Sunday 23 August 2009

Dublin Friday:

How do you know you're on a boat to Ireland? Because there's two nuns talking to a man with a pint of stout.

That's not a joke, two tables away from us on the not-so-gently rocking superferry from Holyhead to Dublin (christened the Vomit Rocket) the man and the two Brides of Christ were having what can only be described as an indepth heated discussion. Whether it was about saving the mans immortal soul or if Ireland can retain the Six Nations Grand slam they won last year with the front three they've got, only God knows but it is a sign that you're approaching the country where they take most things a little less seriously than the rest of us and some things a hell of a lot more seriously.

We were up early for the ferry, as were the rest of the passengers surrounding us. It was weird, like all the waiting around you'd associate with a domestic/international flight without the cathartic moment of release that is take off and landing. It was all a bit sedate until we hit the middle of the channel and the boat did its best bucking bronco impression.

We 'landed' on time and then it was only a suspiciously cheerful border guard and a half hour train journey to the centre of town.

The train station at Dun Loarie (CHK) is like train stations used to be in mainland Britain. Dirty, overcrowded and confusing. Why would they need signs up showing people which service is departing from which platform? If you don't know you're probably scum, sorry, a tourist.

However it has to be said I've yet to meet a genuine Dub all the bar staff so far seem to be from estonia. So EVERYONE is a tourist.

Anyways once checked into our blessedly quiet hotel we ventured out towards the guinness museum type thing. A walk broken up rather pleasantly by soup and a sandwich lunch and our first pint of the black stuff.

I know that the Guinness, scientifically speaking is no different to that which you can order in Holyhead or Hoxton but for some reason, probably psycological, to me it tastes a lot better. Much richer and yet much more easily drinkable.

Refreshed and well fed we headed up to the Guinness Store House to find it a teeming hotbed of twatty touroids all intent on capturing a geniue piece of 'Oriland for themselves. Of the five automatic tickets booths one was working. I say was because, in a move that will shock no-one, I managed to break the only remaining working one; "But I would like the four already broken machines to be taken into account, your honour!"

Deciding digression was the better part of valour , we merrily disappeared not before stopping at the tat shop to get some much needed Guinness branded supplies.

We stopped at the Brazen Head, allegedly the oldest pub in Ireland for a second pint and found it not quite as heavenly as the first. But I was prepared to forgive this as the third was quite admerable.

Then it was the slow walk back through the tourists to the hotel for a quick hour nap before heading back out to one of my favourite Irish pubs even if it is a tourist trap. The Oliver St. John Gogarty. Crazy name, crazy place! Well not really, the guinness is good the people are warm and friendly. We were greeted from the stage " Ah, the Welsh! The celts that couldn't swim!"
They were playing the traditional Irish Music hich is great when you are actually here surrounded by the music and the noise and such, but back home on CD it just doesn't feel the same.

Suitabtly refreshed we headed out to The Stags Head (Exsiquite Victorian Features) and The Long Hall (Not so long as they'd have you belive. The Hanover in Liverpool is a long bar this is more a medium bar. These felt more for the locals than the tourist places we'd been previously.

I have noticed a different dynamic when theres a group of four rather than two. When I came here before we couldn't go more than a pint without getting into a conversation with somebody. With the four of us we seem a more contained unit and so the craic has been fun but not on the same scale as last time. Admittedly last time my liver was five years younger, we stayed out till 2 in the morning, I had hair and ladies would swoon at five hundred paces at my friend (Good looking Bass player whos also a crackingly nice guy. Damn him. :) )

After that we stopped for a late night snack (About 10pm) Em got a burger and I had a fallaffal which was delicious I think! Then it wasa time to roll into the hotel for a well earned rest.

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