Lessons from a Pub (first night in Dublin)

As I had just arrived in Dublin after a very long and rather stressful day of travelling, I did not feel up to a too-large dose of adventure right away. I took some time to settle in to the hostel and use the computer for a bit before asking the man at the reception desk if there was a place close by that he would recommend for dinner and maybe some live music. He was very friendly and told me Brannigan's Pub right around the corner for food and The Celt a little further away for music. I thanked him and headed to Brannigan's pub, hoping to find something cheap to eat and maybe just sit and listen to Irish accents. I was not disappointed.

The pub was a typical local pub, which I love, with good food, a relaxed atmosphere, a friendly bartender, and friendly people. I walked up to the bar and ordered some food, just in time to catch the start of the football match which I pretended to be deeply interested in and made a little bit of small talk about it with the man sitting a few seats down the bar. I enjoyed the quiet time, just listening and thinking. After I finished my food, the man who I had only casually talked to introduced himself as Gary and started talking to me as I sipped my cup of Irish tea (or scald as it is sometimes called here). He must have wanted someone to talk to (or maybe it was the Guinness), because we talked (well, he mostly talked and I mostly listened) for more than two hours and it was one of the greatest things of my life. He asked me where I was from and just started telling me stories about his life and teling me about Dublin. All in all, he bought me two cups of tea and two 7UPs as we talked about politics, religion, travelling, literature, football, and family (to name just a few) and he was full of the most amazing stories and bits of wisdom.

One of my favorites was: "I like to take the ideas of how you are supposed to be, what you're supposed to look like, what you are supposed to do and turn 'em on their heads... Then I like to bang 'em on their heads a few times for good measure." And when he was talking about Irish stew: "As an Irishman, I know a good spud. This one was stunning." He told me he was curious about where I was from because my accent was very slight; after we started talking more he said I sounded more American, but at least I was able to blend in for a while. As we were finishing up, he said "You're a watcher, you are. Keep on watching and paying attention and you won't be dissappointed. You have a good gaze-- a good hold. There must be a hell of a lot of Irish in you." When I said that there was, he laughed with the pleasure of being right and told me he could tell, that my facial features, dark hair, and light eyes are very Irish-- what they call Black Irish, descended from the original Celts (the red hair you may think of as traditional Irish comes from the Viking bloodlines). He said, "You're a good girl, you are. Just trying to find your way, and doing it Sweeney Todd, too-- that just means alone, you know. You're doing the right thing and you're doing all right." Thanks for the encouragement, Gary.