Day 1 - EPIC, Jeannie Johnston, The Liffey and Vaults Live

Sunday, 15 September 2019
I've planned our walking route for today quite carefully. First up, we're off to see the statue of Molly Malone. Our walk takes us through some uninspiring backstreets but improves as we come around past the Bank of Ireland. We capture some statuary, but I am really drawn to these novel creatures that adorn the street furniture. What are they? And what is their significance? We've asked a cabby as we passed others that adorn one of the bridges but he didn't know.

It turns out that these creatures are called hippocampus.
They are from Greek Mythology and are said to have pulled the chariots of Poseidon and Neptune 

We join the throng of people clustered around Molly. The shiny polish on her breasts and the rim of her garment speak of the abuses a poor young woman must suffer, especially when made of bronze. A shocking sight in the post #metoo era. Having watched a middle aged woman pose cheerfully for a photo whilst she has a handful, I ask Hubby if we wants a non-consensual grope before we leave. Nope. :-) Yeah, it's pretty undignified.

We walk along some more fairly dingey backstreets to the Liffey. The waterside area is a mix of old and new. There are the elegant old statements of economic power such as the Custom House, which now houses the Department of Housing, Planning and Local Government, then there's new buildings that pay their context zero respect and other older neglected buildings for which it appears form was entirely dominated by function.

Custom House

Some sections show the beginnings of what could be a beautiful riverside precinct a la the Seine, but overall it feels like Dublin hasn't quite decided what it wants to be. There's no obvious coherent vision.

One of the nicer sections of the walk along the Liffey

The Linesman by Dony Mac Manus 

 Along the way we enjoy looking at the sculptures, both ornamental and practical. Some of the most artistic are the massive hooks which I gather are used for securing vessels moored along the quays. However my favourite of all is the magnificent sculpture of the Linesman which takes my minds eye to a flourishing and bustling port, the antithesis of the atmosphere today on a quiet Sunday morning.

Matt Talbot Memorial

One memorial that's style sits comfortably with the modern architecture across the river is a statue of Matthew Talbot. Talbot is revered by many Catholics for his "piety, charity and mortification of the flesh". He was made famous when he died suddenly on a Dublin Street and they found cords and chains on his body. He's regarded as a patron for alcoholics though not formally a saint. It seems appropriate that he also has a more useful and practical memorial in the Matthew Talbot Hostel in Sydney. At least I assume he was the inspiration behind the hostel's name.

Wildebeest with a mouthfull

 Having reached my objective on this side of the river at the National Seaman's Memorial, I pause for a brief moment's reflection on those lost at sea on merchant ships during World War 2, then we head over the Sean O'Casey Bridge which gives me a good view of the beautiful Samuel Beckett Bridge downstream. Said to resemble the Irish Harp I am sure I am not alone in thinking this is one of the World's most inspired bridge designs. I just LOVE it. It was designed by Santiago Calatrava, who is a Spanish architect and it's worth googling him to see more examples of his work - they are BEAUTIFUL. Sydney should commission something from him before it's too late. He's 68.  He also designed the James Joyce Bridge further upstream. It would be fascinating to see what he'd come up with for the Australian context.

Samuel Beckett Bridge. Architect Santiago Calatrava.

The Liffey is the first river I've seen that actually looks green and the algae / weed growing on the walls of the embankment make a pretty picture, picking up the green and gold of the avenue of trees above. 

Sean O'Casey was a socialist playwright and the first to write about the poor of Dublin.  He lived in this area across that famous period of republican rebellion from late 1890s to the 1920s. Dublin, as we know, was said to have one of the worst slums in Europe. This grinding poverty experienced by so many in Ireland certainly played it's part in the long struggle for freedom from British rule. The pedestrian bridge named for O'Casey, was built during the time of the Celtic Tiger, opened in 2005 as part of a docklands urban renewal program. It's clearly been very carefully positioned. Just look at the beautiful way it frames the approach to EPIC.

Sean O'Casey Bridge.. Architect Cyril O"Neill

Before I get too carried away on bridges and their architecture and inspiration, simply let me note that in researching those we visited I have come across a wonderful website dedicated to the Bridges of Dublin. I am sure Hubby will enjoy hearing about what it says regarding O'Connell bridge which reminds us so strongly of the bridges across the Seine.

Replica of the Jeannie Johnston

The bridge also gives us a perfect angle on the Jeannie Johnston before I am further diverted by the birds congregated a short way upstream when we step off the bridge. Again there's lots of young birds in the group and a lovely photo opportunity as a man approaches to feed them.

It's about 11 am or so and we're both feeling pretty hungry, so we head into the CHQ building and look for something to brunch on before getting into the museum. There's not much open so we settle for what's available and have a pretty ordinary Full Irish breakfast for Hubby and another pretty ordinary and unsatisfying sandwich for me. As we munch we admire the industrial structure of the building which was built in 1820 to house tobacco, tea and spirits. Well, at least we're not hungry anymore. 

EPIC is a one way route of galleries each gallery focused on a particular theme. They give you a passport and you can stamp them in each gallery as you go round. Kids would like that, and Hubby was diligent and filled his card but I got sick of it and stopped along the way, we don't need two of them. Having lost the photographs we took (a story for another day) I now need to just rack my brain about what was memorable to a sleep deprived visitor. Well, one thing stands way way out in front is an absolutely stunning sculpture that fills one of the rooms. It's formed of asymmetrical sprays of silver metal emerging from a central point along which are depicted various forms of transport used by emigrants to reach their new homes. It is really something to see. An interesting angle on the coverage of the museum is that it discusses the diaspora not just at peak times in history like the famine years but to the present day. Irish nationals continue to head abroad in significant numbers, the most recent peak having occurred at the time of the Global Financial Crisis (GFC) when tens of thousands left Ireland for opportunities abroad. They also cover the high levels of emigration of women due to oppressive and discriminatory laws against women that were introduced when the Catholic Church was tangled up with the Irish State.
In one of the early galleries they run through the stories of some real emigrants in different time periods. I'm pretty chuffed to sea that the Irish orphan girls who were taken to Australia under the Earl Grey scheme are featured. Better still, the example given is a woman who goes to Moreton Bay and marries an ex-convict, precisely as my own forebear Jane Kirkwood did, though Harry Skinner was not yet an ex convict because they initially refused his application for a ticket of leave.
Australian Prime Minister Paul Keating's famous Redfern Speech plays on a huge wall in the gallery discussing the political activism of the diaspora, leading to a little swell of pride within me. Perfectly chosen, that was a great moment of political leadership. Prime Ministers Chifley and Curtin also feature if memory serves. Ireland claims all with Irish descent, not just those born in Ireland. Some twenty something US Presidents were of Irish descent.
What I'm most keen to see here is how they have handled Ned Kelly's iconic status in Australia. He features most prominently in the gallery of Irish artists, being of course the subject of Sidney Nolan's most famous works, but Ned is also noted in the Rogues gallery. There he is roughly equated to Billy the Kid. I look carefully to see if there's any further discussion of him. I can't see anything. I warned the guy on the desk as he was chatting with us, encouraging us to give feedback on our experience, that I might have something to say if I wasn't happy with their presentation of Ned Kelly. I'm not. Of all the places in all the world where you would hope that the significance of Ned Kelly would be understood and fairly represented, I would have hoped it would be Ireland. It's rather ironic that Ireland of all places should simply swallow the establishment's take on Ned and the Gang and what they got up to. On the one hand I get how a superficial reading of the story could lead one to dismiss Ned as a criminal because he did commit criminal acts, even prior to being outlawed based solely on the verbal testimony of a  policeman who was accused of assaulting Ned's sister. Why lionise Ned when so many other Irish suffered similar disadvantage and persecution without resorting to lawlessness. But that really misses the point. Ned is iconic because of the relationship of social justice to criminality. It's also a story of endemic Police corruption. If Ned was just a criminal or a just a rogue why the petition of tens of thousands of names seeking his pardon. Why the Royal Commission of Inquiry into the police which followed his execution and the reforms to the Police Force that were implemented as a result. Ned is a foundation icon for the Australian principle of the "Fair Go". Ned, like Ben Hall before him, did not get a fair go, and a lot of that was due to their Irish ancestry. It's a shame that hasn't been grasped in EPIC, though I guess it's a really complex thing to get across and EPIC deals in broad brush strokes.
By the time we're about half way through we're starting to hit the wall, so we listen to the various videos but mainly make quick progress through the remainder of the galleries and out into the moist grey. 

I'm keen to have a look at the Jeannie Johnston, so we pay our money and stand outside in the drizzle for about 10 minutes until the next tour starts. Jeannie Johnston was famous in the era of the "coffin ships" for having never lost anyone at sea. It's a laudable record and the ship was owned by a principled man who sometimes simply gave destitute passengers their escape to the new world for free. The ship had a doctor and scrupulous hygiene rules. No-one was allowed to board with any sign of illness and they had a quarantine period requirement. It's an interesting tour and nicely concise while also being content rich. 

Our main sightseeing objectives for the day completed we head back for a rest, this time walking along the northern side of the Liffey because I'm keen to see the famine memorial. This is a group of rake thin figures, dressed in rags, one man carrying his weak child across his shoulders. The faces are are drawn in suffering and the finish of the metal is rough and torn. It's a stunning piece of art. Highly emotive.

We head back to the hotel, and I continue to admire the beautiful mooring hooks along the quay. Somehow a blue chip packed has been caught under one of the hooks and I go to remove it so I can photograph only to find someone has actually taken the trouble to lift a hook and put the packet underneath when there's a bin nearby. Bizarre. The hooks are REALLY heavy, so in some ways I'm glad to have had to remove the litter. I'd never have lifted a hook otherwise and they don't look nearly as heavy as they are. 

In places where the road doesn't leave too much of a footpath, they've built very pleasant pedestrian walkways out over the water.  

We rest in our room for a bit before heading back out into the drizzle to walk down Temple Bar to Vaults Live. We're booked on the last show of the day, ballsy when it's arrival day but it's not open tomorrow so I had no choice. Temple Bar is reasonably atmospheric, and there's some famous venues along it, but overall it's a bit of a tourist trap (as virtually every local we talk to warns us). I chose to stay close in here because of the things I was most keen to see of course. Anyway, 15 mins or so walk and we're passing the Dublin City Council building. This must be, entirely justifiably, the most hated building in Ireland. Dreadful history and tragic events eat your heart out. This grey monstrosity, occupying prime riverfront land blocking the view of the graceful cathedral from the water represents a wanton act of cultural and historical vandalism in the face of mass public protests. To build it, they destroyed the viking village they discovered beneath it when preparing for construction. If memory serves it was the largest viking village discovery in Europe. The people protested, the city government ignored them. The site must have had massive tourist potential. The building they've plonked over the site is not even architecturally impressive. It's boring and disrespectful to it's location and the nearby heritage sites. What bloody minded sacrilege.

Surely the most hated building in Dublin

We head in to Vaults Live and are directed to a waiting room upstairs, the first among a group of about a dozen people. The show consists of us moving from room to room, sometimes escorted by historical characters.  Along the way we meet other personalities from Irish History who engage with the audience for a bit of craic. They are each very good. We start with Brigid, a herbalist from around the time of St Patrick. She gives Hubby some herbs to combat the heartburn she has suggested that he suffers. Later she suggests he might share it with me as a sedative when I am startled by a shriek from an alleged banshee relevant to the story Brigid is telling. Other characters include Bram Stoker and Molly Malone, a judge, who calls one of our group to the dock and of course a Viking called Ikea (pronounced ickia"). Ikea makes lots of jokes about planks and flat packs and challenges someone to volunteer to fight him. The group sits quietly as though hoping Ikea won't notice they're there and pick on them. I mutter that if photographs were allowed I'd make Hubby volunteer, Ikea readily agrees and our camera is passed to a fellow guest for the purpose. It's all good fun. We exit through the little gift shop and tea room, browse and buy a few things and Hubby has a coffee, me a water as we chat to the friendly guy serving. Then we're off to find some dinner. 

Still raining we head down to the Brazen Head wander in but it's very busy and noisy and we're very tired so we end up just end up walking in the rain back along the Liffey, to a room service dinner from the food joint next to the hotel.  An early night is called for. The food delivered was pretty ordinary, other than the chowder Hubby got, which was lovely. We flake out and sleep. For a while at any rate.