The good life is ever changing

Yesterday was a Dublin day. I was on a mission too--not just the normal wandering around. I went to the Chester Beatty Library. I got off the bus (they raised the bus fare by 35 cents) at the Ha'Penny Bridge, crossed it, went through this really cool arch that I never went through before which takes you to this tiny street which looks like the Irish version of something out of a Dicken's novel--little eccentric clothes stores and food stalls with banners and flags hanging overhead--then you're in Temple Bar district. And then you're at Dame street. And then I passed by the entrance to the castle and the library twice before I gave in and crossed the street where the sign told me to. It just didn't look like anything over there. There's this great big huge gate that says "Dublin Castle Pedestrian Entrance" but there's no castle in sight. But this library is on the same grounds as the castle, so I walked through the smaller, person sized gap in the brick and there's a big parking lot with a small cathedral and a castle-looking round tower and a small square to the right. So I guess the story is that the government building that is now there is where the original Dublin castle was.
I went into the church. It's really pretty. Most of the stained glass is of coats of arms, and only the bit above the alter has religious scenes. There was nobody in there so I got to gawk and take pictures and just enjoy the silence as much as I wanted to.
To get to the library you have to go through another arch in this brick wall that leads to a field. There's a sign that says "No dogs No football on grass." It's a really nice park. There's a fountain over to one side, some old castle-y looking wall on the other. And then there's the library.
The "art book" display room is on the first floor and that's where I spent 100 of the 120 minutes I was there. It's not even that big of a room, but it's awesome. Chester Beatty was a book collector and he wasn't just interested in rare books or old books or certain genres or regional books. He seems to have something from everywhere. There is a page from The Book of the Dead, five copies of the Qur'an (on display--apparently he had way more), Chinese jade tablets, Japanese scrolls, etchings by Goya, Thai woodblocks. There were displays of how book binding has changed over the centuries--in Ethiopia they were in satchels, and the Parisian ones were really ornate. I thought it was really awesome. It was kind of random, but there was also this samurai armor and sword display.
The temporary exhibit right now is photography from a Scottish man who went all around China taking pictures of people in the 1870s. That was really cool. The photographs were so clear and big and all the descriptions were actually interesting instead of just giving a place and year.

I had a grand time.

I will miss Irish sunsets.

I'm not going anywhere next week. There was an issue with when my "program" is supposed to begin. Instead of saying that I'm here for a full academic year, I'm basically signed up for two separate semesters--as if I were just a first term student who doesn't have to stick around for exams, and then decided to come back. If this were the case, I wouldn't need to be here until orientation on the 25th. Which means that my financial aid wouldn't be disbursed until after that. Which means I'm kind of broke until then, unless Dawn at the registrars office can fix it for me, which she's trying to do, but those bastards at financial aid were unavailable when I was on the phone with her. We'll see I guess. I shant starve, don't worry. I've got lots of food still. My cabin fever might just be perpetuated.

I made baby lemon bars in jars today. I had a lemon that was getting soft, and a lemon bar is one of my favorite things in the world.
Pumpkin pie will be my next attempt at baking.

Oh yeah I finished that book. This one I read fast because I wanted to get it over with. I think it was stupid. Anne Tyler only gets one more shot. Although, some critic said this was "her best book yet!" We'll see...
Anyways now I'm on to The God of Small Things by Arundhati Roy. It's another English one, and so far much better.

Oh yeah again: I've been here for four months. Almost half way.