Chapter 25, In which we learn a bit of Irish history.

In a more relaxed morning than the previous, we headed down towards Kilmainham Gaol. We were exposed to a wonderful 90 minute tour with a small, 8 person group. One half hour of this tour was a video outlining the history of the Gaol and its place in Irish history, the other hour rested solely on the shoulders of a well versed tour guide who walked us through the prison, showing us the small, painful cells that housed some of Ireland's most famous freedom-fighting heroes.

I spent a lot of time here marveling over the physical nature of the Gaol. I tried to imagine it through the eyes of a prisoner, what it would be like when the sun went down, the lights turned off, with nothing but the flesh on my body protecting me from the stone that seemed to hold centuries of cold and dampness attacking me, slowing wearing away the best resistance my body could put up. It was terrifying. I'm sure any jail would be terrifying, but this ancient structure was built completely as a instrument of torture and destruction. Rehabilitation was not a consideration when up to 5 people were put in a cell no bigger than 6' x 10'. This was a symbol of the end of life; I couldn't imagine anybody walking out of the doors alive.

One of the more haunting aspects contained in the Gaol was an actual letter written by a prisoner to his family as he was soon to be executed.

It wasn't until we left the Gaol until I started to comprehend the identities some of the prisoners that were held between the walls. True, the common criminal could be incarcerated at Kilmainham, as could the starving man caught pilfering food for himself and his family to survive. But many prisoners were political in the early 1900's, specifically in 1916; these are the people who are now regarded as heroes of freedom in the Republic of Ireland today.

The idea just wouldn't sink into my head. To think that I stood in a cell where somebody was incarcerated for wanting a better country to live in, this just would not register. To think that there were people shot for this reason, right on the grounds we were walking on. Again, incomprehensible. My concept of American history never involved this. Nobel heroes like George Washington, Thomas Jefferson...dressed to the nines, signed treaties and valiantly won our freedom on white horses. Right? Something was really missing here.

I know little about Irish history; although my paternal grandfather's family came to America in the early 1900's to escape famine, that was the most information I could ever extract from my grandfather. I never knew why he wouldn't elaborate on the topic, but then, I never dug very hard. I wonder now if the memories were just too painful; I think it is safe to say that Ireland has had one of the more difficult histories over the past 100 years. Maybe Irish immigrants into this country have many bitter memories, both from what they left behind and what followed after they were gone.

If nothing else, there is inspiration to learn more, following the visit.

Chapter 26, In which we take a last tour of Dublin, and say goodbye.

Being our last day in Ireland before our noon flight on Friday, we headed back towards the Temple Bar area to snag a few more souvenirs of the trip and down a last meal in the city. By this point, I'm starting to realize that Dublin is, for its chaos, quite manageable as a driving tourist. For all the complaining I've been doing, this probably sounds pretty strange. Although I am, by no means, defending the city for its lack of organization, I will say that I finally felt somewhat comfortable with getting around.

Looking for Irish Coffee's, we went to The Quays Pub, who was unfortunately out of the necessary creme. Back to the Temple Bar, which was a bit more comfortable in the late afternoon, and which served up some wonderful tasting Irish Coffees. We sat around enjoying these until we headed for dinner at Mezza Luna. Let me just say, Mezza Luna was not only a great last meal in Dublin, it would have been a great last meal on death row. So there is a recommendation for you.

We wandered around the streets a bit more, and just when we were about to leave, we walked a little more. Although we had reached a burnout point on Monday night, Tuesday through Thursday provided enough enjoyment to revitalize us and actually make us sad that we were leaving. At least, a little sad. To be honest, I was happy to be where I was, and I was happy to know that I would be leaving soon. Everything seemed just right.

Heading back to the B&B, we packed up four days worth of growth our possessions had taken over the room, and quietly enjoyed our last evening in Ireland.

Click on the photo to see some pictures of our day.