F*cking Kilkenny -- Bus Eirrann and Kevin's

I’m starting this post from the 3^rd row right window seat of one of Bus Eirrann’s many Greyhound-esque buses. I was supposed to take the bus to Dublin last night, but Sinead accidentally dropped me off at the wrong bus stop. Well… it was the right bus stop – two three weeks ago. Bus Eirrann arbitrarily decided to change the stop without putting up any sort of sign to tell even the locals where the new pick up/drop off point was.  The stop is called “Ormonde stop”, so Sinead (logically enough) dropped me off at Ormonde Street.  But this bus company decided it would be much more convenient to move the stop one street up from Ormonde Street. without changing the name. So I waited in a tempestuous, melancholy deluge for a good forty-five minutes for my bus to arrive. Cantankerous, cold and wet, I finally asked a couple of passerbys if Bus Eirrann did indeed stop in front of the hotel where Sinead had left me. I was told, “Sorry, they’ve changed the stop to just up the street and to the right. About a thirty second’s walk from here.”  So I miserably knocked on a cabbie’s window and asked for a ride back to Dunmore. As I had no way of getting in contact with Sinead or Kevin (the fellow putting me up in Dublin), I didn’t know what else to do. Sopping wet, discouraged, and feeling immensely stupid and like a third-rate vagabonder, I curled up on the blue couch with some lusciously creamy Irish yogurt, a couple of cats, and popped “In Bruges” into the DVD player.

In my mind I began substituting “Kilkenny” for “Bruges”.

Colin Farrell: Maybe that's what hell is. The entire rest of eternity stuck in f*ckin' Bruges.

Me: Or Kilkenny.

Sinead came home from delivering the box veg and we decided to give this Dublin trip another go-round in the morning. Hence, having been dropped off at the proper bus stop, I am now about thirty minutes away from the flooded city of Dublin. The trip is taking an extra forty-five minutes because the driver has to go the long way round, given that the capital was hit with a month’s worth of rain within the last 24 hours. A Garda was swept into the Liffey and killed last night. A woman has been found drowned in her home, and there has been extensive damage to the city itself.

Maybe it’s a good thing that I wasn’t able to get on the bus last night. The sky is gloomy, standing water and rubbish riddle the streets and sidewalks, but it’s not raining anymore and I don’t think there is any danger of me being swept into the swollen Liffey.  

Dublin being flooded

And again

There’s a three or four year old child frolicking about in the seats behind me. The only thing consistent about his behavior is that he is never still and never quiet. And enjoys sticking his curious little face between my seat and the window, continuing his bellowing from right beside my elbow The variation is pleasant, I suppose. Instead of one non-stop wail, I have been blessed with a variety of screaming, giggling, shouting, and singing. When his shrieking reaches a universally unacceptable decibel, his mother attempts to calm him by joining in whatever song he’s singing and begging him to sit down.

Next time I pick out my bus seat, I will be much more aware of my bus neighbors. I don’t particularly fancy my seat being jostled by overactive children every few seconds.

~

I’m finishing up this post from the first bedroom to the right of the stairs at Kevin’s. I had a pleasant afternoon wandering the streets of Dublin yesterday, visiting the Chester Beatty Library, and enjoying a cappuccino in Temple Bar. The weather was lovely (for Ireland, anyway), and I was so happy that I didn’t let the news of flooding or the bus stop shenanigans deter me from this trip to the capital.

The Chester Beatty Library is a fascinating place to visit and I would certainly recommend it to anyone and everyone passing through Dublin. I was completely entranced for a solid two and a half hours, and would have spent much longer absorbing the exhibits had I not needed to hurry off to a café to contact Kevin. The library contains some of the oldest religious manuscripts in the world, most of which are exquisitely embossed with gold leaf and intricate leatherwork. The first exhibit was filled with ancient Japanese manuscripts and artwork, some writing preserved on papyrus, beautifully engraved bookbindings from the 1100s to the 1700s, some Mexican art, Turkish art, and a few pieces of rock with cuneiform. Religious texts and artifacts took up the second exhibit (in which I wasn’t able to spend nearly enough time), and different religious music resonated from each religion’s corner, creating an enchanting, mesmerizing harmony. The walls were lined with Bibles, Qurans, Torahs, Hindi texts, Buddhist texts, Jainism texts, and many more that I can’t seem to recall. They were all artfully, painstakingly constructed and masterfully displayed. If I had been permitted to take pictures, I would post some here; but as I was required to turn both phone and camera (one and the same for me) off upon entering the exhibits, I have no pictures to show from my afternoon at the Chester Beatty Library.

Outside the library 

Dublin Castle courtyard

Dublin Castle

I met up with Kevin at 15:00 and we went straight to his apartment, where he’s agreed to put me up until Thursday. He has a fashion designer from New York City staying with him for a few days, as well a Japanese flat-mate who is studying English here in Dublin. I’m enjoying listening to all the accents and observing the different ways people from such vastly different cultures communicate. Watching someone from New York City converse with someone from the south of Japan is very interesting, to say the least. Being able to sit back and listen to conversations like these on a fairly regular basis is working wonders for me in regards to character dialogue and rhythm in my playwriting.

Conversation at Kevin's

As the museums closed around 17:00 and I don’t have enough money (or a lot of desire, actually) to hit the pubs, Kevin, Cecilia, Kevin’s Japanese flat-mate (I won’t even attempt to spell his name), and I spent a pleasant evening indoors. Cecilia prepared a perfectly seasoned salmon dish with green beans and rice, so I dined extraordinarily well. Then we all sat around Kevin’s cozy living room, drinking wine and watching Dr. Strangelove.

I’m off to a somewhat late start for my day of museum hopping, as Kevin and Cecilia are just now waking up. It was a really late night though, and I would probably be just now waking up if my 4 months WWOOFing and yoga hadn’t imparted me with an eternal alarm that goes off every morning at five thirty on the dot.