ireland

Bitterly cold weather, wonderfully warm people

November 2002

The flight from London Luton airport into Dublin, Ireland via low–fare Ryanair was short but interesting. No assigned seats, no boarding by rows or section. Just open the lobby door and bum–rush the airplane.

But that wasn’t nearly as jarring as this repeated admonishment once on board:

“Please do not fasten your seatbelt until the aircraft doors have closed.”

Say WHAT?

Okay, fine, whatever. Just get us there in one piece!

Which they did.

The airport bus dropped us on O’Connell Street, where we boarded the green–and–cream Dublin Bus for a rapid city tour — hop on, hop off," and rattle about like mad in between. A lot of major European cities, including London and Paris, run these services. They’re a good bargain for the traveler.

Two things you will need on any visit to Ireland. One is your sense of humor, because the Irish can be delightfully funny. The other may be a gas mask, especially in public places, because Dublin has some of the fiercest cigarette smokers I’ve ever seen!

Among the sights we missed were the statues of “the tart with the cart” and “the floozie in the Jacuzzi.” The former is a statue on Grafton Street of a woman reputed to be a fishmonger by day, while “mongering” more intimate services by night. The latter is a representation of James Joyce’s “Anna Livia.” Dubliners also refer to her as “Anna Rexia,” among other things.

We will be among the last people ever to use the Irish pound, also known here as the punt. It, along with most of he other national currencies in Western Europe, is being phased out in favor of the new euro.

I understand the logic behind the unification of European monetary systems and all that, but it still seems a shame somehow here in Irleand. You have to admire any country that puts musical instruments and writers on its money, and that will be lost now.

We soon were treated to other doses of Irish humor, like the Coke billboard you see here. There were other examples, none more endearing than the Dublin cabbie who told us about the cellular telephone his daughter gave him for Christmas. He never turns it on. Ask him why and he says, “I'm afraid it might ring!”

Didn’t get a chance to visit the Dublin Writers Museum (too bad; I could use the inspiration), but more than made up for it with a visit one of the Meccas of beer lovers everywhere, the Guinness brewery.

Well, not the actual brewery; visitors aren never allowed in there. It’s an old fermentation plant at St. James Gate that’s been converted into a multimedia visitor center.

The river Liffey runs through Dublin, but Guinness makes a point of NOT using river water for their famous brew. Not a good sign. Aside from their renowned liquid refreshment, the Guinness Storehouse, as the visitor center is called, also brews up a mean Guinness-flavored beef stew in the Gravity Bar, which offers a high, sweeping view of Dublin, which would can actually see on their website.

They also tell you that this is actually the top attraction for international visitors in all of Ieland. I’m still not sure if that’s a good or a bad thing.

Alas, we only had one day in Dublin. From there, it was onto the old and gently rocking orange train for the three–hour run through gree, rolling hills and past flocks of sheep to Waterford, and our real reason for coming to Ireland — the Waterford crystal factory.

Waterford is a quiet, easygoing riverport, a working town with quaint city center, a broad river that is the focus of much of its industry. However, it's called the river Suir, and judging from the look of it, I trust the Guinness plant on its banks doesn’t use local water to make its beer here, either.

The town has its own historical ties to the United States. Thomas Francis Meagher, a valiant Civil War officer and the first governor of Montana, was born and lived here — and Waterford hasn’t forgotten him.

But the thing that draws more foreign visitors here, including us, is the Waterford crystal factory, the world’s true “crystal palace.”

Here, you can see glass being blown, formed, shaped, smoothed, colored, poked and pampered all day long. You can also see crystal grandfather clocks, as well as a crystal champagne flute taller than a grandfather clock.

You’ll be dazzled by the beauty of every piece — and blinded by their price tags, even if they are substantially less than you’d pay in your local department store.