Valentines In Vadrafjordr

It being a calm weekend around the apartment, we packed up and headed on a day-trip to the port-town of Waterford, about two hours to the east of Cork. It’s the oldest city in Ireland, dating from 914 AD when it was originally the Viking outpost of Vadrafjordr. Back then it sat on a projection of land between the River Suir to the north and swampy marshland to the east, of which the John’s River is all that now remains.

We first toured the Waterford Museum of Treasures where we experienced an encapsulated version of the city’s history given to us by two floors of displays and self-guided informational audio. Any number of historical articles of clothing and jewelry, parchments and furniture pieces were on display for us as well as a quite unexpected turn on a simulated Viking ship.

An illuminated manuscript.

Afterwards we took a stroll down the banks of the Suir where small personal motor and sail boats moored and where across the river we could see a large banner hanging on the side of a factory. Without words or logo, it was simply the large, pale face of a girl of about ten staring at us from across the water. Even though the day was warm and bright, it was a confusing and unsettling picture, and we still don’t know what it means. Strange way to advertise.

Farther down the promenade we found the local bandstand where we broke for lunch before touring Reginald’s Tower. A stout three-story stone construct sitting on the farthest corner of Waterford’s original projection, it served as an easy post from which the river could be watched and the port held. When it was first constructed by the Vikings it acted as part of the original walls surrounding the city, but with the walls all but completely gone, the Tower sits wedged between two modern buildings of comparable height and blends almost unnoticeably into the city line.

At the bandstand.

From here we decided to tour Christ Church Cathedral, which contains the tomb of James Rice (a somehow very important Waterford figure) as well as being host to the allied marriage of the native warrior Strongbow and the anglo-saxon princess Aoife. But unfortunately the Cathedral was closed, so instead we headed over to the People’s Park, a 16-acer plot of green situated by the city court house.

Perhaps just because it we’re still in on the edge of winter, or perhaps because of the park’s actual disrepair, it was a rather poor sight with the browned bushes and strange smell, but we took a turn around it anyway, posing for pictures on the adorning cannons and coming across an exercise platform where we stopped for a quick “workout” (consisting of us trying, and failing, to do chin-ups.)

Afterwards, quickly running out of ideas, we headed to a small gallery found on our map, which turned out to be even smaller than we expected. Just two rooms, the Garter Lane Arts Gallery is just two white rooms in an old townhouse hosting two modern local artists, all of whose works are on sale.

By this time Waterford had given us just about all we could find, the famous Waterford Crystal Factory already being closed due to bankruptcy, so we caught the next bus to Cork, saying goodbye to the suburban sprawl of Waterford.

The sky over People's Park.

Not Just a Poetic Form

Like Cork, Limerick is a river-city, sitting on the banks of the Shannon and its offspring, the Abbey. Long divided into English Town and Irish Town until the 1800s, when British soldiers finally removed the medieval town walls, the city stretches for about 20 kilometers along the Shannon, crosses the ancient divide of the two towns; the Abbey, and continues north.

It’s very much like Cork with a university of its own and a Saturday open-air market selling fruits and flowers and footwear, where we bought a pair of St. Bridget’s Crosses- reed-woven square constructs that reminds me of the palm-frond crosses we used to make at Calvary.

From the market we found our way to St. Mary’s Cathedral. Built in 1168, it’s the oldest building in Ireland still used for its intended purpose. The property is surrounded by city on all sides, as well as raised graves and family plots put into every corner. The interior is wide and spacious; the history surrounding you in busts of patrons and cardinals, plaques commemorating donations, and in the very pock marked white-washed walls and archways. But for all this, it is evidently still a very alive and active modern parish, with billboards and newsletters and service times to greet you as you walk in.


A stone archway commemorating a cathedral donor.

After taking a turn around the cathedral we headed farther down the Shannon to King John’s Castle and the last vestiges of the formidable stone wall the once surrounded Limerick. One large round turret greets you at first sight, flanked by the gleaming modern front of the visitor’s center. Once you walk through the “thrilling” and strangely oriented history of the castle, you can emerge into the courtyard, complete with fire pit, blacksmith booth, covered wagon, and even a real live hangman’s noose.


Certainly worth the photo opportunities.

The castle itself was a wonderful vantage point for the city. From along the wall we could see as far as the Muster Rugby Stadium while hundreds of feet below the Abbey rushed into the Shannon. The castle sits directly on the banks of the Abbey, stone wall plunging into the water. At high tide it is a spectacle.

We finished our tour of the castle with an underground view of the recently excavated entryway and wandered farther into the city to the Hunt Museum, a privet collection of artifacts from all periods of European history. It was a bright, clean place with each exhibit propped for the best view. There were drawers full of artifacts to examine and even special places where you could stick your hand in a feel the object before guessing what it was (not just for kids, considering the drawers were often at chest-level.)

By this time it was nearly 3 o’clock, so we settled into the Gallery restaurant and made ourselves PB&J sandwiches, all the while contemplating the dessert selection, which we eventually had to give in to.


My choice, Apple Crumb pie with creame.

Thus refreshed we retraced our steps back to the Limerick City Gallery of Art, a free public institution on the edge of the spacious and shaded People's Park, which surrounds Rice's Memorial; a large pillar of stone capped with a stature of the aforementioned Thomas Rice. We wandered the park for a bit, where my camera’s battery decided to give out, and then headed onto the museum. While the main exhibit was closed for a conference, we did see a collection by artist Clare Langan called “The Ice Above, The Fire Below, and Other Works,” which consisted of three videos, four to nine minuets in length, and eerily enhanced with chilling music. From there we found a second exhibition called “Into to Irish Drawing,” a hodgepodge of contemporary Irish artists, each with their own selection of pieces covering everything from old newspapers to charcoal silhouettes.

By the time we wandered back down to the main floor dark was already falling, and there being only a two block walk back to the bus station, we turned our way there. As we waited for our bus to pull up, I stood outside the station holding my reed-woven cross to keep it from getting crushed in my bag when an older Irish gentleman took note and struck up a conversation about how long it had been since he wove one of them himself. Ending his short story with a handshake and an ernest "Godbless ya," we were sent back to Cork.