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Ireland and England Trip - Day 3 of 11
Aug. 25th, 2025 11:59 pmMONDAY
The hotel breakfast was very nice. I concentrated on the sausages, baked beans, smoked meats (including salmon), poached eggs, and fruit.
After breakfast, we took the tram to Trinity College, then waited about an hour for our 9:30 tour. Our guide is about to begin her fourth and final year of undergraduate studies in English literature and Irish language. She had a mighty superstition about walking under the bell tower when it rings, lest she fail her exams. As we passed the dormitories, she told us of a dude who got shot for being a jerk. There were no witnesses because everyone was drunk, but the alleged perpetrators were all expelled. We next explored the geology building (I made a private joke to Gary about Rocks for Jocks). We found a strange bird nesting on the rugby pitch. Finally, she led us to the entrance to the Book of Kells and the Long Room upstairs. We purchased souvenirs and T-shirts from the gift shop before leaving campus.
We went in search of lunch and found a little shop named Póg on Tara Street. We made sure to get pictures of the place for Gary's cousin (once removed) named Tara. They served salads in large portions. I told Gary stories about my introduction to the Irish language being two phrases using póg (kiss), and confirmed them with my sisters via text. The more proper phrase my mother taught me is "Tabhair dom póg" which means "Give me a kiss." My aunt Rose preferred "Póg mo thoin" which means "Kiss my ass." After lunch, we took a tram to the hotel and had an hour's nap.
Our next destination was Croke Park for the stadium tour. Walking around the corner to catch a bus there, I stopped to take a picture of a restaurant named Pho Kim (...if he can't take a joke). We were immediately accosted by a short, stocky dude spoiling for a fight (but with a small smile indicating he might not have been all that serious). Afterwards we chatted with another fellow going our way who had encountered this dude before, and Gary compared it to New York, where it is always advised to walk with purpose. I later wished we'd asked if he wanted to fight or fuck. We made it onto the bus without further incident.
On alighting from the bus, Google Maps directed us down a narrow laneway to the stadium. At the end, we were told the gate was closed because they were dismantling the stage from Robbie Williams' concert over the weekend. So we had to walk completely around the stadium to get in and meet the tour. Luckily, the gentleman we met at the end of the laneway was able to guide us to the correct entrance. Our tour guide was a cute otter-pup named Sean. We started with the dressing room, made our way around to the players' lounge, then out to the field. We then climbed seven levels of stairs (three in the stands and four more on an exterior staircase) to reach the press box. The views were worth it, though. Afterwards we were directed back around the stadium on level seven and then down one flight of stairs and a series of escalators to ground level just outside the museum entrance. The Italian group (far younger than the group who rode the HOHO bus) were amusing, especially when the guys in the group began singing loudly and one lady kept responding, "Basta!" ("Enough!") We explored the museum until it was announced they were closing. We had to follow the path back to where we came, then got a bit lost trying to find a bus back to the hotel, but were assisted by some locals at several points. We finally determined it was quicker and more direct to walk the whole way back to the hotel.
Because we were both desperately thirsty, we stopped by the hotel bar for drinks. I had two pints of Bulmers cider (sold as Magners in the US and Canada) and Gary had one. Afterwards we returned to the room to recharge both our phones and ourselves; Gary napped while I caught up with my journal.
Once Gary was awake and we were both dressed, we went downstairs to the hotel restaurant for dinner. We were seated by a door which was configured as an alarmed emergency exit only. We saw through the window about half a dozen different parties trying to enter via that door, and got into the habit of pointing the way to the entrance around the corner. Gary had the Irish stew and I had the roast rump of Lamb. For dessert, Gary had the blackberry crumble and I had the banana Mille Feuilles with lots of whipped cream.
After dinner, we retired to our room and watched TV until bedtime just after midnight.
The hotel breakfast was very nice. I concentrated on the sausages, baked beans, smoked meats (including salmon), poached eggs, and fruit.
After breakfast, we took the tram to Trinity College, then waited about an hour for our 9:30 tour. Our guide is about to begin her fourth and final year of undergraduate studies in English literature and Irish language. She had a mighty superstition about walking under the bell tower when it rings, lest she fail her exams. As we passed the dormitories, she told us of a dude who got shot for being a jerk. There were no witnesses because everyone was drunk, but the alleged perpetrators were all expelled. We next explored the geology building (I made a private joke to Gary about Rocks for Jocks). We found a strange bird nesting on the rugby pitch. Finally, she led us to the entrance to the Book of Kells and the Long Room upstairs. We purchased souvenirs and T-shirts from the gift shop before leaving campus.
We went in search of lunch and found a little shop named Póg on Tara Street. We made sure to get pictures of the place for Gary's cousin (once removed) named Tara. They served salads in large portions. I told Gary stories about my introduction to the Irish language being two phrases using póg (kiss), and confirmed them with my sisters via text. The more proper phrase my mother taught me is "Tabhair dom póg" which means "Give me a kiss." My aunt Rose preferred "Póg mo thoin" which means "Kiss my ass." After lunch, we took a tram to the hotel and had an hour's nap.
Our next destination was Croke Park for the stadium tour. Walking around the corner to catch a bus there, I stopped to take a picture of a restaurant named Pho Kim (...if he can't take a joke). We were immediately accosted by a short, stocky dude spoiling for a fight (but with a small smile indicating he might not have been all that serious). Afterwards we chatted with another fellow going our way who had encountered this dude before, and Gary compared it to New York, where it is always advised to walk with purpose. I later wished we'd asked if he wanted to fight or fuck. We made it onto the bus without further incident.
On alighting from the bus, Google Maps directed us down a narrow laneway to the stadium. At the end, we were told the gate was closed because they were dismantling the stage from Robbie Williams' concert over the weekend. So we had to walk completely around the stadium to get in and meet the tour. Luckily, the gentleman we met at the end of the laneway was able to guide us to the correct entrance. Our tour guide was a cute otter-pup named Sean. We started with the dressing room, made our way around to the players' lounge, then out to the field. We then climbed seven levels of stairs (three in the stands and four more on an exterior staircase) to reach the press box. The views were worth it, though. Afterwards we were directed back around the stadium on level seven and then down one flight of stairs and a series of escalators to ground level just outside the museum entrance. The Italian group (far younger than the group who rode the HOHO bus) were amusing, especially when the guys in the group began singing loudly and one lady kept responding, "Basta!" ("Enough!") We explored the museum until it was announced they were closing. We had to follow the path back to where we came, then got a bit lost trying to find a bus back to the hotel, but were assisted by some locals at several points. We finally determined it was quicker and more direct to walk the whole way back to the hotel.
Because we were both desperately thirsty, we stopped by the hotel bar for drinks. I had two pints of Bulmers cider (sold as Magners in the US and Canada) and Gary had one. Afterwards we returned to the room to recharge both our phones and ourselves; Gary napped while I caught up with my journal.
Once Gary was awake and we were both dressed, we went downstairs to the hotel restaurant for dinner. We were seated by a door which was configured as an alarmed emergency exit only. We saw through the window about half a dozen different parties trying to enter via that door, and got into the habit of pointing the way to the entrance around the corner. Gary had the Irish stew and I had the roast rump of Lamb. For dessert, Gary had the blackberry crumble and I had the banana Mille Feuilles with lots of whipped cream.
After dinner, we retired to our room and watched TV until bedtime just after midnight.