Dublin's Heartbeat

by Lydia Stevens (United States of America)

I didn't expect to find Ireland

Traveling to Dublin, Ireland on my own in April 2018, I didn’t expect to find myself stranded on the corner of O’Connell Street and Abbey Street at the beginning the worst snowstorm Ireland has seen in over fifty years, the Beast from the East. Having arrived on one of the last flights which safely landed at Dublin International Airport, I made my way out into the frigid air to hop on a bus, which would be one of the last buses running to and from the airport for the next two days. Ireland isn’t accustomed to the snow. The airport spent over 5 million Euro in snow removal equipment for that storm alone. Being from Maine, the land of perpetual snow and ice, I was in my element. Three to six inches of snow was predicated, and I had the whole city to myself. It was completely shut down. A total of 18 taxi cabs patrolled the streets that weekend out of over 14,000 active cabbies. I was stranded but did what any born and bred New Englander would do. I dragged my suitcase four blocks to my hotel, grinning all the while as I took in the city where I never expected to find a sense of freedom and belonging, within the streets which appeared to be abandoned and forsaken. I graduated with a Bachelor’s Degree in Creative Writing and never been one for the spring break scene on a beach with a sun-kissed tan and a margarita in hand. I’ve often wondered why there’s a whole world to explore, and the go-to is the pool-side party scene. That scene was never me. I wanted to unravel secrets. I sought adventure. I needed to explore the mysteries of history. The trip was my gift to myself for years of dedication to my studies. I craved to touch the part of the city which made me feel so alive. What I found in the heart of Dublin was exactly what I was looking for. It was my adventures out walking the streets without a single soul in sight and finding the rare open museum such as the National Museum of Archaeology, Dublin Castle, and the National Leprechaun Museum which were the highlights of my trip. The Leprechaun Museum taught me, the little green man at the end of the rainbow with a pot of gold is a romanticized myth Americans have adopted. The true legends of the leprechaun are steeped both in light and dark lore. The history of Ireland and the people are as rife with violence and despair as there is beauty and hope within their mythology. I sat in a dark room hearing the tales of the changelings for the first time, children who have been stolen from their cribs and replaced with dark entities. I shivered, wondering what other misconceptions I held regarding the Irish myths. After emerging from the dark room and exploring the wonders of the Ór exhibit at the National Museum of Archaeology, I found there really is a pot of gold nestled on Kildare Street, were Ireland hosts its national treasures, and maybe my fantasies weren’t so far-fetched after all. The library at Trinity College was perhaps the greatest treasure I discovered. The Book of Kells, an 8th-century illuminated manuscript sits nestled in a protected case, and the display room then opens up into one of the most breath-taking sights I have ever witnessed, The Long Room. I didn’t expect to find such a wealth of knowledge and information so carefully preserved in one library. The view from the balcony is awe-inspiring, and beyond any price or riches in gold I could have imagined. I found the secrets and the history there in the library. My fingers itched to caress the covers of some of the greatest works of the written world. The adventures I were seeking had been just outside the door. I had traversed the streets looking for inspiration. I went to Dublin to find a cozy pub and enjoy the craic-filled streets. What I didn’t expect to find in the snow-filled, quiet pathways was the heart, the pulse of the city, and hear and connect with it’s driving beat.