Passport control stopped the Belfast to Dublin express bus in the middle of nowhere. Three uniforms boarded; passports please! There was only one they couldn’t verify…. guess who!
I explained that Dublin was the only place I could vote in the New Zealand elections which were closing the next day, not that my vote made any difference in the end. Immigration leniency, or common sense, prevailed, but with just a three day stamp in my passport. My first stamp!
Arriving in Dublin, and with just three days, it seemed imperative to achieve quickly. The taxi driver was in despair over his very smart, competitive in sport, musical son who simply couldn’t be bothered to study, or even make sure he had the right workbooks etc for his school day. All this poor dad wanted was for the lad to complete school with a pass, so there would be a basis for some kind of future. He laughed at the prospect of one day being a grandfather and watching the same kind of despair in the next generation.
Before beginning exploring, that voting. Security is reasonably tight at the New Zealand embassy, with a voice entry request system, and glass doors which open by unseen hands. The voting process is strictly controlled so no bias or influence is possible, but tighter than home. How nice though to be speaking with someone who has a New Zealand accent and actually knows where Tasman is.
Voting complete, exploring started at Trinity College, with a tour. Our guide was dressed in over-length baggy trousers, large-buckled black belt, ill-fitting shirt, and gold-rimmed glasses threatening to slip off his nose. The short-back-and-sides haircut sported a curly black mop in front, as is trendy in 30 year old young men. Shiny black pointy lace-up shoes and a wide tie which didn’t reach his belt confirmed that here we had the mad professor, though later we learned he is a history major.
Trinity College; what a place! Some of the original New testaments in all their fragility and intricate design. Pause to consider how monks in different places and years apart hand wrote these enormous tombs in colourful pigments made from natural materials.
No back-space or white-out then!
The Long room at Trinity; centuries of books.
And the harp…
George Salmon, mathematician and theologian, is better known for his role as Trinity’s Provost, and particularly for stating that women would only be allowed to study at Trinity ‘over (his) dead body.’ One should be careful what you wish for… on the very day that the first woman passed the entry exam over in the main hall, George Salmon died. His funeral was held the same day, and he is buried in an area which is walked over by hundreds of students every day, including women.
On the college’s museum building, sculptures of the flowers of Ireland form a line right round the building. The extraordinary thing is that there are no repeats.
As I was crossing a courtyard, a dark green, very sleek, car pulled up at the steps of a building. A small group emerged from the top of the stairs, wearing the formal dress of College heights, or vip suits. With much formal handshaking, farewells were completed, and the single guest ushered quietly into his car, which glided slowly away.
And that probably sums up Trinity; energetic minds supported by a solid foundation of history, forward thinking, and respect.
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