Category Archives: June 10

The Longroom Library

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One of my favorite sites I have seen thus far in Ireland was the Longroom Library on Trinity Campus. After making our way through the Book of Kells exhibit I found myself surrounded by dusty books and rows of numerous busts portraying some of the most famous literary icons. The library reminds me of Harry Potter, meets Disney’s Beauty and the Beast mixed in with my wildest library fantasy (yes I have an ideal library design mapped out in my brain). There was one downfall, however, to this picturesque library. Each bookcase shelf was labeled with letters that went chronologically through the alphabet and     Every shalf went from I to K completely skipping a row for J’s. I may be slightly biased to this indiscretion since my name is Jolie Jones, but I can’t imagine there was not a single book in that library that begin with a J. This did not damper by overall impression of this magnificent library, but it did make me curious as to why there would not be a J. I may never know the answer because I did not bother to ask, maybe there was a time in Irish history when J’s were considered lesser letters. The day followed with a viewing of Othello at The Abby theatre, where a man is driven mad with jealousy after a false idea is planted in his head by the conniving and manipulative Iago. While I will probably not be driven to this degree of jealousy by the lack of J’s recognized in the Longroom library it was a curious observation.

#dubbelgsu

 

On the Streets of Dublin

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Poets and novelists. These two words have a myriad of meaning & associations, especially to Irish culture and history. Literary figures are intertwined with the Irish Rebellion, Literary Revival, & an independent Ireland. Exploring the streets of Dublin, we came across an alleyway with murals & quotes from famous Irish writers. It is interesting how often I stumbled on representations of these figures (along with political figures) that fought for & stood for a free Ireland: Connolly’s face painted in a bar window, placards to highlight key places in the Rising, the declaration on display at Trinity’s Long Room & copies posted on walls of pubs.

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At one of the pubs we visited, I spoke to a local Dubliner, Paul, about Irish literature. Paul has lived in Dublin all his life & works in telecommunications. He was quite friendly, a little rough around the edges, but he could quote lines/titles from Yeats, Joyce, Heaney, & Wilde. The words of Irish poets & novelists fill the steets, but also linger in the minds of the people who walk them. Although my impression stems from one trip to Dublin & one conversation, I think it is apparent that there is an appreciation & pride in Irish historical & literary figures. Paul also enlightened us in some of the secondary education in Ireland; teachers of secondary education are required to learn & teach Irish. In his secondary school days, he learned Irish but has since then forgotten the language. While we read about the Irish literature, culture & history, I found my short tour of Dublin last night & my discussion with locals a powerful reminder of how the Irish literary & political figures still hold a significant place in Ireland’s modern culture.

 

Othello at The Abbey Theatre and Forgiveness

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Last night, we all went to see Othello at The Abbey Theatre, Ireland’s national playhouse. The stage was minimal and beautiful. The actors were convincing. I thought that the lead, Othello, portrayed Shakespeare’s character in a compelling way. Before the play, we had a nice dinner. Delicious food and great view of Trinity College Dublin just across the street. At dinner, I began thinking about how we were headed a see a play at Ireland’s national theatre that was written by an Englishman and performed for centuries all over the world. I thought about how that might be hard for the Irish, pulling in the British for their own entertainment—another look to the colonizer. I posed the question to others in the class. We talked about how the play was taking the place of a prominent Irish performance and how well…Shakespeare is Shakespeare.

Later, I began thinking about our discussion in class about forgiveness. This word carries so much weight. It normally only exists because of hurt projected on others. We ask forgiveness when we hurt someone, often someone we care about. We receive forgiveness despite whatever action we committed out of selfishness or pride. I think about how the picture of British culture being interspersed with Irish culture. Maybe this paints a picture of national forgiveness, or at least moves in that direction. We talked in class about how forgiveness allows us to move forward. Un-forgiveness only hinders progress.

After the play a few of us walked around Temple Bar, a vibrant district just south of the Liffey. We met a lot of people—some American, some Irish, and some British. We met a few local Dubliners, born and raised in and around the city—Joel, Andy, and a couple of Pauls. I met a Brit in the bathroom, we chatted, and I walked out to meet the other people he was with. I started thinking about how diverse Dublin is. For good or bad, it seems like an easy and attractive place for Europeans from nearby countries to visit. And Americans, obviously, love Ireland. The global mindset of people in Dublin gives me hope that we can both forgive and be forgiven—personally, culturally, and nationally.

 

The Abbey                The Palace

Literary Alleyways

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Today, we had dinner at the Pig’s Ear and then saw a play at the gorgeous Abbey Theatre. The things we are doing and seeing are fantastic; that goes without saying. But I’m also really loving getting to know everyone that came on this trip and getting to spend time in such a beautiful place with wonderful people. After the play, Jolie, Randall, Sara, Kristen, and I went to a few different pubs. Our first stop was the Whiskey Palace for maybe half an hour, then we walked a few streets over to find another pub. I’m not sure what it was called, but the second pub we went to was amazing. A boy played covers of tons of songs we knew (strangely enough including another Man in the Mirror cover), and we had a great conversation about all of our favorite artists and shows we’ve seen. We also met some Irish men that told us about themselves and their families. A man named Paul taught us some new slang that I still haven’t decided whether or not is appropriate. We stopped to get overpriced hot dogs, fries, and pizza on our way out of the pub to our cab. Our cab driver (also named Paul), was as funny and kind as most of the other people we’ve all met so far on this trip. This picture was taken in a really cool alleyway on our way to the Whiskey Palace. It had photos of novelists and poets lining the walls, and we thought it was as good a place as any to stop for an obligatory selfie. We definitely missed Alex and Harlow!

Defining a Place

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long hallToday a small group of us went to Trinity College to see the Book of Kells and the Long Room.  I was particularly struck by the latter, especially when considering place.  When preparing for the trip, I often saw pictures of the Long Room.  It is so iconic, in fact, that it is on the cover of my Dublin guidebook.  In the photos, the hall is empty.  It looks like what it is (or what I thought it was) – a library.  One can imagine oneself studying dutifully amid the stacks of antique books.  As an avid reader and amateur book collector, libraries to me are a sacred place.  I usually enter a library, especially like the one at Trinity, with the same reverence that I would a cathedral.

But contrary to, or possibly because of, the popular photos of the Long Room, what we entered today was little more than a tourist attraction.  The room was filled with people.  And although most spoke in the semi-whisper heard in libraries everywhere, it definitely did not have the sense of awe or gravitas that I was expecting.  What’s additionally interesting is that the behavior and energies of other people affected how I interacted with the place.  I fell right in with everyone else: snapping pictures, pointing at funny things or making jokes, and in general bringing brevity to the situation.

I could be mad about the way people, including myself, were behaving.  And I think that it comes down to how we define a place and how that definition should affect our behavior.  If the Long Room is above all a library, then it should be treated as such.  Or, if it is a “top sight of Dublin,” then it carries a very different kind of reputation.  What was strange was that it kind of had both.  People, myself included, treated it more as a tourist site, but we still whispered while walking through.  So I am left considering how much the title of a place affects the reputation of it, which is then perpetuated by the behavior of the individuals in that place.

To Love an Introvert…

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…is to give them a place to be alone.  Or at least this works well for me.  I happen to very much so enjoy the company of everyone I have met on this trip, but I also constantly find myself overwhelmed and just uncomfortable when I spent a good deal of time in public.  Like anything else, some days are worse than others, and today just so happened to be one of those days where I just wanted to think and be with myself.  I am fortunate enough to have the space to do this without fear of those around me reactiving in a negative manner (and thank you all for that).  Today I became very comfortable with one of my new favorite places on the University campus: my room, specifically the space near the window where I am very tempted to sit, but not bold enough to risk damaging the room.  Having this area to just sit and chill out is hugely important to my sense of okayness, and I feel like this trip might be very different for me if not for this personal area.  Right now I love with my mom, who is fantastic, but fairly overbearing, so this really is something that I appreciate.

Tiger Tiger Burning Bright

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Miscellaneous cat in Dublin, Ireland.

 

My cat Maddie, looking adorable.

My cat Maddie, looking adorable.

 

I am inordinately fond of cats.

 

Since early childhood, I have been very much a cat person, and that love of cats is strongly attached to my desire to forge a concept of place. When I was a child, as I mentioned in my previous blog post about my concept of place, a lot of things changed in my life and I really had a tendancy to latch on to things that provided me with a feeling of consistency. When my mother and I adopted our first cat, Sassy (a boy cat unfortunately named by the very young me after a girl cat in the movie Homeward Bound), we had previously owned a few other animals that, unfortunately, had died. The ranks of the deceased had recently come to include a beagle, Brownie, who had been put down after attacking and hospitalizing an elderly caretaker while we were away, and a stuffed surrogate dog puppet I had named the same that I found out the hard way had been infested by wasps.

 

Sassy hay became a constant in my life and, as my mother and I began moving from place to place again, he became a marker that I could look for when I wanted to find the place I belonged. Because of this association with belonging and with home, I have come to my inordinate fondness of cats, and I always feel a pang of nostalgia and belonging when I see one. It helps that cats, when of the friendly inclination, don’t seem to care where a person is from or what language they speak as long as that person is willing to give them pets. It’s as if they were designed by nature to communicate to strangers’ “here, even here, you can find a way to belong.”