I Love Paris in the Springtime

I must have had a premonition yesterday, for why else would I have posted a picture of a vintage poster advertising a concert in Montmartre? I did do all the other things I planned to do, but in the morning, I found myself turning right on Rue Montorgueil and walking north to Montmartre.

I passed one of the few remaining Art Nouveau metro entrances on my way:

I was only ever in Montmartre once before, in December, and a thick mist obscured the view. Yesterday, by contrast, was warm and there were wonderful views.

By the time I got to the top of Montmartre, I had to take off two layers. It was so nice in the sunshine that I found a little park by the Sacre-Coeur and just sat there for half an hour, remembering what it feels like to have warm sun on your face.

You can see the beginnings of green on the trees and everything looks pretty and fresh. I can see why people get carried away about Paris in the Spring.

Making a Plan

Good morning from Paris! The sun is shining and the only decision I have to make is where to have my first croissant of the day.

Once that's done, I'm planning to spend the morning wandering through the Marais and the afternoon in the Musée de la Magie et des Automates. I will report back with pictures.

A bientot!

Starchitecture

Oh là là mes petits choux, this is my last Irish post for a while because tomorrow I will be celebrating La Saint Patrick in Paris!

But before I go to pack, let me tell you about the pilgrimage Máire Áine and I made on Saturday to see the best of Dublin’s most recent starchitecture. (This is my new favourite word – MA taught it to me. That’s what friends are for.)

We went down to the Docklands (doesn’t that sound like the beginning of a song?) to see all of the new building that was done before the Celtic Tiger suffered death and was buried.

The first starchitect featured is Santiago Calatrava. This is his second bridge over the Liffey. It’s meant to look like an Irish harp, but I saw a photo of a similar bridge in Rotterdam recently so I’m not sure I believe that Santiago had Irish harps in mind.

It is a pretty bridge, though.

The second piece of starchitecture is Daniel Liebeskind's theatre at the Grand Canal basin. This has actually grown on me a lot. The first view we had of it wasn’t promising:

But just walk round the other side and look!

These sparkling new creations definitely help to relieve the gloom of the post-boom. But I'm thinking it'll be a while before we get any more starchitecture for Dublin.

The Dead Centre of Dublin

Lately I have taken to haunting (oh, I’m so funny) the graveyard across the road. Glasnevin Cemetery is a bona fide national monument. We had to learn about it in History class – how its establishment in 1832 was a huge coup for the Emancipation movement (Catholic emancipation, not female). In a gesture of respect to the leader of the movement, Daniel O’Connell, a Rapunzel-style tower was built above his grave.

In O’Connell’s case, death rehabilitated his reputation following a sex scandal. This is a bit of a theme: the cemetery also has the grave of Charles Stewart Parnell, see above re. death, rehabilitation, sex, scandal.

The cemetery is huge. Parts of it are very shiny and new, other parts are like country fields where the grass grows ankle high, obscuring the names on the stones. The memorials range from the simplest wooden crosses to ornate stone mausoleums.

The whole place is being restored at the moment, but I don’t think they’ll ever be able to take from its haphazard charm. I like to wander along paths at random, stumbling across the odd half-hidden stone – and the odd national heroic figure. For it is here that many of Ireland’s national heroes are buried. Some of them have very simple epitaphs, others very over-the-top, like this one:

Michael Collins (by virtue of being A Very Special Revolutionary Hero and Cut Down in His Prime) has his own plot removed from the riff raff,

though, strangely, Eamon de Valera doesn’t:

De Valera’s grave is just off what I call Revolutionary Row, which has the greatest concentration of revolutionary figures. This is just a small selection:

I like the intimacy of this and the irony of the fact that many of these people couldn’t stand each other in life, but are forever associated in death.

Way at the other side of the cemetery, is the much less well-tended, grass-growing-high, stones-falling-over part (my favourite). This is what I’ve dubbed Rich People’s Circle:

The moat (for want of a better word) has doors with names above them. I assume these are family crypts. Rich People’s Circle features some of the most insane grave ornamentation in the whole graveyard.

No mention of Glasnevin Cemetery would be complete without reference to Kavanagh's Pub, also known as the Gravediggers.

This is a jewel of a pub - timeless, immortal, a great place for a pint (and now, I'm told, they serve tapas. ?!?!)

I love the peace of the cemetery. On a sunny day, it’s a beautiful place to walk and sit and listen.

Revolutionary Hero, Unlikely Lookalike

This has nothing to do with travel, but I wanted to share with you the amazing discovery I made yesterday. (And this blog is very much about the sharing of amazing discoveries.)

In the course of my research, I was watching documentary footage of Michael Collins (Irish revolutionary hero) and I thought, 'hey - he really reminds me of someone there. WHO? Who can it be?'

And then it came to me. Matthew Perry - better known as Chander Bing from Friends.

Almost twins.

Excitedly, I asked my little sister if I could forge a career by matching Irish revolutionary heroes with unlikely lookalikes. 'No', she answered, 'but there's definitely a website in it'.

KC Peaches

Yesterday I went into the city centre to do some research. The research was a bust, because despite going through boxes and boxes of papers, I couldn’t find what I was looking for.

HowEVER, the day was redeemed by two things.

1. My mode of transport. My love affair with Dublin Bikes continues and now I am the proud holder of an annual card. So yesterday morning, I walked 15 minutes to the Mater hospital, picked up a bike and cycled all the way to Pearse St. The sun shone, the sky was blue (and so was my bike), I rang my little bell and generally felt very pleased with life.

2. My lunch. I persuaded my lunch companion to meet me at KC Peaches which is in the Trinity Enterprise Centre on Pearse St, more or less at the edge of the known universe. Not very prepossessing from the outside (horrible red brick - the enterprise centre look, I suppose) but charming inside. We were a bit on the late side for lunch and there wasn’t much in the way of sandwiches left, but the salads looked great. The coffee was excellent,

as was the green-iced pecan-shortbread shamrock we shared.

So things could have been a lot worse, really.

A Sad Palm Tree

My Greek brother-in-law refused to move to Ireland on the grounds that he could only live somewhere with palm trees.

‘There are palm trees in Ireland’, his wife declared, indignantly.

‘Happy palm trees.’

Perhaps he was right. This is definitely not a happy palm tree: