In a yellow house on sparkling Dublin Bay, I stay until I belong - Destinations

National Catholic Reporter, April 12, 2002 by Patty McCarty

Plenty o' progress

A block or two away a wrecking ball suspended from a crane seemed about to demolish a small church that had once been a part of a Franciscan convent, but a man told me, "It's just an auld building they're tearin' down. The church is being left. I think it's a listed buildin', ya' know."

An electrician heading to a job told me, "There's plenty o' progress."

Young businessmen in dark suits walk two by two along Idrone Terrace above the bay during lunch hour. A few young women in dark suits and chunky high heels walk along Main Street. Every third person is talking on a cell phone. Everyone has an umbrella. ATMs are everywhere, often with a string of young people in line. Lots of people smoke in Ireland -- two of the three people at the next table when I stopped for coffee and a scone.

Double-decker buses whip down Newtown Avenue and turn to cross Main Street and head into Dublin. At busy corners, stoplights click slowly as you wait and fast when it's time to cross. Otherwise, Blackrock would be a good place to get run down by Mazda or a BMW.

A postman rushed along Main Street with mailbags strapped to his bicycle. He ducked into a shop to leave mail and hurried on. He wore a New York baseball cap.

I walked a lot, took lots of photos. It was early July, and roses bloomed in every front yard. Like California with rain.

One of my favorite photos shows a tall, reserved man who played the accordion on Main Street. When I photographed him he was in front of Blackrock Center, which seemed to be just another storefront until I entered, and magically there appeared two stories of shops that included a sprawling supermarket called the Superquin, a flower shop, child care area, a book store, other stores and a luggage shop.

On Sunday I discovered Blackrock Market, a little alley off Main Street where I found lots of vendors offering all manner of stuff -- only on Saturday and Sunday. My find was a collection of hand-tinted and matted photo postcards from the turn of the century. One shows the church and one a steam locomotive chugging along the tracks where today's DART runs, not carrying commuters but Dublin day-trippers to and from the seaside.

A good place to find

I took the DART into Dublin twice. One just to see if I could find Trinity College, which is several blocks from Tara Station. Trinity is a good place to find. In addition to the ancient, beautifully illustrated Book of Kells, Trinity has a new, spacious visitors center with public restrooms and a place to pick up lunch. Across a busy street from Trinity's entrance a street vendor was selling jewelry, and an artist was sketching chalk pictures on canvas taped to the sidewalk.

Heading back to Tara Station, I got lost. I asked someone for directions, but he was also a tourist. A couple said, "That's where we're going. Come along." They were Rose and Owen MacHugh who had come by train from County Mayo on the west of the country. They had been shopping and Rose had bought a new coat. They had some time to spend so they decided to ride to Howth, at the north end of the DART line. I rode with them. My grandfather, Dan, one of the boys who made a hurried exit from the country, was from Mayo. Meeting Rose and Owen felt like finding some of my roots. The journey to Howth was quick. We got off there, the train turned around and we got back on and zipped back to Dublin. I said goodbye to the MacHughs and they headed for their cross-country train. I caught the DART south to Blackrock.