Tuesday, October 5, 2010

Irish Blood, English Heart, This I'm Made Of, There is No One On Earth I'm Afraid Of

October 4, 2010

Before picking up my rental car on Sunday at the Dublin Airport, I was driven to the Sixt Rental Car Park by a shuttle. When I asked the shuttle driver whether there was anything in particular I should know about driving in Ireland, and whether it is particularly difficult to do so, he assured me that, besides for the driving on the other side of the street, Ireland was a fairly easy place to drive. NOT SO. Both Dublin and Galway (I'm in Galway now) are almost impossible to navigate without knowing exactly where one is going and how to get there. No street signs, mostly one way streets (not marked on my map), hard to follow directional signs and pedestrians everywhere. And cars everywhere for that matter too. The streets are so flooded with both cars and people that it is almost as hard to walk around as it is to drive.

ANYWAY...on Monday, instead of wander aimlessly around Dublin, I opted to take a day trip in my car to Newgrange, a burial site in the Irish countryside, built in approximately 3200 B.C. It is part of a larger complex of similar burial grounds called Bru na Boinne, I think Newgrange is one of the biggest, and probably the most famous. The drive involved 2 toll roads but the roads were excellent. And Irish drivers drive FAST. The speed limit was 120 kmh (approximately 75 mph), which I was pretty happy with, or maybe going slightly faster. I was still getting passed left and right (or rather, on the right, because people drive on the left). In the area near Dublin I listened to some commercial radio, which included a University Challenge style quiz, of which I was able to get almost none of the answers correct. After about 45 kilometers on the highway, I drove some kind of narrow, often undivided country roads to the visitor center, paid my 6 euro tour fee and waited an hour for the first bus to arrive (ate a ham and cheese panini at the visitor center cafe while waiting). The site was impressive -- built on top of a hill, constructed all of stone but covered on the top with growing grass. A guide explained to us the possible purposes of the mound, the history of its excavation, and then led us inside a narrow, short chamber into a tiny central cavern where the human remains had once remained, before being removed by vandals in the 17th century. I drank a double espresso at the vistor center cafe before driving home.

While the drive home was relatively smooth, once I got into Dublin, driving turned miserable again. It took me at least half an hour driving around in circles before I found the entrance to the parking lot in which I had reserved a spot. And the spot I had reserved was taken by someone else. So I had to take someone else's spot, which of course made me nervous. What should have made me even more nervous was that I did not anymore have the placard for the dashboard showing that I was legally parked. But rather, in my eagerness to get back into town, I completely forgot about this requirement.

I was somehow starving, so walked into the Temple Bar area (one of the more popular/bar areas in Dublin) and had a chili burger at Gourmet Burger Kitchen, while a blond girl sang in the square in a Duffy-ish style, but in an even more inappropriately overdramatic style. People oohed and aahed at her oversinging. A few tables over, an older Irish couple chatted with each other. The man was wearing a hearing aid and was mostly inaudible. His wife spoke loudly and wore a star of David, which looking surprising against someone with an Irish accent.

I walked down the quay to the Dublin Oktoberfest festivities, which hadn't heated up so much yet, but which would be going on until late. There was a covered area with tables before which a polka style band in traditional German outfits played Oktoberfest type music, while Irish people drank German beer out of liter sized mugs. Outside there was a charcoal pit where sausages were grilled. I bought one and put mustard on it. I messaged on my Blackberry and read in my Lonely Planet about Galway and people watched. I also drank one of those liter sized beers.

Returned to the hostel to see if anyone I knew was around -- no one was, so I continued to message on Blackberry and charge my phone (which requires at least 2 full charges these days to make it through the day).

When I decided to take a walk it was dark, and slightly cold. My days of sweating while walking are mostly over. The Lonely Planet described Grogan's Castle Lounge as a "city-centre insitution...has long been a favourite haunt of Dublin's writers and painters, as well as others from the bohemian, alternative set" so I thought to give it a try. Also, I wanted to make another test of the frequent advice that it is "easy to meet people in Dublin". The pub was mostly populated with older Irish guys, some sitting alone, some in small groups. Almost everyone was drinking a Guinness, so I ordered one as well (and yes, it is true -- Guinness does taste better in Dublin, this was very good) and sat quietly reading on my phone. For a bit, I stepped outside for fresh air and saw a guy reading Jonathan Franzen's The Corrections. I asked him what he thought, and his answer reflected that he mostly enjoyed it, thought it was in the better half of books he reads, but seemed flawed in ways he described in more detail than I can remember. When I returned to my chair, two Australian guys had taken seats next to me, and were chatting with the older Irish guy who had been sitting a few seats away from me. Somehow, I made my way into this conversation, which surprised the Irish guy, who admitted that he had assumed all along that I was Italian. Guy was a cop, very friendly, and the Australians turned out to also be from my hostel (they had found both the hostel and the bar in the same manner in which I had -- the Lonely Planet Guide -- and I am realizing that the only other people who follow the guide as faithfully as I do are Australians). The older cop bought us all Guinnesses, and was, as is often said of the Irish, extremely. The conversation later included another older Irish guy, this one slightly more weathered, a musician. Taught me much about Irish history. After a few more hours of this, I was completely satisfied with this experience.

I started walking home, realized I was starving, and bought a 7 euro kebab.

And then ran into the group from the night before from my hostel (the American couple and two Canadian guys), who had just come from a Casino and a pub (their goal for the evening was to visit a bar, a casino, a strip club and a club -- they did not accomplish this goal by the end of the night) and invited me to join them. Walked as a group to Mcdonald's (the girl was hungry) past a guy semi-passed out in the street and 18 year old Irish girls screaming like maniacs. I have grown tired of the fake rivalry between Americans and Canadians. Contrary to often stated wisdom, neither country "sucks". Stayed out with these guys until much later than I had planned, maybe something well after 2, which was inconvenient considering that I planned to rise early the next day. But I like hanging out with people, and these guys were on the better side of alright (kind of like The Corrections).

So that was my "big night out" in Dublin (there may be another opportunity on Friday, but I'm not crossing my fingers). Not so bad. People were friendly, and got a free Guinness.

Morrissey -- Irish Blood, English Heart

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