The Dublin Writers Museum
In July and August 2005, I spent two weeks in Ireland. Most of it was with a tour group via a public radio station, before I stayed at a Dublin hostel for three days. I just discovered online that the Dublin Writers Museum permanently closed during the pandemic.
Yesterday I spent hours sitting in the park — St. Stephen’s Green — but I also spent some of that time wandering around, looking at flowers and fountains and the lake and ducks. I took a stone footbridge curving over the lake, where a painter used a canvas on an easel (looked like the painting was more or less complete) and where many people stopped to admire the view.
In a couple of locations, large rocks overlook the lake, but unfortunately a railing prevented me from climbing on the rocks and sitting there, dangling my feet just above the water. I guess the city doesn’t want to be responsible for drownings. It’s funny, given what other parts of Ireland are like. It reminds me of that windy and rainy day we trudged around the Dingle Peninsula, climbing over slick stone walls to look at medieval ruins. Well, the seventh century oratory isn’t a ruin — it’s been kept up for all these years. Amazing.
From the park I wandered a bit through Temple Bar and saw street musicians and such. I didn’t find the Internet juice café I used nearly two weeks ago. I returned to the hostel and inquired about…