In my last dispatch, I announced my mother, Stacy, was coming to visit and would be writing this week’s post. I hope you enjoy it as much as I did having her here. Many of the places/experiences/foods she mentions have been discussed in previous dispatches, so be sure to check out some of those to get the scoop. If you ever find yourself in Dublin, I’d be happy to show you around too! I now present to you:
“A Bright and Sunny Dispatch (Alternative Title: She Lies)”
As promised, and much to my delight, Jenny has allowed me to take over this week’s dispatch. I feel obligated to start by telling you that my daughter is a great big liar. Throughout the winter, she’s reported to me regularly on how gray, wet, and dark her days have been. Led me to believe that my So-Cal girl might be suffering from a lack of sunshine and Vitamin D. Well, I’m here to tell you that the entire past week, until this very morning, my day of departure, it was brilliantly sunny with happy blue skies overhead. There was a chill in the air but nothing close to what I’ve been listening to her complain about since sometime around early November. Perhaps I simply brought the sunshine with me—it’s possible—but perhaps she hath exaggerated her plight…
Now on to a few observations, highlights, oddities, and bits of advice:
Should you find yourself flying on Aer Lingus, under no circumstance should you drink the coffee. I don’t know exactly what the hot liquid is that they propose to be coffee, but I struggle to find words to accurately describe the flavor. I’m coming up with things like “metallic” and “gutter mud” and “motor oil.” No amount of milk can save it. Just trust me on this and take the tea instead.
You may remember that Jenny has written about morning buns procured from Bread 41, conveniently located near her apartment and right next door to the hotel I stayed in. She did in fact NOT lie about how delicious they are. If in Dublin, do make a stop there. Bonus: their coffee was delicious.
Speaking of the hotel, it was one of those set up more like a little studio apartment…imagine if Ikea made a hotel, that’s what it felt like, just not quite as cute and colorful. All the furniture was rectangular and mildly uncomfortable and there were some Ikea-like oddities… most specifically the soap dispensers in the bathroom. The one next to the sink was labeled “hand soap / skin cleanser / carpet cleaner / foam party” and the one in the shower said “shower gel / shampoo / body wash / bubble beard.” Do with that information what you will. I’ll also add that I am fairly certain both of them dispensed the exact same soap.
One morning Jenny took me to the much-revered grad-students-only Reading Room. (Technically I wasn’t allowed in but no one checks and as Jenny pointed out, there are plenty of other “old people” getting advanced degrees at advanced ages, so I blended in just fine.) The Reading Room lived up to its hype. It feels grand and exclusive and intelligent and comfortably worn in—and mildly stressed out like every student within its walls. We spent a delightful two hours or so, each doing our work, feeling productive. The air was silent, focused, calm except for an occasional scrape of a chair… and a very loudly squeaking door that needs some WD40 but apparently they just don’t bother because Jenny says it’s been like that since she got there and I honestly can’t imagine how hundreds of students rotating through here all day every day are just all okay with this. I mean, you could hear a pin drop in that place. I was afraid to breathe too loudly. But every time someone entered or exited this beautifully serious and historied old building, a distinct and prolonged squeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeak accompanied the closing swing of the door. Every time. Every. Damn. Time.
Favorite little bits and moments:
o From now on I will be referring to arugula as “rocket.” I don’t know why they call it that but you must admit a Rocket Salad sounds like so much more fun.
o Sipping Orchard Thieves Cider on draft at The Duke, a dark old pub with weathered wood tables and uncomfortable bar stools… not sure it gets any better than that.
o The architecture of all the Georgian buildings in contrast with the modern-design construction is somehow a perfectly balanced combination. It just works.
o Since Dublin seems to have no rules on which side of the sidewalk we’re all going to use, a simple outing turns into a chaotic free-for-fall guessing game in which you dodge your opponents coming from the opposite direction.
o Stock up on Forest Feast brand bagged nuts, particularly the chocolate covered ones. Trust me.
Final word of advice: Should you ever have the great privilege of visiting Jenny in Dublin, you must ask her to take you to the hidden speakeasy for the best cocktails and best food I’ve had there. And when she says to you “Press the pig”… just do it.
Written with much gratitude and all the love in the world for my intrepid host, my daughter the ex-pat, who is living her best life and shared it with me for the week. Until next time, slán!
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