Is Dublin the World’s Most Walkable City?

For exactly a century, Dublin was perhaps the most famous walkable city in the world, from a literary point of view. In 1922, James Joyce published UlyssesThe masterpiece of modernism, the complete overhaul of the novel form, The best unread book of all time, etc. But when it comes to its essence, the novel becomes the story of a the man, Leopold Bloom, an advertising agent, who on June 16 walked the streets of Dublin from morning until night.

Joyce fans still follow Bloom’s adventures, from 7 Eccles Street across the city and finally back home once more. You can follow the route without difficulty because while a massive herd of construction cranes now dominates Dublin’s modern skyline, the heart of the old city, the city existed in 1904, when the Ulysses set, centuries ago, is still visible and quite alive.

You can join one of the guided walking tours built around Ulysses, or just walk the path of Bloom one by one (what I did). The novel itself is a kind of guidebook: Joyce brags that he has included so many details about the city in his novel that if the city is destroyed, it can be rebuilt using Use the book as a blueprint. His fans are his allies in this regard: when the Bloom’s Eccles Street restaurant was razed in the ’60s, the front door, complete with knockers, was preserved and now sits ​​in James Joyce Center.

Joyce created a thriving cottage industry in the city, which he strives to immortalize. Any bookstore sells it Ulysses, and sometimes even newsstands sell it. There are a number of Joyce-related tours around the city, and Joyce’s face appears in murals around town, and when the Irish have their own money, they take Joyce – along with WB Yeats and Jonathan Swift – on sticky notes. There is, of course, the much-needed public statue, nicknamed “the thorn with the stick” by locals. It was a pleasant surprise for an American traveler to set foot in a country where authors are respected, even if not revered, and not necessarily read. But that’s okay. I would happily embrace a country that even merely honors its great writers.

In the episode of Simpsons while they’re on vacation in Ireland, Lisa notices it’s June 16 and says, “Oh, that must be Bloomsday. Every June 16, James Joyce lovers will follow the path Leopold Bloom has taken in the novel. Ulysses. ”

Bart replied, “What you’re saying is, we’ve run out of fun things to do.”

That’s a bit harsh (but funny – Joyce probably thinks so too, being one of our funniest great writers: when a fan approached him and asked to kiss the hand he wrote. UlyssesJoyce condescended, saying, “It also accomplished a lot of other things.”)

But a lot of people besides Bart Simpson come to Dublin in search of something beyond the literary line. And that’s okay, because even stripped of its substantial literary line, Dublin doesn’t disappoint. The person who once described Ireland in general and Dublin in particular as an amusement park with no rides got into something.

In other words, Walkable Dublin isn’t quite a Joycean yard. There are also the usual history tours, pub tours (oh there are pub tours), and even a tour that takes you around town on a converted city bus. converted so you are served tea while enjoying the view.

There are also food tours available. I have attended Food on the feet on an April morning that in a three-hour period saw sun, rain, and hail not once but twice. The tour is for street food, or more precisely, take away. Among other offerings, our crowd sampled the deluxe cheeseburger; fish and chips by Leo Burdock’s, which claims to be the city’s first chip shop (estimated 1913); and probably the best ice cream cone I’ve ever eaten, courtesy of Murphy’s, a small chain with about half a dozen dealers across the country. They let you sample all you want before making your final choice, but that just makes it harder for you to choose. Start with Dingle Sea Salt, Irish Brown Bread, or Chocolate Whiskey (yes, those are the flavors) and go from there.

There’s also a stop at a decent pizzeria, which can be a useful place to know when you need some wine at the end of a long night, but although I’m not speaking for all travellers, I would bet that at least Americans don’t want to go abroad and eat the same food they normally eat at home. (Or maybe they do. Fifty years ago, there was a restaurant on Grafton Street that offered American fare on cheese-milkshakes. It’s still going strong.)

Food on Foot’s website recommends acting hungry, and they’re not kidding. You’ll do a lot on this tour and burn some serious calories, but you also start eating around 11 a.m. and then you’ll sleep pretty steadily for the next two to three hours. An empty stomach will help.

Kevin Adams, your guide, enjoys talking while you eat, and he’s a knowledgeable native with a knack for storytelling and an affable love for the city he’s describing to you. . But stand close while he is talking. The sound of the city is not always easy to hear.

Alex Guevara

The tour starts at the neighborhood called Liberties, where the Guinness brewery is located, and works towards downtown. It’s an old and somewhat shabby part of town, though not without the evil fairy’s kiss of enchantment here and there. Liberty dates back to the arrival of the Normans in the 12th century, and the name derives from ancient jurisdictional struggles over who controls who. The neighborhood is now a dense mix of schools, markets, residential areas, some industry (mainly breweries), and lots of small businesses, but the history goes on. overate. At one point, a rock wall solid but taller than a person – a fragment of the old citadel – juts out into the street, a reminder to pedestrians that they are making history at every turn. It’s a literal thing, this Dublin landscape.

City walkability cannot be quantified or systematized. But there are certain basic expectations. It takes green space to break up the blocks of buildings, and here Dublin shines, with an abundant supply of parks both large (Phoenix Park, St. Stephens’ Green) and small (Dublin has may not have invented the pocket park, but it received them warmly). Ideally, there’s water (Liffey, with its varied chain of footbridges, runs right through the city centre, in front of Dublin Bay and the Irish Sea).

CEZARY ZAREBSKI PHOTOGRPAHY

Best of all, the city doesn’t pass you at every turn. The construction cranes mentioned earlier do not bode well for what remains a modest horizon, but so far there is a lot of light. Dublin is a city three and four and five stories high, open to the sky, and though full of cramped lanes and lanes, it’s not the least claustrophobic.

Because it’s not a big city, it has all the advantages of proximity, i.e. you can explore a lot of places without having to walk. Trinity College, with the Book of Kells to draw you in and the grand hall of the quaint library to keep you there in awe, seated right from the first session National Gallery of Irelandlocated just around the corner from National Museum of Ireland (natural and cultural history, archeology), so it’s only a block or two from Grafton Street, and a prime shopping spot.

Recently Dublin has also been influenced by the trend of boutique museums. There are at least two on St. Stephen’s Green alone: Dublin’s Little Museum and just opened Irish Literature Museum, both are small enough to fit within the range of a few or three old Georgian row houses. I just had enough time to check out the literary museum, a beautiful, intimate space that in April showcased a lovely deep dive by the Joyce family. But if I go back there, I will definitely hit National Goblin Museum.

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For food and drink, you can’t get any closer than central Dublin. Of course, there are pubs of all ages on almost every block, and lately the city has gone into a coffee frenzy. As for the food, all the old jokes about Irish cooking are just that, the old jokes that were no longer amusing a few decades ago. I had the good fortune to end a long day of walking and seeing and exploring the surroundings by having dinner at Pig ears, and had one of the best meals of my life. The restaurant’s website promises “good, honest Irish food with a modern twist” and I don’t know what that modern touch was, but my hazelnut-crusted grilled cod was a miracle.

It’s been a long day, but leaving the restaurant, I find myself looking forward to slowly returning to the hotel. The streets were almost deserted in the morning (bank holiday), and at dusk they were deserted again. Traffic is sparse and you can still hear birdsong somewhere in the dark of St. Stephen’s Green. It’s a rare pleasure, I think, to feel at home in a foreign city. And so to sleep.