Cork- Day 2

I emerged from my hotel this morning and, as I turned onto the street, a very strong gust of wind hit me in the face. An Atlantic storm was moving across the Northwest of Ireland, and Cork was feeling the outer edge. The sky was a milky white, but at least it wasn’t raining. I made my way across the Lee and into the city center. I wanted to see Red Abbey, the oldest surviving part of the medieval city walls. On a whim, however, I turned down a side street that I hadn’t explored yesterday. Of course, I got myself turned around, but eventually I came out near Holy Trinity Church, on the other branch of the Lee.  Because of the Penal Laws, there aren’t many Catholic church buildings that date to before the 1800’s. This church was another example of Neo-Gothic architecture. I went inside for a visit. As in most of the churches I visited, there were a good number of people inside at prayer.

On the way to Red Abbey

Coming out of the church, I had to check Google Maps to see where I was. I should have just used my eyes. Red Abbey was clearly visible on the hill across the river. I climbed up and found the tower in a little square. A good historical marker explained the nature of the tower. Additionally, a map of the area showed points of interest, one of which was St. Nicholas Church. I followed the indications but was disappointed when I reached the church. It has been deconsecrated and presently houses the Cork Probation Offices! So much for that idea. Now it was time for a proper visit to the English Market.

Cheese purveyor

This was probably a bad time to visit a food market. I hadn’t eaten breakfast; I just made a quick cup of coffee in my hotel room. I knew I wanted an early lunch and it was now almost 11:00, so I resolved to be firm until making a decision. The market is not vast, like some other covered markets, but it’s a good size. Butchers feature prominently - some specializing in pork, others in poultry. The fishmongers are probably the most photographed vendors in the hall. There is also a nice assortment of specialty stalls – cheese, bread, and other delicacies. My first stop was for coffee. After being outside in the wind, I needed something hot to warm me up. I ordered an “Americano”, dark roast. I’ll just say this. I’ll be very glad to get to Italy and have some real coffee.

The fishmonger across
from the sandwich stall

I wandered around a bit more until I reached a sandwich stall. The display case was enticingly laid out, and I fell victim. I selected a gorgeous ham and cheese on a baguette. I sat at the counter and began eating my sandwich. Then I decided I wanted some soup as well. The day’s special was carrot and ginger. I must say, that was a treat. It had just enough spice to warm the cockles of the heart. I should have asked for the recipe. In general, I can say that the soups in Ireland have been among the most outstanding dishes I have tasted.

Next on the agenda was the Crawford Art Gallery, Cork’s public art gallery and museum. The core of the museum building is Cork’s former customs house, which became an art school and eventually a museum. The remarkable thing is admission is free. I was particularly interested in a current exhibit, 

 

“The Naked Truth: The Nude in Irish Art”. I spent a few minutes looking at the plaster casts of classical sculpture and some other sculpture, obvious holdovers from the museum’s art school days. I then moved on to the special exhibit. I was surprised to see how extensive it was. It covered most of Ireland’s history, but the focus was definitely on the last two centuries. The show was very well curated and documented. My confrere, Fr. Beatus, who took his lead from Sir Kenneth Clark’s distinction between “naked” and “nude”, would have had ample opportunity to explain the difference. After this, I headed back to the hotel to rest up for the evening.

While planning any solo trip to a major city, I usually check the music and theater venues to see if there is anything of interest. I did so with Cork and discovered that there was an interesting performance scheduled for the Cork Opera house one of the nights that I was in town. I hemmed and hawed, but ultimately bought a ticket. Once I had the ticket, I then made a pre-theater dinner reservation for 5:30. The afternoon seemed to fly by and soon I was out the door on my way to dinner. My reservation was at a place called Cornstore, which got very good reviews on TripAdvisor and OpenTable.  The Early Bird Menu (yes, they still call it that) was reasonable at thirty-two Euros. I started with the roasted parsnip soup, followed by a piece of cod over pappardelle with mushroom sauce, and a honey and rosemary crème brulée. It was all very tasty and I was done in time for a leisurely walk to the opera house, a modern building that replaced a much-beloved structure that repl
burned down.

The performance was by the Abbey Players of Dublin’s Abbey Theatre. The show was called “Jimmy’s Hall” and it is an adaptation for the theater of a film script by Paul Laverty. If you’d like, you can read more about it here. https://www.abbeytheatre.ie/whats-on/jimmys-hall/

The performance includes a good deal of live music, both traditional and contemporary. As the audience filed in, the cast was already on the stage singing and playing.

The Opera House

Finally, the actual play began. I’ll be honest, I struggled with both my hearing and the accent. After the first ten minutes I was discouraged enough to consider leaving at intermission, then the first big dance scene came and I was sold. My auditory struggles continued, but I was getting enough information to follow the action, until it veered off into the internecine struggles of Ireland's post- civil war. No matter. I was thoroughly enjoying the performance. While definitely not a true “happy ending” drama (this is Ireland, after all), the finale is nothing short of rousing. I left the theater both exhilarated and challenged.

Jimmy's Hall

Both the Crawford show and Jimmy’s Hall made me acutely aware of the troubled relationship that contemporary Ireland has with both the Church as an institution and its own history. As I strolled back to the hotel, I stopped to look at the River Lee, which was now as calm as a sheet of glass. The lights of the city reflected like jewels on its surface. It had been a great day. As I walked by the bar on the way in, I thought, “Why not?” A little Jameson was the perfect end to this day.

The River Lee at night