Lions and Tigers and Fionn, oh my!

We all went to the zoo yesterday, zoo yesterday, the zoo yesterday...

The weather suddenly remembered it was August and the sun scorched down from early 'til late, and the place was absolutely thronged. Only my second time there, Fionn's first, and he was absolutely thrilled. Big hit for him: the tortoises (although he insisted on calling them turtles); big hit for us: watching the elephants taking a shower on the Kaziranga Forest Trail. We also managed to get him take a nap in his buggy (a rare occurrence) which meant we had a whole day out and about. It makes such a difference not to have to plan to go back home for his nap, it feels like you have such freedom :)

He also had plenty of opportunity to find his feet, so, for the hardcore Fionn fans, a real treat lies below:

This is especially for the Grandad's who haven't yet seen much walking action from Fionn: Grandad Greg in particular is so enthused about walking that it inspired him to bring forth the following creation:

Thirteen months of growth.

Another epic journey,
A definite mile-stone,
When baby goes bipedal
And starts to walk alone.

On more than one occasion,
A single step, no more,
You’ve taken since your birthday,
But now you’ve taken four.

The date of this great journey
For historians to quote,
Was on Monday, July twenty,
After thirteen months of growth.

You take your car to work

I'm a hopeless romantic when it comes to the sea. I guess it runs in the family: the brother takes epic oceanic photos (here); and the grandfather wrote a book about his love for traditional boats (here). My heartrate goes up and I get mild goosebumps whenever I see a ship entering or especially leaving port - even if it's just the decrepit old rust-bucket that is the MV Celtic Star, which I know is only heading for Liverpool, and carrying nothing more exotic than a bunch of underpaid Romanian sailors.

© ShipAIS

I feel lucky that my daily commute to the office (whether by DART or the car) takes me past some of the most captivating views Dublin has to offer. From the car on Strand Rd, or the DART south of Sydney Parade, I'm afforded glimpses of sometimes breathtaking scenery, from the hills of Howth to Killiney, and every grain of sand and drop of water in between.

But it's the mystery and potential of the port that really captivates my imagination - it's a border, a point of transition, the place where the controlled chaos of human civilisation meets Nature untamed. Every time I cross the East Link bridge the scene has changed: different ships come and go - the Jeanie Johnston and LÉ Róisín to the West, the Jonathan Swift and Ulysses to the East - and the water has a different look: when I last crossed it on Friday it was fiercely blue, flecked white by the driving wind and sunshine.

It's my favourite view in Dublin, looking down the final few kilometres of the Liffey and seeing the open horizon framed by the docks on each side. I couldn't find any decent photos of it on Flickr, so I'll just have to take a leaf from Paudie's book and go shoot some myself :)

In the meantime, here's a pretty amazing picture of a pretty amazing boat, which was another good reason to appreciate the view from the East Link for a few months there:

© artur sikora