8. 'Dreamin' of a New Life and Hoping Dreams Come True'

31 July 2025

The ship is not only not moving, but moored at Cobh Pier when I wake up this morning. From the window, I see a railway station and both the pier and the station are already busy enough for the early hour. Before long, Marianne and I are on the station doing reconnaissance, gathering information from, of all people, a tour guide. But the Irish are happy to share information, and this bloke was more generous than most. We learn that the train to Cork leaves on the hour and on the half-hour. We collect some maps and return to the ship for breakfast.

Laraine is booked to visit Blarney Castle today and we are fully expecting her to come back later with not only the gift of the gab, but with an Irish accent as well. There are no tender tickets today and soon after breakfast, Marianne, Carolyn and I take the short walk down the gangplank to the station, purchase return tickets and wait for our train to arrive. The train itself is nothing special except that it is an Irish train and that it does go from A to B. Train travel in Ireland is a little bit hit and miss at the best of times, but true to the advice given to us by our new friend the tour guide, the train pulls into the station just a few minutes before 10 o'clock and we quickly jump in to find seats, as today, half the passengers on the ship are heading to Cork.

The train travels by the side of the water and the views are very pretty. After a short 26 minute ride, we pull into Kent Street station. Getting directions from the information desk at the station, we walk across the road and wait for the red double-decker HOHO bus, which will carry us around Cork, the second largest city in Ireland.

Although Cork was founded allegedly by St Finbar in the 6th century before it was urbanised by Viking settlers around 915. They built it into a large trading port and apparently both the ecclesiastical and Viking settlers lived and worked together in harmony.

Once settled upstairs, I am surprised to find that the commentary is live and our rather young driver talks through the PA system as we meander through the streets.

He tells us to 'Duck' when large tree branches, which have not been trimmed by the council skim above the seats on the left side of the bus. I am sitting on the left and have to often duck to miss being scratched or, worse, hit by a large branch. One of Cork's most important exports is butter and the largest butter market and butter exchange has stood on the same site since 1769. The impressive building is now the Butter Museum and is a HOHO stop. We don't get off, instead opting to remain on the bus for the full tour. besides, this driver/tour guide is good. His commentary is light-hearted and fun.

Just near the Butter Museum is Saint Anne's Church. Most people would not know it by that name because it is also the location of the world famous Shandon Bells. When Helene and I were in Cork in January 1981, we scampered up the 132 steps to the bell tower where we were able to play Twinkle Twinkle Little Star on the bells. I've since found out that the bell tower is being renovated at the moment, so it is closed. Somehow, forty-four years later, I do not think I would be limping let alone scampering up those steps. Other interesting things about this church are the clocks. On each side of the square tower is an identical clock. Named the Four-Faced Liar, each clock shows a slightly different variation on the time. We eventually arrive at St Patrick's Street in the city centre, and spend an hour wandering around the shopping and business district. The cobbled mall houses many department stores and speciality shops, and we wander in and out, enjoying the ambience.

The English Market, which is located opposite the bus stop, first opened in the same year the First Fleet arrived in Australia - 1788. Over the centuries it has adapted to the needs of the locals by including in-demand foods. Today, as we step into the market, we find an array of organic foods on display. Attracted to the pile of local oysters, we purchase three, one for each of us to eat now. They are shucked and placed on a plate with lemon wedges and we waste no time eating the slippery and meaty morsels from the sea. Our special treat!

We meet the bus, return to the station and within a few minutes the train that will return us to Cobh arrives. Our morning in Cork has been fun and as I watch the scenery from the window of the train, I feel quite thankful that I have an afternoon ahead of me to further explore the quaint village of Cobh.

The port where the Norwegian Dawn is docked is as close to the town centre as it could get, and it is a surprise to me that this is the only dedicated cruise terminal in Ireland. This is something we will understand better in a few days time. After a quick lunch, Marianne and I set off to explore the village, which, as you could imagine, is filled with not just the usual summer tourists, but plenty of passengers from the ship. It is warmer this afternoon, and the this morning's clouds have been replaced by a deep azure cloudless sky. I had visited the Cobh Heritage Centre, which is attached to the railway station, in January 2022, just after Ireland reopened to the rest of the world after COVID. The story of migration from this port is heartbreaking because it was from this port that many of the Irish were either deported from their own country as indentured servants or they fled due to the famine. It was a major embarkation port for men, women, and children who were deported for petty crimes to penal colonies in Australia.

The statue of Annie Moore and her two younger brothers stands here. Annie was a teenager when she boarded the Nevada in late December 1891. After a twelve-day voyage in an overcrowded steerage class, Annie stepped off the ship on New Year's Day 1892 and was the first migrant to be processed in Ellis Island, New York. Annie's life in America was probably no better than her life in Ireland and she died in New York at the age of 47. Cobh or Queenstown as it was known then, was the last port that the Titanic visited to collect its Irish passengers before its fateful voyage to New York. Of the 123 passengers that boarded in Cobh, only 44 survived the sinking.

Along the foreshore and up into the hills behind the town, gaily painted houses and buildings can be seen. The church, built on a steep hill, stands behind the front street, a constant reminder of the importance of the church.

It does not surprise me to find out that Cobh has changed little since the Titanic sailed out of this port in 1912, and I suppose this adds to the charm of the town. Today, under its bright blue sky and warm breeze, the streets are crowded with tourists, the main industry of the small town. The town 'square', which sits in the shadow of the church is filled with people as they listen to the live music blasting out from the pub. It is a perfect day for a pint and Irish music, and the crowd is enjoying the atmosphere. As we continue to wander along the road, I stop and buy a cheap plastic jug from a variety store. The ship is very stingy about supplying water to the passengers, and it is very difficult to refill our bottles from a glass without spilling it. The jug will make it easier, less messy.

Our time is almost over, and as the late afternoon shadows lengthen and the breeze from the water cools, we return reluctantly to the ship. It is almost time to dress up and meet Carolyn and Laraine for cocktails before dinner.

We have enjoyed out visit to Cork and Cobh, and when we meet Laraine, we find that she still has an Aussie accent even after touring Blarney and the places surrounding it. She also has had a wonderful day. It's been a great day for sightseeing and for the beautiful and warm day.

Title Quote: Tom O'Sullivan, Heartbreak Pier

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