The last of the French class and tutoring ended on the 6th. It was a tough slug fest but it was done. The 7th brought the World Rugby games back into focus with Scotland playing Ireland. Lots of Brits and Scots in town for the match (unfortunately, Scotland lost). Also, no sooner had we closed the language sessions than we were thrown into getting our apartment clean for visitors. The kind of cleaning one does for Spring cleaning or for a party or for a guest – is way above the cleaning one does for one’s own comfort. We drove ourselves crazy in our scrubbing, making sure no corner was ignored. Finally the apartment was ready, the laundry was done and our bags packed for our Dublin/ Scotland trip. We even managed to get our 6th Covid booster shot, although the seasonal flu shot would have to wait until our return.
Of course just when we were relaxed and patting ourselves on the back for getting it all done in time, I caught a cold and naturally, G did too. To say that we were not massively unhappy with this turn of events or that we were anything less than miserable would be an outright lie. My nose was so irritated that it looked like I’d been in a close encounter with a brick and would remain looking like that for the entire trip.
Added to that were a few other unpleasant layers of change, the result from living above a restaurant and below three musicians. For the five years we have lived in this apartment (which we marked on 10/23), the bottom floor was a fast food restaurant, Factory & Co., that started the day baking its breads and pastries. The smell of fresh baked bread and croissants would greet us in the mornings as it wafted up the stairwell. The restaurant sold this year to a fast food chain outfit (GoMu) whose breads are pre-purchased and we now are enduring a constant fragrance of their beef patties cooking oil. The photo on the left shows our floor’s balcony and windows right below the dormer windows at the roof line.
We have always been below four flatmates and for the past five years there have always been at least two musicians. One was a classical violinist and another a classical guitarist. We have a great relationship with them all (past and present) and found them to be very considerate. The agreement has been that the practicing ends by 9:30 pm and that if they’re to be playing loudly, they do so in the living room since that space is not above us. That space is above a unit which is seldom occupied, being kept as a pied à terre. This month however, presented a new challenge to our peaceful arrangement in the form of an organ. We haven’t seen it but it’s likely a portable organ with pedal board as in the photo.
One of our newest flatmates purchased the item and it sounded as if they were rolling a pirate’s ship cannon across the floor above us, when it arrived. Once the playing commenced, it had the sound of clog dancers performing for a circus. Very odd, very loud, accompanied by persistent, rhythmic thumps on our ceiling. Laying in bed, having this chaos above our head, was more than we could deal with. Fortunately, as I said, the relationship with the four neighbors is quite good and after some discussion, the organ was moved over to their living room. Sleep was our much appreciated reward. The smell of cooking oil unfortunately is here to stay for all tenants in our building. As is the threat of fire, which did occur during it’s construction. We put in smoke alarms on all floors and for ourselves purchased an escape rope ladder for the balcony as well as a fire exstinguisher.
We were fatigued from all of our activity but sufficiently recovered as we traveled (with masks, hand sanitizer and sanitizing wipes), by train to CDG from Lille and flew Air France from Paris to Dublin. Arriving in Dublin shortly before dinner on Friday the 11th, we texted our long time friend from Denver and his son (B and A) whom we were meeting, that we had arrived. Mustering up the energy, after checking into the Shelbourne Hotel, at the edge of Stephen’s Green and dropping our bags to see them, we all shared a drink before grabbing a bite to eat. We wished we had the energy to wander through Stephen’s Green more thoroughly.
Poor B and A put up with our dubious company after fist bumping and distancing as much as it is possible over a drink at our Shelbourne hotel. We shared a lot of great stories, laughing ourselves silly before heading out for dinner. At this point we weren’t able to find an originally planned destination and landed at an Italian restaurant.
The service was good the dinner was delicious, more stories before parting and back at our hotel, we climbed gratefully into bed, surrounded by tissues and cough drops – it’s always the cough that hangs on. Posting the “Do Not Disturb” sign on our room door, we slept most of the next day, ordering room service when hungry. B & A were kind enough to invite us to a soccer game that evening (Ireland lost) but we couldn’t garner the umph. We just don’t bounce back like we used to.
On Saturday, we did manage to struggle up for air and met B & A in the morning to wander the Temple Bar area searching for a couple of Saturday markets – it was a bust. We visited the Christ Church Cathedral, deciding not to pay to enter but enjoying the exterior on a sunny, brisk morning. We briefly walked a bridge on the river Liffey that separates north and south Dublin. In the early afternoon we enjoyed lunch with them at the Brazen Head, the oldest pub in Ireland, before their departure the next day. Of course we picked all the traditional things; a seafood chowder, fish and chips and bangers and mash. I’m sorry we didn’t take photos – we were too busy eating.
Afterward, we made our way back to our hotels, once again wandering through the Temple Bar area with lots of people out enjoying the day and the pubs. Upon arrival at our hotel we slid right back under the covers. Call us woosies, we’re not ashamed. And as an aside, I’m not sure I understand the fascination with having the word ‘head’ in the title of bars or restaurants, of which there are quite a few. The Stag’s Head. The Brazen Head, The Boar’s Head, The Pig’s Head – in our town there is The Queen’s Head. Haven’t come across anything as morbid as John the Baptist – but you get my point (don’t worry if you don’t, my brother didn’t). I can’t imagine why someone thinks that’s an attractive feature when deciding on the name of a place.
Our well planned Dublin trip was spent pretty much prone, in our hotel room, simply because if felt good and we could do what we wanted. We’re retired, so there. I can say that the Shelbourne in Dublin is a great place to be sick or recover from being sick. They have a good menu for room service and their staff is extremely hospitable. My only complaint is they are known for piping their lobbies with signature scents and for me it was as bad as those horrible beauty shops full of competing fragrances that attack your sinuses in malls as you pass their doors. Every time we stepped into the hotel from outside, it was enough to gag me until I made it to the elevator. I’d love to slap whoever came up with that awful idea. Otherwise, I loved the hotel and it was an extremely comfortable place to lay down to die by cold.
On Sunday we wandered more areas of Dublin. We had known in advance that it would be our misfortune that the Trinity College Library (which is absolutely stunning – you should check pictures of it online) was closed for renovation and all of their collection had been moved into storage. Behind St Patrick’s Cathedral, which we did visit, is the noteworthy Marsh’s Library, which also turned out to be closed. We had lunch at the Stag’s Head (yep, another Head) and a couple of Irish coffees to ward off the chill.
On the last day, in the afternoon, we had finally come to the other side of the colds and decided to check off at least two items on our list. We got on a hop on-hop off bus, which we do in every city, so that we could get a crash course on the layout of the city. The tour bus driver was very funny as he entertained all of us in explaining what sights we were passing with stories of characters and we were able to go through a majority of the route before getting off for a meal.
The photo below is of one of the remaining original walls that surrounded Dublin City and built in the 12th century. Dublin was surrounded by a wall enclosing less than a square mile during the Middle Ages. These first fortifications were constructed of earth and wood to protect the settlement of Dyflinn, then a largely Viking town that developed along the south bank of the River Liffey. When the Anglo Normans’ took over the medieval city of Dublin in the early 1170s they strengthened its defenses by repairing the original wall and by constructing a new boundary to the south of the city. Only a few remnants of the old city walls now remain in Dublin.
We got off the bus on the north side of the Liffey river to catch dinner at a place called The Fish Stop. It is reportedly one of the treasures to be found off the beaten path and had the reputation for cooking the best fish in the city. It did not disappoint.
It is a small place with only a dozen bar stools and we managed to get a seat without a reservation, before the busiest hour. We shared a small salad, an oven baked sole and a fried Hake with chips. The sole was so tender, fresh and melted in your mouth. Did wonders for us, not only in the fact that it wasn’t another hotel room service food item, but in that we had gone OUTSIDE and felt grateful for our rebounded health.
After dinner, we treated ourselves to a favorite past time – we went to a cemetery. The Glasnevin Cemetery was a wonderfully huge, historic place with a majority of tombstones too worn to make out their dates. They are most famous for being the first cemetery to intern people of all faiths.
After poking about, we went to The John Kavanagh Pub otherwise known as the Gravediggers Pub since it sits on the cemetery property. The pub was established in 1833 and has been run by the Kavanagh family for 8 generations. It was a spot for folks returning from a funeral as well as a place the gravediggers came for a pint after work. It’s a great old local hangout and we had our last pint in Dublin there before returning to the hotel for the night. As we left and stopped at the bar to return our glasses, an elderly man turned to us and said in a thick Irish accent, ‘Oh, ye be the folks stayin’ at the Shelbourne.’ After affirming his statement, he added, ‘Well, goodnight to you then.’ Yep, small bar and local folks who know that you aren’t.
The next day was a major traveling day. We checked out of our hotel, took a flight to Paris, then took the Eurostar to London and the Underground to the Euston station. We have had a love affair with sleeper trains since the states. A double sleeper on the Amtrak, with private bathroom and shower was always our most luxurious train trips. Since moving overseas, we have tried two sleeper car trips so far but neither was very satisfactory. One trip had bunk beds (oh yeah, too old for that) and the other had an extremely lumpy mattress with pillows the size of face towels. But we were determined to try the Caledonian running from London Euston station to the Scotland Edinburgh Waverly station. There was no way to get on it in a more direct fashion other than returning to Paris from Dublin by air and then training to London’s St. Pancras Station from Lille on the Eurostar. Then as the Caledonian did not allow for boarding until 10:30 pm, we spent time in the comfortable and cozy St. Pancras Hotel Lounge and had dinner with wine. The St. Pancras is one of our favorite places to stay – it’s just far from the popular and theater areas.
The Euston Station is a quick Underground ride from St. Pancras however we were dragging on our last bits of energy by the time we got into our cabin. So beyond fatigued. G tells me that I was out before the train even left the station. He on the other hand, did not get a great sleep.
This third sleeper train has pretty much finished our fascination (at least until we take the Orient Express). The sheets had some hairs (not ours) and the shower was over the toilet, with not the best configuration. The bed took up the entire room and the one window was tiny. It did the job in that we weren’t forced to sit up in the passenger areas all night but G got an extremely poor night’s sleep. I, on the other hand, was so damn tired, you couldn’t have kept me awake if you tried with a pedal organ on the floor above our bed.
Arriving in Edinburgh, we disembarked at 8 am into an icy wet wind. It was part of a huge storm swath (Storm Babet) which would wreak havoc farther north in Aberdeen, forcing evacuations for the entire town. We took a taxi to the Hilton Edinburgh Carlton Hotel and commented to each other that we may have come to the point that travel was just too physically difficult for us, since we were still dragging. G had texted the hotel in advance, asking if an early check in was possible and we were shocked to discover that we could indeed have a room upon arrival at that predawn time. Additionally, we were being assisted by a wonderful reception “in training” young lady who was incredible. We’d thought perhaps an 11 am might be possible and we would park our luggage until then – but to get one at 8:30 am was just too wonderful. Traipsing up to the 8th floor, we were greeted with an abominable chemical smell emanating from our assigned room and a note on the door which indicated some work was being performed inside.
Back down to the lobby, we were thoroughly apologized to and reassigned a room on the 2nd floor. Settling into the room, we were resigned to the fact that workmen were heavily hammering in the room above us until G notice a steady water leak coming from the bathroom ceiling fixture. Back down to the lobby, another apology and we were assigned to a room on the 3rd floor. This one worked out (no chemicals, workmen or leaks) and there we stayed for the remainder of our trip. The room even had an upgrade – a larger room and a sleeper sofa ! – but the sofa was really quite sad and extremely uncomfortable, so we did not use it while there. Of course we did what we do best after unpacking – we slid straight into bed and napped for a couple of hours before going out for a meal.
After seeing the Hop On buses pass us by with their windows all fogged up from the contrast of the outside temperature to the inside temperature of the bus, we decided it would be a waste to take one. We chose a pub that served ribs and shared a plate of that before walking old town. At the National Museum of Scotland, we enjoyed a great view of the town and landscape from the terrace top.
We also eventually, over the next few days, walked L’Alba D’Oro (new town), High Street, Candlemaker’s row and the Royal Mile. There are alleyways in Edinburgh called “closes” that get you from one street to the next without going to the end of the block. Because of the need for security within its town walls against English attacks in past wars, Edinburgh experienced a pronounced density in housing. Closes tend to be narrow, many with steps, with tall buildings on both sides, giving them a canyon-like appearance and atmosphere. We took the steps up the Fleshmarket Close which connects Market Street with Cockburn Street and had several stops up catching our breath.
Between the crisp, clipped cold wind and the hilly streets, we came away with a new found respect for the Scottish heartiness. But the whiskies helped. It was also interesting to note that in Dublin, despite the heavy accents, we were able to understand everything we heard. In Scotland it was akin to trying to descipher French. Even if we just knew they were speaking English, the brogue is thicker than the infamous moors and makes it completely untranslatable. From the overheard conversations at the pubs to the people assisting you in shops, we were struggling to understand it without looking like utter idiots or even worse, as if we were insulting them. After all, if they could withstand that weather and those hills, these weren’t folks you’d wanted to tangle with.
We had been warned that Mary King’s Close was a terrible tourist trap, which we skipped but we enjoyed a peek at the Colonnades at Signet Library. Unfortunately peeking in was all we could manage as you aren’t allowed in unless you are taking in their high tea. Still it was a beautiful building, as was Giles Cathedral.
On Saturday, we walked the Princes Street Gardens where a protest was happening, passed the beautiful New College University of Edinburgh School of Divinity on our way up to Edinburgh Castle and later, we took in the vendor’s Grass Market, which was small but enjoyable. We sat outside and drank a pint at The Last Drop, a pub whose name is based on either the “last drop” or pint taken by prisoners executed at that spot or their “last drop” before falling through the trapdoor as they were hung. The market turned out to be much larger on Sunday. It was an unfounded hope that there would be a performance we could take in at the Edinburgh Festival Theatre, which holds ballet and opera events. The timing just wasn’t with us.
The winding streets with the well preserved Gothic and Neolithic architecture were incredibly charming and reminded us of why we love Lille so much. If the weather hadn’t been so bracingly cold. we’d have walked along Leith pier but having just gotten on the better side of our colds, we bypassed that as well.
We did manage to get a great meal at Howie’s on Victoria Street, which is known for it’s traditional Scottish fare. And lastly, in line with our favorite past time, we had a beer at the Greyfriar’s Cemetery pub which was busy and we were sitting next to a sketch artist just quietly sketching people in the pub. Just can’t pass up such a terrific hybrid; a cemetery and a pub. What’s not to love? Now, if it’d been called Greyfriar’s Head Cemetery Pub – that’d be an application I could totally understand.
The trip back to Paris from Edinburgh was not without mishap, but we have learned to be flexible. The flight was delayed two hours due to a crew illness, which made us miss our Paris to Lille train. We had friends staying at our apartment (R, P & S). whom we easily texted that we’d be delayed a day and we stayed the night at an airport hotel. It helped to refresh us the next morning for greeting our friends upon arrival around noon instead of sloughing in (dead tired) the night before, after midnight.
We dropped our bags and caught up on their news. We had not seen R & P in at least 5 years and had not met their cousin (S). They took us out to dinner to thank us for the use of our apartment and we heard all about the trip they had taken which included Ireland, Portugal, Spain and Italy. While using our place as a base, they took in Paris, Brussels and Ghent as well. The next day was their last here, so G took them on a tour of Lille, while I unpacked and started to put dinner together. After a good hearty meal and a few bottles of wine, we’d caught completely up on our stories and it was time to turn in. Big hugs, kisses and good wishes after we saw them off at the train station the next morning. And the morning after they left, the last of the wounds around my nose healed, dried skin falling off. Of course. Now that NOBODY is around, I no longer look like something from the Exorcist.
Then reality comes to call as I paid bills, started the ungodly amount of laundry, taking stock of the pantry while G went to the pharmacist and the grocery store. It was hard to believe that the month was over. We have to wait a month for our seasonal flu shots because of our colds and we need to get out our French language books in preparation of our tutoring, starting on the 6th.
Whether the age or the amount of laundry I forced into our machine, on it’s last load – day numbered three, it up and died. Repair guy is expected on the 4th. And the coffee maker, in sympathetic groans, has decided to strike as well. It’s all fun and giggles until you take G’s coffee away. Now THAT’S a scary Halloween if ever there was !
Lastly, we love this city we live in, Lille, and coming home is always pleasant. G’s photos below with crowds waiting to get on the metro for the rugby games, kids enjoying the rugby fun, people waiting in line for “New York Style” cookies, and the yesterday evening moon from our front door. Have a wonderful Thanksgiving and we’ll talk after!
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