Sunday, October 4, 2009

Irish Hunger Memorial

Late on Friday afternoon, finding ourselves in Tribeca, near the Hudson, Vince and I decided to carry on to the water and down along Battery Park, before hiking over the Brooklyn Bridge and the East River, and home (oh, and beers at the yacht basin).

Still in Battery Park I pointed out the oddly-shaped futuristic mound of the Irish Hunger Memorial. I had seen it under construction, and had been underwhelmed. But we went in, through the corridor of illuminated quotations and rather deranged music, through the shell of a stone house and emerged into an emerald isle in the sea of skyscrapers. I was quite speechless.

There is apparently a stone here from every Irish county.

The simplicity of the plantings was poignant and arresting. There are roses along all the walls, so May must be afroth.

This was the same night we had potatoes for dinner. I only just realized...

I saw a bird in the upper meadow. I was the only one who saw it. It was large, about 12" long, with short legs, and a pale browny-gold colour, with dark stripes over its tail. A long pointy beak and narrow head. Very beautiful. It was startled, and after almost falling to the grass it took off, wheeled, lost, landed again and then headed towards the water and the nearby trees. It may have been migrating, and have dazed itself on one of the many surrounding skyscrapers.


  1. Thanks so much for sharing this - it's been a spot we wanted to visit for a while, and you've renewed my interest!

  2. I took my mother and sisters to the memorial last September and while we were there a large group of heavily coiffed and made-up women arrived with several photographers. They stripped off their sweatpants and baggy shirts to reveal thongs and bikini tops and each one put on a pair of crazy high heels. I couldn't resist taking photos of this ridiculous and basically offensive juxtaposition: Irish Hunger Memorial and bimbo photo shoot. Somebody actually thought that was a good idea?!

  3. I absolutely love that spot, especially the quotations and waking through the long corridor.


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