos is the icon of “instinctual sensuality”. Celts acknowledged that humans enjoy intimacy and are sometimes attracted to the same gender… just as people crave various foods. Celts didn’t divide people into categories. Instead, they remained grateful for erotic feelings as a sign of genuine affection. They believed that souls desired wholeness, friendship, connections, and community.
In stark contrast, Christianity demonized same-sex attraction… and Christians renamed Cernunnos as Satan! Continuing today, Satan is depicted with horns… even though he was supposedly a “fallen angel” from heaven. From the time that Catholicism dominated Ireland, centuries passed until homosexuality was “forgiven” and then decriminalized in 1993. Despite Ireland’s strong Catholic traits, citizens who identify as Celts retain their profound appreciation of natural beauty and physicality—inclusive of same-sex partners.
A skylit room was filled with prehistoric Celtic jewelry: a treasury of Ireland's gold from 2200 BC to 500 BC. Goldwork began in Europe in the fifth millennium BC, and it was a thriving occupation in Ireland by the third millennium. Those Neolithic craftspeople understood every step—from ore identification to finishing processes. Hammered from gold sheets, dozens of breast-pieces were unearthed from Ireland's marshes and bogs.
Originally, they were tied with strands of leather or cloth to be hung from the neck, and they were worn by men to signify importance. They were used for ceremonies, inaugurations, and the forming of loving partnerships. They were similar to crowns but they formed "halos" below the face. Throughout mankind, having shiny accessories near your head was a sign of enlightenment and power.
In the modern era, the desire for similar accessories occurs in gay culture.
Resembling cabinet handles, gold pieces were actually dress fasteners that acted like giant cuff-links.
As a graduate of the USA's prestigious Fashion Institute of Technology, Lewis was fascinated with ancient Celtic torcs: bands of metal that almost connected but ended with bulbous finials. They were intended as unisex necklaces and wristbands.
They remain popular in modern culture, with trendily edgy styles.
After that, we saw ancient pottery that Celts brought from faraway places like Greece and the island-nation of Cyprus.
Vikings appeared in Ireland in 795 AD, and they had a profound impact.
Their main settlement in Dublin is now occupied by Dublin Castle. Excavations from the city's expansion unearthed the most important Viking relics found anywhere in Europe. They were more than raiders; they settled and transformed Ireland's economy and political culture. Burial mounds contained finely-made swords, weights and scales of merchants, and hammers of craftsmen. Brooches with ancient Scandinavian styles are preserved, as were arm-rings that were decorated with amber and silver. There were dozens of bronze stick-pins. Wooden bowls, cups, and barrels were preserved in the marshes.
Here are more images of the collections that we viewed.
Farther into the museum, we encountered an exhibit that represented Ireland's medieval history. As expected, that era coincided with Catholic Christianity's intolerance for other religions and its violent conversion of foreign populations. Therefore, most of the artifacts were gold-covered bibles, religious chalices, liturgical decorations, and vestments. We saw a shrine preserved from the 11th century, and a Charter Horn that was used by an ancient king of Leinster. Made in the 1500s, a book was held together with a whalebone. There was also an inscribed oak beam from a late-16th-century home. It showed how homeowners decorated their interiors.
From there, we examined the beautiful interior of the National Library of Ireland.
Considering that it's a public facility, it is odd that it is closed on the weekend. Odder is that you can still enter the library... but only to use the lavatories. Nonetheless, we managed to see the impressive domed ceiling—soaring high above the Reading Room.
Stylistically, that building "mirrors" the National Museum, but they are separated by Leinster House, which was initially the ducal palace built by the Dukes of Leinster (and Earls of Kildare) in 1745. Now, it houses Ireland's parliament.
Next, we went the Molesworth Gallery, which fills a townhouse on Molesworth Street. They are named for the 3rd Viscount Molesworth. The gallery contains contemporary artwork by Irish artists. Admission is free. But it is also closed on Sunday. Nonetheless, the street was pretty.
Lewis posed for photos beside the colorfully-painted doorways of Georgian-era homes. They are iconic of Dublin. By 1700, Dublin was the second-largest city in the British Empire, and its townhouses reflected that prestige. Many historic homes retain their shoe-scrapers, so mud or debris isn't brought indoors. They provided the perfect poses for him to show his new lug-boots.
Unlike NYC, the homes and buildings in Dublin lacked bars on their windows and doorways. We liked that. Despite their bloated/overpaid police force, overtaxed New Yorkers must install bars over their homes to fend off unstopped criminals... creating self-made cages to live in. Unchanged, it has been that way for 70 years. Throughout NYC's five boroughs, it looks appallingly like this...
Furthermore, it was nice to see that Dublin's buildings weren't greedily overloaded with billboards, as many are in NYC...
A few blocks away on Clare Street, we entered the modern-styled entrance to the National Gallery of Ireland.
Admission is free to everyone. Founded in 1854, it is a gorgeous place. We viewed thousands of sketches, prints, paintings, portraits, drawings, miniatures, photographs, and sculptures. The collections were supplemented with glassware and examples of delicate metalwork. Highlights from the 1600s included works by Juan Carreno de Miranda, Johannes Vermeer, Rembrandt van Rijn, and Jan Peeters. Masterpieces from the 1800s were created by Edgar Degas, Pablo Picasso, Claude Monet, and Julia Margaret Carmeron.
The floors had pretty decorations, too.
I admired a portrait of Prince Alessandro Farnese, which was made by Sofonisba Anguissola (born in 1532 and she was praised by Michelangelo in Florence).
Seen below, Lewis sat on a bench and studied The Visit of the Queen of Sheba to King Solomon, painted by Lavinia Fontana (born in 1552 as one of the best Renaissance artists). Clearly, it was important to show how much finely-made lace was worn by the queen's ladies-in-waiting. We were thankful that Ireland recently invested in its conservation.
We chose an exit that faced Merrion Square, which is an 11.7-acre park designed in 1752 by the Viscount FitzWilliam.
On the corner, we saw the former townhouse of the flamboyantly gay satirist, Oscar Wilde.
Living near Daniel O'Connell's townhouse, Wilde lived a wild life. Born as a Dubliner in 1854 to Sir William and Jane Wilde, he enjoyed a plush upbringing. He won a royal scholarship to attend Dublin's Trinity College, and he was an outstanding pupil. Going to England, he enrolled at Oxford's Magdalen College, and he gathered a coterie of effeminate classmates. Being affluent and decadent, they entertained boys lavishly. In 1882, he spent a year moving across the USA. He relocated to Paris and then London. He married a London heiress, and they lived extravagantly with their two sons. In 1886, he began an amorous homosexual affair with Robert Ross, and their favorite hangout was Harrod's. Alas, in 1895, a nobleman accused him of "illegal sodomy", and the ensuing trial proved it. It also unveiled the gay "underground" of Victorian-era Britain. Wilde was jailed until 1897, and its harshness was his undoing. There is a statue in the park of him.
We walked west on Nassau Street. It was named for the noble House of Orange-Nassau in the Netherlands because its ruler became King William III of Britain and Ireland.
We heard the elegant "clang-clang" of a passing tram, and it prompted us to take advantage of the capital's transit system.
At the Dawson tram stop, we validated our cards and hopped aboard a tram to our hotel. Members of the Garda were on it, too. Things seemed orderly, and people were smiley.
After a quick nap, we changed clothes and accepted a "local tip" from our Front Desk team to have dinner at a Japanese restaurant named Yamamori. There are two locations.
First, we wanted to explore a cocktail bar named Bar 1661 that was one street away from our hotel. It is one of Dublin's best cocktail bars. Opened in 2019, it advertises itself as "Staunchly Irish and Fiercely Independent". Last year, it won "Bar of the Year". We like going where the locals go! To get there, we exited our hotel and walked along Little Green Street (previously named Petticoat Lane). The bar occupies a corner property at the intersection of Green Street and Little Britain Street, and it is open seven days per week. With a curved wall of windows, it faces a public square named Saint Michan's Park, which existed unchanged since the 1090s! That is the epitome of "land preservation".
Built on the foundation of a Norse-Viking chapel, St Michan's Church stood on that hallowed ground since 1095. The current one was created in 1686.
Its sanctified interior has a pipe organ from 1724 that Handel used to compose Messiah! That's amazing!
Under the sacred building, its crypt is open for visitors.
We preferred to visit the bar.
It was already packed with people. That is a good indication! Its outdoor seating had heat lamps. We nudged through the doorway, and a smiley hostess asked if we had a reservation. We confessed that we came directly from our hotel and desired a couple of pre-dinner cocktails. She seemed delighted that we were staying at a local hotel because it implied that we could return a few more times. (We did).
She was also delighted that we were Americans. Speaking in a confidential tone, she said, "I can give you boys a couple of stools at the bar, but we need them within twenty minutes". Lewis assured her that we could consume our cocktails within that timeframe. Sharing a conspiratorial wink, she led us to the bar. We joined the sanguine camaraderie of happy Dubliners drinking!
A charming bartender named Brendan welcomed us. He discussed the origin of the place and its cornucopia of cocktail recipes. We peered at a green leather-bound menu, and each drink referenced a momentous occasion in Irish history. As with all menus in Ireland, it had a footnote system to indicate any allergens.
I ordered a drink named the Libertarian: Dunville's Peated Irish Whiskey, sour cherry syrup, dark chocolate, aromatized wine, bitters, and preserved lemon. Lovely. "Peated" means that the whiskey matured in a peated (fired) cask for distinctive smokiness. Lewis chose one named Seven Seeds: pineapple rum, passionfruit, and white chocolate. Heavenly!
Fully entertaining and impressive, Brendan maneuvered his cocktail shakers, stirrers, jiggers, and stemware with the dexterity of a gymnast. Both arms shook cocktail shakers fiercely in a rhythm that had the vivacity of mambo. (The overhead music thumped in a variety of retro-club beats). With sleight-of-hand, he chiseled each cube of ice to fit within the specified glass. That was awesome.
He worked in unison with three other youthful bartenders, and every libation was a creative work of art! They all had short-sleeved shirts and tattooed arms, and they admired Lewis' water-themed tattoo on his leg because it involves Celtic artistry.
With time to spare, we indulged in a second-round of drinks. Lewis picked Jago's Whip: Jameson Black Barrel Irish Whiskey, oat liqueur, Madeira, red bean, and condensed milk. I had Family Business: Teeling single malt, calvados, dark rum, jujube & elderberry juice, butter, and walnut bitters. Wonderful on the palate!
Sitting at the crowded bar, we overheard Irish expressions and learned slang words. Craic (pronounced as "crack") means gossip or fun. If someone asks “Is there any craic?”, it means “Is there any fun?”. If somebody says “He’s no craic”, it means that he was no fun. The word “Sound” means “Cool”, so if you’re cool about a situation, you’re sound. Idiot is pronounced as “eejit”. The Toilet is referred to as “Jacks”. If someone is “thick”, they’re stupid. “Gaff” is a slang word for someone’s “house”. “Giving out” is not a sexual term; it means “complaining”.
Brendan seemed saddened to see us leave so soon, but we promised to return. Via contactless payment, the total was €54.50.
We walked to Yamamori's North City location, and a reservation wasn't needed. Facing the River Liffey, the restaurant is big with plenty of seating, yet its interior walls create cozy "rooms". It was full of various ethnicities who collectively enjoyed the culture of another nation.
The Japanese hostess ushered us to a "table for two" that gave a view of the sushi counter.
After walking 5.3 miles since teatime, we were famished. We started with another pair of tasty drinks! I sipped a Nikka Sour: Nikka Days Japanese Whiskey, plum sake, lemon juice, orange juice, lemongrass syrup, egg white, and plum bitters. Delicious! Lewis chose Passionate Lover: rum, apricot brandy, passionfruit purée, lemon juice, sugar syrup, and egg white.
Our waitress was from Japan, and she was honored that Lewis pronounced each menu-item perfectly. We were assured that all of the fish was freshly-caught that day. As a fan of sashimi, I got five pieces of bluefin tuna, priced at €19.
After that, my €6 sushi was served with black zakkoku rice: a high-protein/fiber alternative to white rice. I loved it!
Lewis munched on grilled scallops served with kimchee butter, baby pak choi, and sugarsnap peas (€14). We shared a €12.15 serving of grilled tiger prawns flavored with yuzu, presented on a salad of spinach, daikon, and cucumber. We relished the sizzling sounds of our Salt Stone wagyu beef, which cooked itself on the hot stone. Here is Lewis' video of it (turn the sound on)...
It was accompanied by black garlic butter, and it was priced at €24.10. As an oyster lover, I slurped three freshly-shucked Galway Bay oysters: €3.90 each.
Lewis was enticed to try five pieces of squid tempura for €12.10. For €11.65, we shared four pieces of soft-shell crab. From the wok chef, we ordered €20.65 Yaki Udon: lightly-curried udon noodles, Irish chicken, prawns, an egg, and seasonal veggies served with pickled ginger. The total cost of our meal was €156.75. A quick visit to the lavatory (of stylish and immaculate condition) was the perfect conclusion.
Our waitress proffered a dessert menu, and the Sticky Toffee Pudding was tempting (a mainstay on the British Isles). Instead, we walked around the corner to Cloud Nine, which is a 24-hour gelato shop.
We like the fact that gelato is creamier than ice cream, and the flavors are more pronounced while relying less on sugar. The pretty pink shop was bustling with customers.
We each invested €5.50 for two scoops. Lewis chose Salted Caramel and Tiramisu. I selected Dulce de Leche and Pistachio.
Every spoonful was superb!
Customers clustered on the sidewalk, whilst others migrated to the steps of Ha'penny Bridge and chatted under its lamplight.
We like how Europeans use their bridges for congregating, socializing, and people-watching... instead of merely for traffic. Holding our gelato, we strolled along the river and admired the glistening reflections of the illuminated buildings on the water. It reminded us of doing the same thing in Florence, during the same month, last year.
Arriving back at our hotel room, we refreshed ourselves and went to sleep. We needed to wake up early in the morning for our train trip.
Please join us in the next segment as we travel by using this link:
Ciao for now!
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