Oscar Wilde and the Bog Men

We didn't have class on Friday, so Jackie, Amanda, and I took a walk into Dublin. The weather is chilly but beautiful this weekend! Finally a few days without rain!

Our first stop was Marrion Square to go to the Oscar Wilde House. For those of you who understand my love of Oscar Wilde, I'm sure you can imagine how excited I was. I was so incredibly pumped up for this. Imagine my horror when we got to his house (the place he was born and raised) only to find a sign that said "We're sorry, but we are no longer providing tours of the Oscar Wilde House. It is now privately owned by the American Irish University."Yes, Oscar Wilde's house has been taken over by a college for office space and we couldn't get inside. To make matters even more bitter, Boston University just so happens to be affiliated with the American Irish University through its masters program in Dublin. I really don't understand how one of Ireland's most famous writers doesn't even have his own house or museum tour. At least I got a picture with his famous statue on the Marrion Square corner of St. Stephen's Green.

We then made our way to the National Museum, specifically the Archaeology and History section. It's small by national museum standards, but I was still impressed by many of the artifacts on display. The most disturbing part of the exhibits, though, was the Bog Men. For those of you who aren't familiar with the Bog Men, they are the bodies found in peat bogs throughout Ireland. I think they date back somewhere around 1500-2000BC (I have to check on that), but they still have large portions of their skin and hair because of the way the peat environment preserves them. Their bones mostly decompose, but their skin becomes like leather. Their hair turns red because of the minerals in the ground, which again made this experience extremely humanizing and odd for me. I found most of the bodies fascinating but simultaneously disturbing, until we got to a specific one that I just found all around terrifying. This one is well known for having its hands perfectly in tact, fingernails and all. I came around the corner to find two human hands and a torso sitting in a glass case. Usually I'm not squeamish at all, but I got very sick to my stomach and extremely light headed. If you are planning a trip to Ireland and want to see the Bog Men, which in the end I am glad I saw, just prepare yourself mentally. It's nothing like looking at regular mummies.

While we were looking at the Tara Brooch we spotted a security guard and asked him for the whereabouts of the flag from the 1916 uprising. Apparently it's in a sepearate building. He recognized our accents instantly and proceeded to talk politics with us for nearly a half hour. Namely he expressed his fear about lack of gun control in the U.S. The police force in Ireland, the guarda, don't carry any kind of weapon. I've heard this comment from several Irish people now. He said he would never want to go to the U.S. for fear of getting shot by a cop, which we explained wasn't a typical day in the states. He was a nice old man, but it just goes to show that there truly is ignorance on all sides of the ocean. We have our stereotypes and oversimplifications of the Irish, and they have plenty of those for Americans as well. He kept talking until he looked down at his watch and suddenly said "You better run, they're closing the gates!"

So we ran through the National Museum until we were stopped by another old fellow who shouted "What are you still doing in here?!" We explained we were talking to a guard, at which he laughed, "Guard? Where do you think we are, England, Buckingham Palace?!" Apparently they don't use the term guard here. We ran to the gate where another little old man was about to lock us in! They really don't make any announcements or do any checks before they shut the place down.

That was my day. We went out again at night to Porterhouse, Church, and then Coppers. Porterhouse is fabulous, Church is terrible Eurotrash techno music (we left quickly), and Coppers (Copper-faced Jack's) has to be one of the best places in Dublin. I caught the cabbie driving us in circles on the way to Coppers, and I called him out on it when we stopped. He tried to put up a fight, but he clearly knew he was caught, so he lowered the price pretty quickly. I feel like I already have some idea of where I'm going in this city.

Today I'm doing homework, going to the library, and maybe going out for Tapas with Fenna and Rachel later in the evening.