FALLING IN LOVE WITH IRELAND 3 - GOLD, THE HIGH KINGS AND DUBLIN

In compiling these three posts, I once again became enthralled with mystical, fey Ireland--where they'll tell you they only have soft rain. Why I've never included it in my fiction puzzles me.

The country's complicated ancient history gives me the idea it was divided into provinces ruled by kings under a High King. Our tour saw the Hill of Tara, where the Irish kings lived until the twelfth century.

Dublin is the capital of The Republic of Ireland. My husband and I stumbled on the national museum there, with its incredible find of gold, silver and bronze pieces dating back to the first through the ninth centuries. Many were believed to have been used or worn by the High Kings. I was disappointed that some of the museum's photos of the gold weren't available to me, but here's a sampling of those that were.

Some of the treasures were uncovered by farmers tilling the soil. One group was found in a garbage dump. That's a lunula on the left. However, the ones I saw worn by the High Kings were magnificent, extending down from the throat almost like a breast plate over the chest, ending just above the pectoral muscles. You can imagine the wealth and power they symbolized as they gleamed under torchlight or beneath a brilliant sun.

On the left of the photo below, you'll see a portion of a torc--an open necklace about a thumb's thickness about the throat or as a bracelet on the upper arm. This group was found buried near the sea and thought at first to have been an offering to a goddess.

That's a gorget, below left. It's a fastener for sleeves or other articles of clothing. They were worn by those of important social status.

Dublin was a fascinating city divided by a river. People beg on the bridge, but we were warned they drive away nights in Mercedes, so we smiled without handing over money. We walked through the grounds of historic Trinity College, and our tour bus drove past the contemporary American Embassy, designed like a modest sized medieval castle. The drive down to it from the street mimics a moat. Minus the water, of course.

We had fish 'n chips--our first--on the second story of a fast food restaurant, looking down on the main street's meridian. A sculpture there of a woman in a tub has been irreverently tagged by locals as "The Floozie in the Jacuzzi." Imagine how wonderful that sounds in the Irish brogue.

I watched a middle-aged, well dressed woman wearing high heels do a dance routine on the meridian...over and over and over and over and... As a nurse, I became concerned for her. She was alone, and I was convinced she suffered from obsessive compulsive disorder and would dance herself to exhaustion. Finally, two police officers arrived who stood and spoke with her. Their posture seemed to indicate they knew her. When I'd finished eating, I saw to my great relief she and the officers were gone. I felt she'd received the help she needed.

I'd love to return to this country, where the North Sea batters the Ring of Kerry but they only have soft rain. I'd brave Blarney Castle to kiss the stone, see the medieval harp and view the Book of Kells in Trinity College, then I'd celebrate another ceili, eat Irish potatoes, and dance a jig with men half my age.

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Carolina Valdez
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