Indiana Jones and the Tempura of Doom
Friday, 3/9
Friday was a gorgeous day in Dublin, sunny, but windy. The day started out well enough, with as close as we got to a traditional Irish breakfast at Cafe Canale, which was on the walk from the hotel to the city center. I had scrambled eggs with cheese, white toast with butter and orange marmalade, and tea from a dented red metal pot.
By the way, in a lot of the cafes, you can order tea, or you can order a pot of tea for two for slightly less than two individual teas. I approve, not so much because of the miniscule savings, but because there is something inherently cozy and sociable about sharing a pot of tea.
From breakfast, we went over to Dublin castle for The Tour. The castle is the only museum in which photography is allowed (in most of the rooms) and I took advantage. The lower yard of Dublin Castle is now a parking lot, but the upper yard is more or less still exactly that; an open courtyard, with sufficiently few openings as to make defense a feasible thing. In fact, the attempt to storm it was made as recently as 1916, but was ultimately unsuccessful, and the GPO (General Post Office) on the north side of the Liffey was taken over instead.
But I digress.
Dublin castle has been through several iterations since the Normans first built it (interestingly enough, it was not built on the site of the old Viking fort on the Liffey—although there are government buildings on that site as well). Only one of the towers from that era is still intact; when the gunpowder tower catches fire as it did at some point in the 1600s, the effects are spectacularly destructive. Like so much of the rest of Dublin, the majority of the current structure dates from Georgian times. Most of the structure is still used as government offices, as well, so the tour only covers a fraction of the complex.
We started out in an entryway that’s larger than my living room, complete with lovely ceiling detail, scupture in niches, marble columns and floors, and the traditional Georgian paint job. From there, we went upstairs, to the landing where the coats of arms of the Presidents of Ireland are displayed. The Presidency is mostly ceremonial, but the national herald does right by them nonetheless.
From there, the tour went to the Connolley Room, where James Connolley spent time recuperating from injuries incurred during the Easter Rising, before his execution. Famously, he was not sufficiently recovered enough to stand for his execution, and was tied to a chair before being shot.
The king’s bedroom, queen’s bedroom, and queen’s dressing room were next, all about the size of a largish bedroom in a modern American house, and the usually brightly-painted walls with white trim, Georgian decor, etc. We went into the ladies’ drawing room (called the Wallflower Room by James Joyce) which was replete with petticoat mirrors, lush carpet (not period), blue brocade, and lots of gold scrollwork. The throne room, last used for its intended purpose by Queen Victoria, was next, also with lots of gold scrollwork, as well as acres of red velvet. There’s a courting couch opposite the throne, but it is now for display purposes only so I can’t speak to its efficacy.
The state dining room is big enough to accommodate a table for 60 (although it’s not in there now), and has domed spy mirrors on the wall opposite the place where the Viceroy or other High Muckety-Muck used to sit. The opposite wall has portraits of the Lords Lieutenant of Ireland, including Charles Cornwallis. Losing the Revolutionary War didn’t seem to have hurt his career any; in addition to being Lord Lieutenant of Ireland, he spend time as an ambassador and had a couple of stints as Governor-general of India. Apparently his disposition never improved, though; his portrait is hung lower than the others and partly obscured by the door in recognition of his brutality in the course of his duties.
The final room in the State Apartments was the ballroom, which has enormous Baroque paintings on the ceiling, creating a sort of allegorical homage to Irish inferiority to the British. Coats of arms of the various members of the now-defunct Order of St. Patrick hang around the room., and the Order’s insignia is prominently displayed above the musicians’ gallery.
Lastly, we went underground, and saw the remains of the gunpowder tower, a surviving postern stair, and part of the (mostly drained) moat. After the tour (which ends with a strategic exit through the cafe and gift shop) we went out back to the garden where the original black pool that gave Dublin its name used to be. The river runs underground now. The garden has some Tim Burton-esque ironwok fencing, some very nice bits of sculpture of various styles tucked away in corners, and snake-headed brick paths knotting their way through the central lawn.
As the Chester Beatty Library was right there, we wandered in, but it turns out that the place is currently undergoing some renovation, and only part of the collection, mostly religious artifacts from around the world, was on display. It was still worth the time to visit; there are 8th-century Southeast Asian Buddhist scrolls, intricate and gorgeous Persian and Turkish Korans, and biblical papyri. This is another museum in which I’d like to spend some quality time, given the opportunity and access to the full collection.
For lunch, we went over to Yamamori on Great George’s Street South; according to Mick the music teacher it’s the best Japanese restaurant in town. Housemate and I both had tempura, which was kind of oily, and I’m sorry to say that we spent most of the rest of the day in various states of gastrointestinal discomfort. Before the tempura made its full effect known, we stopped into Knobs and Knockers, the stock of which is not nearly so risque as the name of the shop would lead one to believe. We also stopped at the supermarket on the way back to the hotel, and ended up skippng a full dinner in favor of tea and apple tarts (which were not bad, for supermarket pastry).
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