leaving the Blasket Islands

Great Blasket from above the ferry jetty

on my first trip to Ireland, my companions and I did a circuit of the Dingle Peninsula by car as I was taking them to Tralee to catch a bus to Dublin (on what turned out to be the Saturday at the heart of the Rose Festival; traffic was … interesting). one of my greatest regrets our self-imposed restrictions was that we only got a glimpse of the Blasket Islands as we zipped around Slea Head on what purported to be a two-lane road. (fortunately, almost everyone makes the drive in a clockwise direction.) my desire to visit the islands only grew as I continued my trip up the west coast, learning more about what happened to Irish farmers and families during the 19th century, and later in reading historical accounts of the last two centuries of Irish history – both fiction and non-fiction.

and so, when planning out our Dingle hike I knew I wanted to plan in a rest day to allow us time to take the ferry out to the island. armed with an approximate departure timetable for the fery, we started out at the heritage center which provided a pretty comprehensive look at life on the island, of linguistic heritage, animals and plant life, and the nature of the diaspora when the island was evacuated in 1953.

the islands were inhabited by small clusters of people for centuries, with the largest community on the Great Blasket (up to about 160 individuals). the islands saw an influx of residents from people fleeing the abominable policies of Lord Ventry (who owned much of the arable terrain on the mainland) during the Famine, though population declined in the 1840s all the same due to the effects of the Famine.

one of the single-family islands as seen from the main island

some of the smaller islands were home to single families and while in later years, particularly as the young emigrated and the remaining population aged, they relied on assistance from the mainland, their relative isolation and success as fishermen insulated them from the worst devastation of the Famine. the population didn’t begin to decline until the 20th century, when people hearing the success stories of those who had fled the Famine for America started leaving for better opportunities than a remote, island fishing community could offer. an outbreak of typhoid in the 1890s affected population as well. in the early 20th century, the government offered improvements, such as building a breakwater and new slipway; all the same, trips to and from the mainland still required adequate weather.

village on the Great Blasket from above

around the same time, cultural researchers became aware of the unique nature of the Blasket Islands – as an isolated community who’d defended their Gaelic language and heritage well in the face of efforts of the occupying English government to eradicate it from all of Ireland. (today, areas such as the Dingle Peninsula, Donegal and elsewhere Gaelic retains a strong presence are areas of governmentally-protected preservation called gaeltachts.) several researchers headed out to the islands to meet with inhabitants and to encourage them to share their stories for publication. quite a few took the opportunity, including Peig Sayers, who was actually born on the mainland (in Dun Choain) and married onto the island. her memoir Peig is one of the most well-known of the Gaelic Revival literature (it was certainly one of the easiest to find her book when looking for those Blasket narratives at a local bookshop after my first glimpse of the Blasket Islands in 2009).

ultimately, the exodus of young people took its toll on the island – while the island housed some 160 inhabitants in 1911, by the late 1940s only a few dozen people lived on the island (51, including infants, recorded in 1947). demands of subsistence living made further habitation of the islands untenable. trips to and from the mainland with necessities could only take place during good weather and the aging population increasingly could not keep up with the demands of island life; many abandoned the island in the decades prior to the final abandonment. eventually, the Irish government determined the islands must be evacuated and the last of the inhabitants left the island on 17 November 1953, relocating primarily elsewhere on the peninsula, as well as to America.

now, the islands are in a sort of limbo – not a national landmark but certainly not commercially owned. the highly informative interpretative center in Dun Choain provides an excellent overview of the history, culture, and life on the island, but a to fully appreciate the islands it’s worth the ferry trip (in good weather) out for a hike among the abandoned homes, up the mountain, and through the herd of remaining sheep (who, purportedly, are shorn once or twice a year and are otherwise left to their own devices).

(find additional information here: http://www.dingle-peninsula.ie/blaskets.html)

Knowth

on my first visit to Bru na Boinne, my budget-conscious self opted against the extra expense of adding Knowth to my ticket. probably for the best in the end as the weather turned dismally drizzly by the end of my hour on-site. Newgrange, with its impressively restored facade and amazing equinox illumination, certainly seems more impressive at a cursory glance, but now having seen both I stand equally, if not more, impressed with Knowth.

of the passage tombs in the area, Knowth is the largest, both in terms of its primary mound and because of the smaller satellite tombs that surround it. construction of the primary mound dates to sometime between 2500 and 2000 BCE, making it slightly younger than Newgrange. unlike Newgrange, however, the primary Knowth mound has two interior chambers accessed by passages from opposite sides of the mounds. the two chambers are mere feet from one another, but the passage does not extend all the way through the mound. also unlike at Newgrange, visitors aren’t allowed down the passages. because of its history, Knowth is not considered structurally safe enough to allow the average person access.

some speculate that, after falling into disuse, a layer of dirt from the top of the mound at Newgrange cascaded down over the entrance and decorated and decorative stones, preserving them and sealing the passage and tomb securely until farm laborers excavating for stone unearthed the entrance in 1699. (Charles Campbell, the man responsible for Newgrange, was part of Cromwell’s plantation plan and had leased the land from the government in England.) at Knowth as well, dirt covered the entrances and stones circling the mound at Knowth but whereas Newgrange went largely untouched in intervening centuries, all manner of people built atop the mound at Knowth. sometime during the Iron Age, it became a hill fort, beginning a period of long habitation. (those inhabitants must have found the passages as some of the stones sport graffiti in ogham symbols.) a branch of powerful early-Irish clan made their home around and atop the mound around 800 CE and several hundred years later the site came under the jurisdiction of the monks at Mellifont, who constructed a number of stone buildings on the site, which further affected the structural integrity of the interior passages. once the monks lost the land it was used as farmland for centuries, primarily for grazing, until being purchased by the Irish government in 1939 with early excavations beginning a few years later and a major one getting under way in the early 1960s.

the primary mound at Knowth is about 95 meters across at its widest point and is surrounded by 18 smaller mounds. a ring of 124 elaborately carved kerbstones — with artwork on both sides and some evidence they may have been appropriated from earlier sites based on carvings — circles the base of the main mound and represents the largest collection of neolithic art in Europe; they are remarkably well preserved because they remained covered by dirt for so many centuries. the passages are 40m (eastern) and 34m (western) in length and were constructed along an axis to align with sunrise and sunset on the equinoxes. excavations of the site began in the 1960s and took some 40 years to complete and took the mound down to its base. (Newgrange, on the other hand, hasn’t been dismantled as its interior has remained sealed since its construction. Dowth has yet to be excavated – I recall our guide saying something about leaving sites for future generations to investigate.)

Plessy in New Orleans

the American history courses I took in high school differed from others in the emphasis placed on the experience of blacks and other people of color (the section covering the 20th century that I opted for was titled “African American Experience,” whereas the option most of school took was titled “American Experience”). however, while we spent quite a bit of time discussing various pieces of landmark legislation pertaining to social justice and racial equality, I was surprised to (re)discover Plessy’s link to New Orleans while exploring the exhibits of the Cabildo.

Homer Plessy was born to French-speaking Creole parents just before the outbreak of the Civil War and just after General Benjamin Butler’s troops occupied the city and liberated enslaved African Americans. his paternal grandfather, a white Frenchman from Bordeaux, arrived in New Orleans after leaving Haiti in the wake the rebellion that liberated the nation from Napoleon’s France. after his father’s death in 1869, his mother married a clerk at the U.S. Post Office who supplemented his income as a shoemaker. Plessy followed his stepfather into the shoe business, and also worked as a clerk and insurance agent, according to city records.

during the period of occupation and Reconstruction in which Plessy grew up, blacks in the city enjoyed a degree of freedom unheard of in the rest of the South – marrying freely and attending integrated schools (briefly), among other rights. in 1873, his stepfather signed on to the Unification Movement which sought to establish equality in Louisiana (which had a more laissez-faire attitude about racial segregation from its early years as something of a remote backwater up until it became a state and its liberality conflicted with laws of neighboring states.) once federal troops withdrew from the city by the order of President Hayes in 1877, however, rights hitherto enjoyed by most and any prospect for a racially egalitarian society vanished.

from a young age, Plessy displayed political and social conscious; he served as a leader in an education reform movement and, ultimately, joined a mixed-race civil rights group called the Comite de Cityones. not unlike the Montgomery Improvement Association, the Comite orchestrated the events that culminated in the landmark Plessy v. Ferguson case. as with the Montgomery boycott some six decades later, Plessy’s appearance contributed to the plan — as one scholar noted, he was white enough to gain access to the location where he was black enough to get arrested. on June 7, 1892, he bought a first-class ticket on train between New Orleans and Covington and took a seat in the “whites-only” car. when asked for his ticket Plessy stated that, as a person 7/8 white, he did not want to sit in the “blacks-only” car. he was arrested immediately, held overnight on $500 bond and tried a month later for the offense.

the trial – before Judge John Howard Ferguson – took place in one of the second floor rooms of the Cabildo and Plessy’s case rested on the argument that the law that resulted in his arrest violated his rights under the recently-passed Thirteenth and Fourteenth Amendments. Ferguson disagreed based on the contention that the state could set rules for railroad business that took place within its borders. the State Supreme Court upheld Ferguson’s ruling and refused to rehear the case but allowed for a petition for writ of error, which allowed the case to progress to the United States Supreme Court.

in 1896, the U.S. Supreme Court heard and ruled on the case, the majority opinion laying out the doctrine of “separate but equal” that permitted states to segregate with federal permission until struck down by the Brown v. Board decision of 1954. (one Justice – John Marshall Harlan of Kentucky – dissented on the grounds that the Louisiana law was inconsistent with the liberty citizens and was hostile to both the spirit and letter of the U.S. Constitution. his position on this and other cases dealing with racial segregation earned him the nickname “the Great Dissenter.”)

following the Court’s decision, Plessy pleaded guilty and paid the levied fine in January of 1897. he returned to his life – became a father, remained active in his church and community, sold insurance — and died at in 1925. he was interred in his family’s tomb at the St. Louis Cemetery #1; our group vied with three or four others to see the site and to discuss his importance to the city and American history. it wasn’t a long discussion, more a kind of shorthand — you all have heard of Plessy, right? this one is his family tomb. I’ve learned more about his life in writing this post, but seeing the family tomb and site of the trial spurred me into researching his life.

the Cabildo

until our trip to New Orleans, all of our Pi Phi Homecoming destinations took us places one of us did or had lived. consequently, I hadn’t much context into which I might fit excitement, anticipation, or plans for must-see sites. (beyond beignets. we knew beignets were #1 on our list of everything.) although generally I anxiously and enthusiastically plan out which historical or otherwise noteworthy places I want to visit, this trip saw me picking a guidebook up from the library on a whim mere days before the trip.

ultimately, that plan worked out pretty well. Gabrielle had visited the city before and knew enough about what to check out to give us a template to structure our weekend on, and the “top sights” provided us with the rest. as a result, I knew little of what to expect when suggesting we check out the Cabildo beyond the (in hindsight) vague blurb in the guidebook. a delightful and detailed tour through the city’s history through Reconstruction in one of its most historic buildings.

the Cabildo and its architectural twin, the Presbytere, buttress the St. Louis Cathedral on the northwestern edge of Jackson Square. fire destroyed the original structure in in the Great New Orleans Fire of 1788 and the present building went up between 1795 and 1799 to serve as the seat of Spanish governance for the territory. that role didn’t last long – the Louisiana Purchase transfer occurred in the Cabildo in 1803 and thereafter served as City Hall until 1853, as well as home to the territorial superior court (1803-1812). it also hosted notable visitors to the city, including the Marquis de Lafayette, who was granted use of the Sala Capitular during his stay. from 1868 to 1910 it served as State Supreme Court, where landmark cases such as Plessy v. Ferguson were adjudicated.

despite housing the Supreme Court, by the late 19th century the building had fallen into significant disrepair and was poised for demolition. artist William Woodward (known for impressionist paintings of the city and Gulf Coast) led a successful campaign to save and preserve the building. in 1908 ownership transferred to the Louisiana State Museum, which opened it to the public with historical exhibits shortly thereafter. it was added to the National Register of Historic Places in 1960 and underwent extensive restoration in the early 1990s following a fire in 1988 that destroyed the cupola and most of the third floor. it came through Katrina with relatively minor damage and served as temporary offices for Louisiana State Police as they patrolled the streets in the aftermath of the disaster. today the Friends of Cabildo run tours of the Vieux Carre, and the site hosts yoga in the second floor gallery that overlooks Jackson Square on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays. (it sounded like fun … but we opted for a ride on the St. Charles streetcar, a long walk to Audubon Park, and run around the lake.)

beignets at Cafe Beignet in Royal St

two days in New Orleans naturally meant two days of beignets. our second tasting took us to Cafe Beignet in Royal Street. our guide book claimed there’s a heated debate as to which tourist cafe has the better beignets — this one or the Cafe du Monde we’d visited the day earlier.

it sits deeper into the French Quarter, rather than plopped next to the Mississippi River across from Lafayette Square, and benefits from it. the cafe has a bright but subterranean feel, which contrasted interestingly with the open-air, wall-less atmosphere of the previous day. we opted to take our beignets in the courtyard, shared by the police station next door. (in truth, while the courtyard was clearly designed for use by the cafe customers I wasn’t convinced we weren’t, technically, on city property.) we arrived in the mid-afternoon, meeting up for a cemetery tour schedule to depart from the sidewalk out side the cafe, but opted to work up an appetite on our walking tour before enjoying the slightly-less-powder-covered fried treat. while I can’t speak to the quality of the coffee, the iced tea was quite tasty — and a welcome option. the workers at this establishment seemed much less world-weary and notably more competent; perhaps a question of scale but certainly welcome. leaving this place, I was nigh-tempted to buy a box of their beignet mix; not so at the other place or when I saw offerings in gift shops along Royal Street. I may not have any kitchen appliance designed for frying, but I’m adventurous enough to try it out on my own, so long as I can find a good recipe when inspired.

while many cultures have variations of fried fritters, beignets came to New Orleans from France in the 18th century. (some believe the Ursuline nuns may have brought the recipe, though there isn’t evidence to substantiate the claim.) they became a staple of Creole cuisine, generally sweet though sometimes savory, and in 1986 were declared the official state doughnut of Louisiana.

Hawthorne Bridge

I hadn’t really any idea of what to expect from Portland, apart from the notion that it was “kind of like” Seattle and the depiction of Portlandia might not be entirely off-base. I certainly didn’t know that the Willamette River bisects the city which is traversed by a series of bridges, including the vertical-lift truss bridge joining Hawthorne Blvd and Madison St.

the Hawthorne Bridge is the oldest vertical-lift in the country (opening in 1910) and one of the busiest cycling ant transit bridges in the state of Oregon. it carries approximately in the fall of 2012, a cyclist counter was installed to track usage and some twenty percent of the traffic on the Hawthorne Bridge comes from cyclists. it was the first counter of its kind installed on a bridge in the United States. coming in from the airport, I was a bit surprised to see pedestrians on the Morrison Bridge (to the north of the Hawthorne Bridge) — we’d just exited an interstate highway which, where we live, would have pretty adamantly deterred cyclists or anyone on foot from venturing across — but in a city that has such a demonstrably friendly non-auto atmosphere it shouldn’t have. next time we’re staying downtown, I’m game for a run along the riverfront and over the bridges.

the bridge was designed by the firm of Waddell & Harrington in the late 1900s to replace the Madison Bridges Nos 1 & 2, which were destroyed by fire in 1902. Waddell studied at Rensselaer Polytechnic in the late 1800s and spent time as an engineering consultant for the Empire of Japan before returning to the U.S. to design a series of remarkable lifting and swinging bridges. though both designs were used in the country prior to the 1880s, Waddell’s design (first proposed to span a channel in Duluth) revolutionized and popularized the design. despite (or perhaps because of) its unconventional design, it took several years and, ultimately, a partnership with John Harrington for Waddell’s design to catch on and go up across the country (the first of his design went up in Chicago on South Halstead). counterweights of 880,000 pounds are used to raise and lower the bridge some 200 times a month. it’s named after the boulevard which, in turn, is named for James Hawthorne, an early proponent of the Morrison Bridge and co-founder of the state’s first mental hospital.

Tom Crean & the South Pole Inn

during our lunch in Inch, the guy serving our lunch asked about our plans (our packs may have tipped him off to our hiking) and, upon learning we would spend the night in Annascaul, recommended a pub with good food, beer, and craic in the main road. that pub was the South Pole Inn, once owned by Antarctic explorer and native son Tom Crean.

Crean was born in a farming hamlet near Annascaul in 1877, Crean enlisted in the Royal Navy a handful of days before his sixteenth birthday at the nearby Minard Inlet (site of the castle of the same name). within six years he’d risen from “boy second class” to “petty officer, second class.” in 1900 he was posted to a ship in the New Zealand Squadron and a year later, when Robert Scott’s Discovery expedition required a replacement for an able seaman who deserted, Crean volunteered. he distinguished himself during the expedition, receiving praise from the ship’s second mate and fellow seamen. when the Discovery became locked in ice in 1902, and efforts to extricate the ship the following summer failed, Crean remained behind in the Antarctic until the ship was freed in February 1904. upon returning to civilization, Crean received a promotion to petty officer, first class, at Scott’s recommendation, and returned to regular duty (and eventually torpedo school) in England. Scott eventually requested Crean join his crew and the latter followed the former through a series of ships and posts.

Crean was one of Scott’s first selections when organizing his crew for the ill-fated Terra Nova Expedition. Crean accompanied Scott much of the way to the South Pole, but was ordered to turn back, along with two other men, while Scott and several others continued on towards the Pole. Crean’s group barely returned safely, but Scott’s group did not return at all.

in 1913, Crean received a Polar Medal (as did all surviving members of the expedition) and an Albert Medal (for his part in saving the life of Edward Evans after parting ways with Scott’s group), bestowed by the King in a ceremony at Buckingham Palace.

a year later, Crean joined Ernest Shackleton’s Imperial Transantarctic Expedition as second mate, picking up all manner of duties including responsibility of one of the dog teams when the hired Canadian wrangler failed to show up. when the Endurance was trapped and eventually sunk by pack ice, Crean helped navigate lifeboats carrying the surviving crew in lifeboats to Elephant Island. he carried on with Shackleton with a team of eight set off for South Georgia to orchestrate a rescue operation. after successfully completing the 800-nautical-mile journey, Shackleton, Crean, and another man (Worsley), were forced to trek 30 statue miles across the glaciated island on foot as the rudder of their reinforced lifeboat had broken off when landing on the island. they made it and, after three attempts, Shackleton rescued the men stranded on Elephant Island.

Crean returned to England in 1916, and received a third Polar Medal for his service on the Endurance. he married an Annascaul woman in 1917 and spent most of the First World War stationed in Chatham barracks and later on a depot ship in Ireland. in 1920, Shackleton invited him to join another Antarctic expedition but, having settled down and recently welcomed a second daughter, Crean declined. he was retired from the navy on medical grounds, following a fall that effected his vision. he and his wife, Ellen, returned to Annascaul and opened the South Pole Inn. they ran the public house together until Crean suffered a burst appendix in 1938 and, following a delay in having it removed due to difficulty finding a doctor (he was first taken to Tralee and then later on to Cork as no surgeon was available in Tralee), died of an resulting infection, aged 61.

today, the South Pole Inn is a bustling local pub with live music on the patio during warm months, serving typical Irish fare and a lager from the Dingle Brewing Company named in Crean’s honor. a statue of Crean stands in the park across the street, erected in 2003.

Old U.S. Mint

the Mint in New Orleans is the only one in the United States to have produced coinage for both the United and Confederate States of America. the strategic location of the city, its bustling port, and sizable antebellum population made it a desirable location for a mint. in the 1830s, Andrew Jackson established several mints throughout the south, including the one in New Orleans, because he felt the Second Bank of the United States (the recharter of which he vetoed in 1832) benefited northeastern businessmen at the expense of common frontiersmen. combined with the effects of some of Jackson’s presidential acts and fiscal policy, by the end of the 1830s, the need for minted money necessitated additional mints. the red brick building was designed by William Strickland (who also designed the mints in Philadelphia, Charlotte, NC, and Dahlonega, GA) went up in 1835 and began making coins in 1838.

the New Orleans mint quickly became one of the most important in the country. its location made it convenient both to Mexican or and recently discovered gold mines in Alabama. while the Philadelphia mint produced more coinage, New Orleans could distribute its output much faster, particularly to the rapidly growing southern and western states and territories.

prior to Louisiana’s secession from the Union, the mint produced numerous denominations of coin, all from silver or gold. once the building and assets were seized by the Confederacy, operations were turned over to making Confederate half-dollars of the remaining gold bullion. once the bullion ran out, the building served to quarter Confederate troops until the Union occupied the city in 1862.

the Union flag raised above the mint after the city was captured resulted in a notable scandal. a professional gambler named William Mumford and several other people defied Marine orders to leave the flag alone, and entered the mint to rip the flag down, tearing it apart and stuffing bits into his shirt to save as souvenirs. the commander of U.S. forces in Louisiana, Benjamin Butler, arrested and charged with high crimes and misdemeanors. he was tried and convicted by a military tribunal in May of 1862 and was executed by hanging in the courtyard of the mint.

after the Civil War, the building was used as an assay office from 1876-79, during which time it was refurbished and damaged minting machinery was replaced. it continued to make coins until 1909. the mint was then decommissioned, much to the chagrin of then-governor Huey Long, and the machinery sent to the one in Philadelphia. responsibility of the building was transferred to the state in 1965 after serving as an assay office, federal prison, Coast Guard storage facility. it was refurbished and turned into a museum, in which capacity it has served since the 1960s. damage from Katrina closed the museum for two years and now showcases rotating exhibits and the Louisiana Historical Center and the Jazz National Historic Park hosts concerts periodically.

beignets at Cafe du Monde

consumption of beignets sat squarely atop our list of tourist-musts for our New Orleans adventure. our very first stop on Friday morning, after a breezy but pleasant walk from our hotel next to the convention center into the French Quarter, was the Cafe du Monde – perhaps the best known source of beignets in the city.

situated diagonally across the street from Jackson Square, Cafe du Monde has operated since the 1860s, originally a part of the French Market. capitalizing on the popularity of their signature treat, at one time Cafe du Monde locations ranged all over Louisiana and as far away as Atlanta. today, there are just under a dozen locations around the greater New Orleans area. the French Market cafe is open 24 hours a day year round, with the exception of Christmas day and whenever hurricanes threaten enough to necessitate closure. the cafe closed on August 27, 2005, in advance of Katrina and, though the venue was only slightly damaged by the storm, the property owners took two months following the storm to refurbish the cafe while visitor numbers were down.

we arrived about 10:00 a.m. on a Friday to stand in line. while the line moved quickly, getting us under the awning in about 10 or 15 minutes, the same couldn’t be said for getting our tasty fried treats and chicory-flavored cafe au lait. when the beignets arrived, they proved mostly worth the wait, though by the end of my order they seemed to be losing a crucial degree of their warmth, if not their tasty, fried (and sugar-drenched) sweetness. not the best beignets I had on our trip, but still mighty tasty.

Guinness Storehouse

as a fan of craft brews, and living less than 10 miles from one of the most popular microbreweries in the state, I’ve taken a brewery tour or two (or dozen) over the years. from DIY affairs, to ones where the brewmaster takes you back among the tanks to explain the finer scientific points of beer brewing, to very limited, controlled situations where the script never deviates from the one all “tour guides” are compelled to memorize, the experience at the Guinness Storehouse is just that — an Experience.

with annual sales topping more than 1.8 billion U.S. pints, it shouldn’t have surprised me how thoroughly and expertly produced the “tour” at St. James’ might prove. in the dozen years since the Storehouse opened as a self-guided tour and attraction, over four million people have visited. the site, St. James’ Gate, was initially leased to Arthur Guinness in 1759 for the amount of 45 GBP each year for the duration of 9,000-year lease. (the company has since expanded outside its initial footprint and ultimately bought the land outright. a copy of that original lease is displayed under glass in the floor of the atrium.

the building that houses the Storehouse was constructed in 1902 as a fermentation plant for the brewery. it served as this capacity until a new fermentation plant was built along the River Liffey in 1988. the attraction is laid out over seven floors in what was, at the time it was built, the largest steel-framed structure in Ireland. the atrium is rather cornily designed to resemble the shape of a pint glass. the first floor introduces visitors to the four ingredients of beer – water, barley, hops, and yeast — and the general brewing process. after years of intimate and in-depth tours of craft and microbreweries, the polish of production surprised me a bit with projections of boiling tubs of wort and ovens of roasting barley, but seemed expertly and deftly done. you can’t actually see Guinness being brewed anywhere along the tour, but you can see the buildings at which various steps of the process take place! on the whole, the exhibits presenting other information interested us more. we saw examples of their famous marketing campaigns – My goodness! My Guinness! – Guinness advertisements on television throughout the decades (with cheesily appointed rooms identifiable by decade),  the famous harp seen in the logo encased in glass at the top of one escalator.

the most interesting part, by a stretch, however, was the exhibit on the cooperage. at the height of barrel production (for transporting the black stuff) in the 20th century, Guinness employed hundreds of coopers. within a few decades, as aluminum kegs came into use after 1946, the number dropped precipitously — from some 300 in the war years to 70 in 1961. the last wooden cask was filled at St. James’ Gate in 1963. the exhibit featured all the tools of the trade, as well as fascinating footage from the 1930s or so of men at work – clearly decked out in their Sunday best to show off their work to the camera – working through the entire process of making a barrel. after that exhibit it was mostly down to figuring out where we’d like to enjoy our “complimentary” pint of Guinness. (we opted for the Gravity Bar at the top of the “pint glass” with panoramic views of the city.)

I had absolutely no idea of this: according to Wikipedia, St. James’ Gate traditionally served as the starting point for Irish peregrinos heading to Santiago de Compostela. they could get their credencials stamped in the brewery before catching a boat to Spain; the nearby church will still stamp them for you.