Today we said goodbye to the ship that had been our home for the last eight days.
Our adventure in Dublin began when we boarded the cab that would take us to the hotel.
The cab driver, true to the stereotype, was very colorfull.
His favorite word was “fock,” which loosely translated into English means, well, “f**k.”
He used the word a lot.
To quote a line from a movie, I would say “he worked in profanity like an artist works in oils,” but the only color he used was “fock.”
Not that any of us were offended. He used the word so naturally it didn’t seem like profanity. It was quite entertaining. Welcome to Dublin.
From the banality of Irish profanity we were elevated to the heights of art, history, and the Word of God in the Book of Kells, located at Trinity College. However, when we arrived we learned the letters of St. Patrick were not currently on display. Fock.
The Wife asked the security guard where Patrick’s letters were kept. He said they were at his home; he said he had taken them home for some bedside reading. Funny guy.
After the disappointment at the Book of Kells, all discipline among the GSB team broke down. It was the culmination of what had begun on Day 6, when they chose Nessie over Hugh Miller. I should have seen it coming. The gals all went to Grafton Street to shop, and I knew it was over. The quest for insight for Kingdom history that we can apply today, the search for Kingdom heroes who can provide a model for today, none of it mattered to them. All that mattered was, “Where is the Pandora store?”
The first stop was St. Patrick’s Cathedral. The cathedral is next to the park, which marks the location where Patrick baptized a local Celtic chieftain and the first Christians in Dublin. A plaque marks the spot. There has been a church here since the 5th century. As I mentioned in a previous post Patrick essentially walked all over Ireland making disciples.
Next I walked by Christ Church Cathedral, but there was no time to go inside and look around though. Plus, both St. Patrick Cathedral and Christ Church Cathedral charge an admission fee. They are, in effect, museums.
I then walked to Dublin Castle, and learned what all good Dubliner’s already knew—there is no castle at the Dublin Castle. It’s a long story. No big deal though, because I was here to see the Chester Beatty Library, which contains some of the oldest manuscripts of the Gospels and Paul’s letters from the New Testament, most dating from 150-200 A.D.
Lastly, I walked quickly toward the Guinness Storehouse to get there before they closed. From Stephen Mansfield’s book, The Search for God and Guinness, I hoped to find some insight into Arthur Guinness and his role in the advancement of the kingdom of God. To my great disappointment, there was no mention of God, or if there was, I missed it. The facility is impressive, but it’s a tribute to a brand as well as a colossal multimillion dollar advertisement. You pay twenty-five Euros to spend an hour allowing Guinness to develop brand loyalty with you and at the end you a rewarded with a pint of Guinness. On this one, I chose poorly.
It was nearly an hour walk back to the hotel, so I decided to give in and Uber. There were no Ubers available. I had no Euros, so I then asked seven taxi drivers who stopped if they took credit cards, but none of them did. I thought I was going to have to pawn my watch to get a focking taxi.
Finally, I gave up and began walking back. Halfway back I ran into the rebellious former members of the GSB team at St. Patrick’s Cathedral. They had apparently repented, turned from their shopping back to the quest, and had finally arrived at St. Patrick’s Cathedral.
When it was all done, I had walked 8 1/2 miles and more than 20,000 steps, not quite all of Ireland but much of Dublin. St. Patrick would have been proud. GS