A little more Dublin and exploring roots

Our last few days in Dublin, post our infamous pub crawl (Jim is still composing his words and thoughts about it, but I figured if we didn't put something up here, you would all give up on checking the blog!), were spent with a mixture of exploring more of Dublin, museums, and then a trip to the center of Dublin to meet more relatives and see where Jim's mom was born and raised.

Here is the view from Jim's cousin's house in Longord, but more about that later.

This is Grafton street area...the premier shopping and eating section of Dublin. We were able to eat, but because we were to be flying to England on RyanAir, we were not able to add a single ounce to our suitcases as they have such a low weight limit. So, with great regret but even greater will power (and fear of the wrath of RyanAir baggage check in and their infamous extra fees) we passed by the many summer sales signs and instead went on our way to explore museums and gardens. The weather continued to impress us.

This is the statue of Guinness - he has the status of "Lord" in this town and we can, based on the impressive pub economy, understand why. Anyway, he built this beautiful St. Stephen's green park on the edge of Grafton street.

Pictures do not do it justice - you would almost need an aerial view to get a sense of the layout of the many paths - all very relaxing to stroll through, flowers galore, lakes/streams and ducks

and many tributes to the literary history of Dublin. More James Joyce Gioia with James Joyce the author,

and Oscar Wilde relaxing - and looking as if has had a few pints!

Even though we are not big museum goers, we did hit a few interesting ones. We started at the Dublin City Library Geneology Center which had a number of data bases in which one could do searches of family names. Of most interest was the data base for the 1901 and 1911 Census. While we had Jim's mom's birth certificate, that only gave us the street she lived on, not the actual street #. With the census data base we were able to find her father's family information (he was 18 in the 1911 census) which actually had the street address - and a microfilm of the actual handwritten form done for both census. What an exciting find and it gave our planned trip to Longford a definite focus.

We also toured ChristChurch and its crypt which was in the Dublinia (Viking) section of Dublin. There is a history of controversy about the Viking ruins as the city planned constructing a new city government office building on the site of the old viking village - demonstrations ensued, however the city forged ahead. Later, a Viking museum was built probably with great embarrassment and apology to the citizens of Dublin. It was a museum more geared to school children (we confirmed with Deirdre and Mike that it was standard field trip fare) but still gave a good overview of viking life and culture in Dublin. One section had a re-creation of a viking house, including the outhouse, with a mannequin of a man sitting on the toilet, sound effects and all. We figure that is a big hit for the school kids - and something you would NEVER see (or hear) in a US museum!

We ended with the amazing Chester Beatty Library which is adjacent to the Dublin Castle we had toured earlier in the week. It houses "the artistic treasures of the great cultures and religions of the world" - manuscripts prints, icons, early printed books. Just a stunning collection. It also had a zen roof garden - which gave us a bird-eye view of the river eel design of the lawn outside the castle.

Our final day in Ireland started with a conversation-filled 90-minute drive with cousins' Deirdre ("Dee") and Mike ("Mick") - everybody here seems to have a nickname - to Longford. The view from the car window (and then from the train window on the return to Dublin) was just what we expected...green rolling hills, sheep and cows, mountains off in the distance, an occasional lake.

Longford in the center of Ireland - you can see that all signs in Ireland are posted in English and Irish (Gaelic). On the return train ride we were able to hear the audio translations, and it is not a very phonetic language.

We arrived at cousin Bernadette's house (also called "Barnie") - she is Andrea's sister and Jim's mom's first cousin (her father and Jim's maternal grandmother were siblings). Other relatives streamed in to meet the American cousins - including Barnie's brother Bryan

his wife, daughter, and grandchildren (with little James). They began to discuss the various family members -including other relatives that are actually in London and Oxford who we might arrange to meet - including a famous Irish clothing designer John McCormack (he designed Deirdre's wedding dress - lucky her as he is apparently designer for the "stars"). I found myself getting completely confused - and rightfully so, as every generation and "arm" of this family has a Patrick and a Mary. I went into my family therapist mode and drew out a genogram, so now it all makes sense to me.

After a fabulous lunch (we had heard that Barnie was a great cook, and that proved to be quite true), Barnie drove us around Longford. Because we had secured the actual address where Jim's mom's family was living when she was born, we were able to zero in on it at 9 Ward's Terrace (we figured out that the "terrace" refers to the rowhouse, with the street name actually being different)

So, it turned out that the house was for sale and while I was taking pictures of the exterior, out comes the "owner" - I put that in quotes because I'm still not quite sure he was the owner as he seemed and smelled more like a homeless man. He was very welcoming, although we could only understand about 50% of what he said. He invited us in to see the interior and described that he bought the house 4 years ago hoping to fix it up and "flip" it, but with the downturn in the economy that wasn't working out. If this is fixed up to sell, can only imagine what it looked like before.

Anyway, here you see him pointing stuff out to Jim in the living room, with Jim holding a plaque of the last supper. He described that plague as being on the wall when he moved in and he couldn't bear to get rid of it.

This row house is where the family moved to next (MUCH nicer than Ward's terrace) - we didn't have an house # so this picture focuses on the one with the prettiest garden.

Part of the purpose of our journey was to bury some of Jim's mom's ashes in the plot of her grandparents with whom she often lived when her parents where in the United States (her dad was working in the US and her mom would go back and forth). The experience was filled with surprising emotion and a spiritual sense of bringing Theo home. Our thoughts as we have gotten to know these Irish relatives are "mom would have loved all of them."

Discovering Dublin and Family

Prior to this trip I would have said that we (or at least Jim) have the "luck of the Irish" in terms of the wonderful weather we have had. During our Monday tour, we heard a lot about the many twists of fate in Irish history that were really more about bad luck. But for us, the good news is that they are having the warmest summer since 1994, so wonderful weather in which to walk and see this beautiful city. We forced ourselves to stay awake until 9 p.m. Sunday night so that we would be on Europe time and off we went after breakfast to see what we would find. On Sunday we explored the north side of the Liffey river (where our hotel is) so Monday we crossed over the bridge. Like the Seine, each bridge is different, with a unique design and history.

While walking through the rotunda of City Hall, we happened upon a free walking tour (Sandemans New Europe) with a wonderful guide - Peter - and spent the next several hours wandering the streets and sights of south Dublin enthralled with his stories. Here you see him sitting outside the door of the birthplace of Jonathan Swift ("Gulliver's Travels") telling us about Swift's "Modest Proposal" to deal with the problems of Ireland at the time. Swift identified the three problems in the society (too many children being born, poverty, and the upper class not having enough protein in their diets) could be resolved by three simple solution: the poor could sell their children (solving poverty) to the wealthy, who could then eat them (solving the other two issues). Just a small "taste" of how our tour guide went beyond the standard facts and stories! And a bit about the dry wit and satire of the Irish.

Here is Temple Bar - block after cobblestone block of pubs, clubs and restaurants. There is no trouble finding a beer ANYWHERE in this town. You will hear more about Temple Bar in another post that Jim will author...

Our tour guide also provided a rich history of the British/Irish conflict particularly as we walked through Dublin Castle.

This grassy area was once a black pool harbor and was how Dublin got its name (Dubb Linn means "black pool"). The pattern in the grass is representing the river eels, and the area is actually the helicopter landing pad for dignitaries. The structure at the back of the lawn is the Carriage House - but was not really used as that, but rather it was built so that when the Queen visited she would not have to view the slums surrounding the castle.

Flowers are everywhere - the fuchsias are brilliant

This is Trinity College, the oldest University in Dublin founded in 1592 (and the Alma Mater of our tour guide). We departed the tour at this point because we had family to meet!

So off we went back to to our hotel. Just have to share one of the many quotes on the side of the building next to our hotel, outside the Living Room club. We are apparently quite lucky that World Cup is over - because apparently it would have been quite noisy and wild.

Before I launch into the "family" part of this post, I want to explain that Jim had never met or had contact with any of his relatives in Ireland. A few weeks before we left for the trip, Jim contacted his cousin Chris in Long Island who has visited Ireland several times and he put us in touch with some of the cousins who live here. We exchanged a few emails, and arranged to meet his cousin Andrea at the Dublin hospital where she works as a cardiac care nurse Monday afternoon. Now, Chris had sent us a photo of her, so we had some idea of who we were looking for - but she had no clue about us. We did connect up, but only after she first approached an elderly gentleman thinking he looked like he could be a "James" from America. So she went up to him with a tentative "James?" only to have him look at her with a blank and irritated stare. She was very relieved that her next guess was the correct "James" from America.

She was completely dear and welcoming as we piled in to her car. As we began the drive to the coastal town (Skerries) where she lives, she asked "so who are you and how are we related?" and admitted she doesn't check her email so hadn't seen the detailed explanation Chris had sent to her about the family connection. There were some tentative moments during the listing of who's who in the McCormack family (Jim's maternal grandmother's side) where there was confusion (was his name Peter or Patrick??) where we all began to wonder if there was any truth to the story that we were related. Fortunately, when we arrived at her house, out came the photo albums and Jim was able to clear up some mysteries that she had about who the people were, and any doubt was erased. Yes, we are related!

At her house we were met by her two daughters, Iemer (age 29, back living at home and looking for work), Deirdre (a high school PE teacher in Coventry, England), her husband Mike (a professional Rugby player), and their little guy, James. We had a great time - lots of stories and laughs. We felt at home, as if they were cousins we had known for years.

We have tentative plans to join Mike and Deirdre on Thursday to drive out to Longford, the town where Jim's mom was born and raised.

This windmill is in front of Cousin Andrea's house in the very quaint fishing village of Skerries, on the Irish Sea about a 20 minute drive from Dublin

No mistaking this little guy as Irish...

Here is Jim with his newly discovered (at least to him) Irish relatives.

To Jim's right is cousin Deirdre's (the pregnant one) husband Mike holding baby James; to Jim's left is his mom's 1st cousin Andrea, then her daughter's Deirdre and Eimear.

So, that was our VERY full Monday in Ireland.

Stay tuned for the Temple Bar adventure of Tuesday...

Hello From Dublin

Statues of The Famine along the Liffey river

Where are thoroughly enjoying Dublin - but internet at hotel is sketchy at best...so haven't been able to post until now. And uploading of photos is quite slow, so only posting a few. Here you can see Jim and James Joyce. For those of you that don't know this, Jim's full name is actually James Joyce Gioia - named after his mother's favorite author. She was born and raised in Ireland, and we plan to visit her hometown of Longford on Thursday.

But here are some thoughts from Jim at the end of our first day here (Sunday night):

Expectations are a funny thing. Sometimes they are very clear and articulated but most of the time you only come to know them when they are not met. I’d have to say that the first day in Dublin was about the unmet variety. Granted, I was exhausted and cranky. We’d been awake for 23 hours by the time the bus from the airport dumped us onto O’Connell Street. The nonstop flight from San Francisco to London was non-descript. It was long, I believe the shuttle can circle the globe in less time, but nothing unique. It wasn’t until we boarded the Aer Lingus connection from London to Dublin that my first un-articulated expectation surfaced. As we sat, strapped into our seats, the captain welcomed us to “flight 155 to DOOOblin.” There it was…the brogue. Suddenly my unconscious fantasy about Ireland became a florid reality in the form of cochlear vibrations hitherto experienced only through Liam Neesom movies and Lucky Charms commercials. I was here for the brogue. You could have served me shit on toast and I’d have asked for seconds if you did it with a brogue. For all I know the captain was a Texan who took a dialect training course in Bangalore, but no matter, I was all in..pot o’gold and all.

The problem with Dublin, however, is that it doesn’t seem to be a very uniquely Irish town. Again, I am cranky and tired and this is just the first day, but there are no Irish in Dublin, at least none of the brogue–endowed I had imagined. That is when another expectation surfaced. Dublin is a melting pot of incredibly diverse peoples. Walking Earl and O’Connell streets is no different than Broadway in New York or Las Ramblas in Barcelona (somehow Champs D’Lysee seems to maintain a uniquely French quality). The patchwork of storefronts and their ethnically diverse patrons made it clear to me that what I wanted, what I came to Ireland for were the Irish. I wanted the legendary Irish townspeople with the twinkle in their eyes and the red in their cheeks. I wanted the genial warmth and good cheer, the story-telling over pints of Guinness. I wanted the fair-skinned beauties with their freckled skin and red hair. I wanted the Dublin of James Joyce and Ezra Pound. I wanted wit and charm and stubborn optimism in the face of bleak economic times. These are not days of famine but the economic boon Ireland has enjoyed over the past few decades seems to have faded along with the rest of the European economy. This shopping district was more discount mall with 50- 70% off signs papered over its store windows. I embrace the mall experience. For centuries the market-place has been the beating heart of the community. Whether Stoneridge Mall in Pleasanton or Stonehenge (oh yes, I believe that Stonehenge was once a failed strip mall) people are drawn to the marketplace to merge with each other in communal agape. The only things Irish here are the monuments to Parnell, O’Connell and the inconspicuous statue of James Joyce on Earl Street. There he was, even my beloved James Joyce, whose unreadable novels have vexed me for years, was nothing more that a gathering point for semi-comatose druggies of the sort you can find anywhere. Where are the Irish?

While searching for a Vodafone store to unlock the cell phone we bought last year in Portugal we were approached in the street by someone asking if we needed help. There she was... a twinkle-eyed, genially-grinned native of Dublin who, in a matter of a few Irish story telling minutes, shared that her family has inhabited this town for 10 generations. She herself was born and raised here. Her grandfather and uncles were part of the Easter Uprising in 1916. She not only directed us to the street we were looking for but told us the history of that street as well as the history of other points surrounding us including the protestant church where John Wesley delivered his first Irish sermon in 1747 and Alec Guinness was married in 1761. She asked about us and could tell we were Americans. She could easily been my grandmother or a spinster aunt because I was sure somehow we were related. That’s how at home she made me feel. I had found my Irish. It brings tears to my eyes and gives me hope that my expectations, conscious or yet-to-be conscious, will be met in the Emerald Isle.

More to follow...

Some thoughts on home exchange

Would not have predicted it...but here we are, off to Europe again.

This trip sort of fell in our laps. Last year as we were trying to figure out where to go, we posted our house on www.sabbaticalhomes.com which is a small home exchange website for academia folks. Nothing came of it and we ended up renting the house in Portugal.

But, out of the blue, in early March we received an inquiry from a professor in Oxford, England interested in working out a trade. After a series of emails we decided it was meant to be...not knowing if anybody would ever choose our house again plus Jim has been wanting to go to Ireland to see where his mom grew up, so we figured we could combine the trip. We have had several skype/video calls with the people (she is a sociology professor and Brunel University in London, and he is a science professor with Open University; they have a 10 year old son). They seem like lovely people...weird that we won't meet them in person, or they us.

Below you can see their front door welcoming us! Anyway, it is a TON of work getting ready to leave on a trip while getting your house ready for mystery visitors. Lots of cleaning, gathering together maps and area information for them, as well as writing up instructions on how to operate our appliances and the ridiculous number of remotes it takes to operate a television.

So we fly out of SF tomorrow 7/24 (SF) and arrive in Dublin, Ireland on Sunday, 7/25. We will spend 5 nights there including a day trip to Longford where Jim's mom was born and raised. With the help of Jim's cousin we have located some cousins in the area and will try to meet them. On 7/30 we will arrive at our "new home" in Oxford and will be there until the 13th of August.

Check in every couple of days to hear/see what we are up to!

Jim and Lisa

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