Ireland (Lonely Planet, 9th Edition) - Fionn Davenport [52]
The first fusillade of transformation came during the Easter Rising of 1916, which caused considerable damage to the city centre. At first, Dubliners weren’t too enamoured of the rebels, who caused more chaos and disruption than most locals were willing to put up with, but they soon changed their tune when the leaders were callously executed – Dubliners are natural defenders of the underdog.
As the whole country lurched radically towards full-scale war with Britain, Dublin was, surprisingly, not part of the main theatre of events. In fact, although there was an increased military presence, the odd shooting in the capital and the blowing up of some notable buildings – such as the Custom House in 1921 – it was business as usual for much of the War of Independence. People went to work and socialised in pretty much the same way as when there wasn’t a war.
A year later, Ireland – minus its northern bit – was independent, but it then tumbled into the Civil War, which led to the burning of more notable buildings, this time the Four Courts in 1922. Ironically the war among the Irish was more brutal than the struggle for independence – O’Connell St became ‘sniper row’ and the violence left deep scars that are only today beginning to disappear.
When the new state finally started doing business, Dublin was an exhausted capital. Despite slow and steady improvements, the city – like the rest of Ireland – continued to be plagued by rising unemployment, high emigration rates and a general stagnation that hung about the place like an impenetrable cloud. Dubliners made the most of the little they had, but times were tough. Then, in the 1960s, a silver lining appeared in the shape of an economic boom: Dublin went suburban and began the outward expansion that continues unabated today.
A boom ain’t a miracle, however, and Dublin trudged along for another couple of decades with pretty much the same age-old problems (high unemployment, emigration) and some new ones (drug addiction, gangland criminality) before everything began to change in 1994 and a terrible beauty known as the Celtic Tiger was born. Fifteen years later, Dublin is a place transformed, a capital in more than name and a city that has finally taken its rightful place as one of the most vibrant in Europe.
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ORIENTATION
Greater Dublin sprawls around the arc of Dublin Bay, bounded to the north by the hills at Howth and to the south by the Dalkey headland. Small and compact, the city centre (which has traditionally been defined as within the boundaries of the Royal Canal, to the north, and the Grand Canal, to the south) has a clear focus and is a walker’s delight. It is split in two by the unremarkable River Liffey, which traditionally marks a psychological and social break between the affluent southside and the poorer northside.
South of the river, over O’Connell Bridge, is the Temple Bar area and the expanse of Trinity College. Nassau St, along the southern edge of the campus, and pedestrianised Grafton St are the main shopping streets. At the southern end of Grafton St is St Stephen’s Green. About 2km west, beside the river, is Heuston Station, one of the city’s two main train stations.
North of the Liffey are O’Connell St and, just off it, Henry St, the major shopping thoroughfares. Most of the northside’s B&Bs are on Gardiner St, which becomes rather