Those of you who are unaware of the makeup of Ireland, that means we went to an entirely different country. Odd, yes?
You can tell a Dubliner accent straightaway if you ask them to say the number three. If you hear "tree," then you've got a local. Feel free to shoot them your questions on directions.
I suggest asking directions for Gino's Gelato. Rich, creamy, and not a bad price. My favorite, which they have since seemed to discontinue, is rum raisin. This past time, I got a side by side of muffin and pistaccio cookie.
Pistaccio is one of my favorite ice cream flavors, if not my favorite. However, I recently learned that there is not a speck of actual pistaccio in Blue Bell ice cream. It's almond flavoring. But what about the nut pieces, you say? Almonds. It's the ice cream of beautiful lies.
MOVING ON.
The day started with a trip to view the Book of Kells in the Trinity Library.
The book itself is a gorgeous illuminated (fancy word for illustrated) version of the Bible and so old you wonder how it made it's made it so long. It hasn't. Only half the book still exists now.
The book itself was lovely to look at, but it was the library that made me tingle.
The Belle in all of you just died a little bit.
I have nothing further to say on the subject. They say enough for themselves.
The rest of the day was spent between walking about doing silly things and staying out of trouble, in the National Gallery, and in the Chester Beatty Library.
The Chester Beatty Library is composed of the collections purchased by Sir Alfred Chester Beatty of the United States, otherwise known as the King of Copper.
A miner by trade, Sir Alfred made his fortune and bought up others' fortunes of books, eventually donating them all to Dublin, gaining an honorary citizenry during the same time period.
Without his bibliophilia, this century may not have even had the chance of discovering or seeing some of the oldest print versions of the New Testament and countless other artifacts from the western and eastern worlds alike.
I love what I do, this reading and studying of mine.
It may not be of any great or significant importance, but if I were a writer (and I am sometimes), I would like to know that somewhere out there, some person is "wasting their time" experiencing what I penned into life.
This library, this sort of cemetery for authors, is their living legacy.
They've died, but every time someone opens up one of their books, their voice is alive and well again in the pages as old as the story. At least these pages.
You lose that in electronic books, the history of the book itself.
People like Sir Alfred seem to get that.
Thank you for giving it back to us.
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