I want to set some things straight. I realize that I have told a lot of stories from Ireland that involve pubs, and I want to be clear that the pubs of Ireland are not like bars in the States. (Disclaimer: I don’t even really know what bars in the States are like, so these comparisons are based off of my rather primitive and non-firsthand understanding of the bar culture of home). The pub is the center of Irish social life; the best thing I can compare it to is the coffee shop of the States. The whole community goes to the local pub for food, conversation, and live music, not just for a drink. It is a place where people hang out and talk, where the bartender knows your name and, more than that, is your neighbor. I met so many wonderful people, got a lot of free cups of tea, heard some great music, and all in all fell in love with the atmosphere of pubs and wish that back home in the States it were more like this.
The bars in Spain are also very different from what I understand the bars in the States to be like. When I was in Granada, we met up with a friend and she took us out to eat at her favorite tapas place, which was obviously a bar because every place that serves tapas (or any food, really) is a bar. But this was not like any bar I had ever seen (or heard of) in the States. We sat at the tables in the front left section of the bar, with the bar itself along the front right; but in the back section of the bar, there were couches set up around two or three coffee tables and some bookshelves along the wall with books, magazines, a checkers board, and some other games. There were two families sitting on the couches, the parents talking over a bottle of wine and children playing checkers and entertaining themselves. It was something you would expect to see in someone’s home, not in a public bar, but that is the way (some of) the bars of Spain are. There is a park near my apartment with a small outdoor bar/café, and it is perfectly normal to see parents sipping a glass of wine while their kids climb on the jungle gym and swing on the swing-set. It is just a very different cultural attitude towards alcohol and a different atmosphere as a result. Alcohol is an important part of the culture and a part of everyday life in a wholesome kind of way that is different from the States. Not that it is better or that I want bars opening in public parks at home, but I do think that the US might have less alcohol-related problems if alcohol were something people learned how appreciate socially and to enjoy in moderation from a young age. I also don’t want to say that all bars in Spain are like that—of course there are clubs and things, but as a general observation, the attitude towards alcohol and the consumption of alcohol is very different here in Spain and in Ireland as well. Something to think about and talk about (especially in view of Point Loma’s Covenant)…
Showing posts with label Ireland. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Ireland. Show all posts
Monday, March 29, 2010
Sunday, March 28, 2010
Trad
On my first night in Kilkenny, Jenn, the friend I met from the hostel, and I went in search of live music in one of the pubs (because that is what you do) and ended up at Cleere’s pub, apparently a pretty famous small concert venue. It happened that a few local bands were playing in the back room. It was not the traditional Irish music (trad, as it is called) that we were looking for, but we were not disappointed. However, as I was determined to find some good trad, I asked around the next day and eventually came across a poster that offered some promising information.
That night, Kilkenny was celebrating Earth Hour (an annual event where everyone turns out their lights for an hour as a way to raise awareness about global climate change) culminating with “Trad Night by Candlelight” at Ryan’s pub. Perfect. I told Jenn about it, and she was just as excited as I was. The music was fantastic, although the session was not quite as long as I would have liked. Jenn and I made friends with one of the musicians from the band who told us about a flaedh (a trad festival) going on in a small town called Leighlin (lock-lin) Bridge only about twenty minutes north of Kilkenny. With a little bit of schedule adjusting, Jenn and I figured we could make it out to Leighlin Bridge for a while for the sake of some good music. I love that we were able to be spontaneous and flexible with plans, just pick up and go.
Once we arrived in Leighlin Bridge, a very small but very beautiful town, we were directed to the Parish center, where they were having a barbeque to start the day’s festivities. (It was Sunday and the flaedh had been going on since Friday, so this was the final day). A handful of people were hanging out in the parking lot, adults chatting over hamburgers and hotdogs (or sausages, as they say) and kids playing football and playing impromptu tunes on their small pipes. We were immediately welcomed and given free lunch, in spite of our protests. After an amazing hamburger (my first taste of “American” food in about two months), we walked back down to the town’s main pub where the music would be happening later. We were only able to stay for a little bit of the music, but it was worth every minute.
We took a seat at the bar and the bartender asked us what we would have, to which we replied that just a cup of tea would be lovely. He asked us where we were from, why we were in Ireland, and if either of had any Irish in us; after I told him the story of my Irish family, he declared me to be honorary Irish while I was there. A few minutes later, he brought out two mugs of tea and two chocolate snacks for which he refused payment: “They’re complimentary for you,” he said. A guy sitting a few seats down said, “Jim, how about a complimentary pint down this way.” To which the bartender replied, “Now, Pat, you’re not nearly as pretty as the two girls, and besides, I know how many you’ve already had.” I am seriously blown away by the friendliness of the Irish people. I don’t think I have ever received so many free things accompanied by so many smiles and stories.
That night, Kilkenny was celebrating Earth Hour (an annual event where everyone turns out their lights for an hour as a way to raise awareness about global climate change) culminating with “Trad Night by Candlelight” at Ryan’s pub. Perfect. I told Jenn about it, and she was just as excited as I was. The music was fantastic, although the session was not quite as long as I would have liked. Jenn and I made friends with one of the musicians from the band who told us about a flaedh (a trad festival) going on in a small town called Leighlin (lock-lin) Bridge only about twenty minutes north of Kilkenny. With a little bit of schedule adjusting, Jenn and I figured we could make it out to Leighlin Bridge for a while for the sake of some good music. I love that we were able to be spontaneous and flexible with plans, just pick up and go.
Once we arrived in Leighlin Bridge, a very small but very beautiful town, we were directed to the Parish center, where they were having a barbeque to start the day’s festivities. (It was Sunday and the flaedh had been going on since Friday, so this was the final day). A handful of people were hanging out in the parking lot, adults chatting over hamburgers and hotdogs (or sausages, as they say) and kids playing football and playing impromptu tunes on their small pipes. We were immediately welcomed and given free lunch, in spite of our protests. After an amazing hamburger (my first taste of “American” food in about two months), we walked back down to the town’s main pub where the music would be happening later. We were only able to stay for a little bit of the music, but it was worth every minute.
We took a seat at the bar and the bartender asked us what we would have, to which we replied that just a cup of tea would be lovely. He asked us where we were from, why we were in Ireland, and if either of had any Irish in us; after I told him the story of my Irish family, he declared me to be honorary Irish while I was there. A few minutes later, he brought out two mugs of tea and two chocolate snacks for which he refused payment: “They’re complimentary for you,” he said. A guy sitting a few seats down said, “Jim, how about a complimentary pint down this way.” To which the bartender replied, “Now, Pat, you’re not nearly as pretty as the two girls, and besides, I know how many you’ve already had.” I am seriously blown away by the friendliness of the Irish people. I don’t think I have ever received so many free things accompanied by so many smiles and stories.
Saturday, March 27, 2010
Kilkenny
After Dublin, I headed to Kilkenny, a typical small Irish town southwest of Dublin with a castle and a lot of history. A few people asked me why I was going to Kilkenny. I guess it is expected that if American students are travelling to Ireland, they will spend their time in the big cities (or in the pubs of the big cities). Oh, stereotypes. I did not want that at all. I wanted to get a good overview of Ireland, her people, her landscape, and her history, which seemed to surprise some people (which is a little sad, I think). Anyway, I headed south to Kilkenny, and I think my time there was the highlight of my trip.
After feeling very alone and isolated in the big city of Dublin, the atmosphere of community and family in Kilkenny was very pronounced. The hostel where I stayed was a major part of the feeling of community. At night, everyone sat in the living room sharing stories around the wood stove, and there I met a new friend, Jenn, who will be around in some more stories soon to come.
I suppose I have heard somewhere before that the Irish are some of the friendliest people in the world, and it is definitely not an exaggeration. As I was reading my map at the bus station, a man asked me where I was headed and as he was headed in the same direction for at lest a while, he walked with me and gave me a mini tour of the town. As he pointed out the major sights—the castle, the cathedral, the abbey, the historic pub—he ran into a friend of his and his boss who both asked him if he would be coming out to one of the pubs for a pint later. I have really enjoyed all the opportunities that cities like San Diego and Sevilla offer, but something I realized while in Ireland is that I love living in a small town where you can’t walk down the street without seeing someone you know to stop and talk to. I loved getting to be a part of some of the small towns that really are the foundation of Irish life and culture.
After feeling very alone and isolated in the big city of Dublin, the atmosphere of community and family in Kilkenny was very pronounced. The hostel where I stayed was a major part of the feeling of community. At night, everyone sat in the living room sharing stories around the wood stove, and there I met a new friend, Jenn, who will be around in some more stories soon to come.
I suppose I have heard somewhere before that the Irish are some of the friendliest people in the world, and it is definitely not an exaggeration. As I was reading my map at the bus station, a man asked me where I was headed and as he was headed in the same direction for at lest a while, he walked with me and gave me a mini tour of the town. As he pointed out the major sights—the castle, the cathedral, the abbey, the historic pub—he ran into a friend of his and his boss who both asked him if he would be coming out to one of the pubs for a pint later. I have really enjoyed all the opportunities that cities like San Diego and Sevilla offer, but something I realized while in Ireland is that I love living in a small town where you can’t walk down the street without seeing someone you know to stop and talk to. I loved getting to be a part of some of the small towns that really are the foundation of Irish life and culture.
Friday, March 26, 2010
More Lessons from a Pub
I love the pubs of Ireland. I love the good food, the tea, the music, and just community that they are. I like trying new things, especially new food-- it is a kind of miniature adventure in itself. One thing I have been doing for some meals here in Ireland is getting recommendations from locals about favorite local pubs and ordering the daily "special." Now that has been an adventure. Forrest Gump's momma always said, "Life is like a box of chocolates. You never know what you're going to get." That is a lie; well, maybe just an inaccurate comparison. I can tell you exactly what you will get in a box of chocolates: CHOCOLATE. Now, the pub's daily "special" on the other hand... who knows. In spite of the uncertainty that clouds the "special," I have been continually pleasantly surprised. I have ordered the soup and sandwich specials at a few different pubs, and each time (although some things sounded quite bizarre) I absolutely loved it. Especially the roll with glazed pork, bread crumbs and applesauce alongside a bowl of potato and mushroom soup. Strange, yes? But amazingly delicious. So, my new and improved analogy: Life is like the neighborhood pub's daily special-- you never know what you are going to get, but you will might just find yourself pleasantly surprised.
Thursday, March 25, 2010
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.
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.
Wednesday, March 24, 2010
On the Streets of Dublin
As the title of this blog may tell you, I am not in Sevilla right now, or even in Spain. Why, you ask? Well, Semana Santa is a very big deal in Sevilla-- every day is a holiday for everyone for more than a whole week. I have been looking forward to seeing Semana Santa in Sevilla since I started thinking about study abroad, but it is also a very long break and I wanted to take advantage of some of that time to do a bit of outside travelling. So, for the first few days of Semana Santa, I decided to travel to Ireland. I think I might just say that again because I am so excited: IRELAND! I will be gone for a little less than a week (Wednesday March 24 to Tuesday March 30), but will return with plenty of time to see most of Semana Santa in Sevilla (Tuesday to Sunday).
So, now that you know what I am doing, I guess I might tell you a little more about how it has been, or maybe just a few reflections and realizations.
1. There is nothing like independence to make you feel so free and so incredibly vulnerable at the same time. There is no one depending on me but myself; and at the same time, I am depending on no one but myself. That is to say, I can make all the plans I want and do the things I want to do when I want to do them, but !geeze louise! it is a lot of pressure and a lot of hard work. There is no one holding my hand or taking care of me, and if something goes wrong, it is no one's fault but my own. Sometimes the things we thought we wanted, although great and glorious, often remind us of the things we had before. As I am here in Ireland doing all these travel things for myself, I find myself missing having food cooked for me and a consistent bed and a real "home" to come home to. At the same time, I am finally doing something that I have wanted to do since I was a kid. What a mess I am, right?
2. (To follow 1) Adventure is out there! And Adventure is scary. That is why it is an adventure. But it is also glorious and exciting and new and surprising. That is also why it is adventure. So, here I am wanting Adventure (with a capital A) in the Great Wide Somewhere and realizing that I am scared stiff. How can what I want so badly scare me just as badly at the same time?
3. There are few feelings worse than realizing when it is already too late that you forgot your lunch on the kitchen counter. Believe me. It has happened to me multiple times, and it always makes the day a little less cheery than it might have been.
4. (To follow 3) There is always time to double check. To quote my wonderful dad: "Prevention is easier than fixing." I know this. Seriously, it has been drilled into my brain since childhood. So why on earth do I still forget my lunch on the kitchen counter?
So, now that you know what I am doing, I guess I might tell you a little more about how it has been, or maybe just a few reflections and realizations.
1. There is nothing like independence to make you feel so free and so incredibly vulnerable at the same time. There is no one depending on me but myself; and at the same time, I am depending on no one but myself. That is to say, I can make all the plans I want and do the things I want to do when I want to do them, but !geeze louise! it is a lot of pressure and a lot of hard work. There is no one holding my hand or taking care of me, and if something goes wrong, it is no one's fault but my own. Sometimes the things we thought we wanted, although great and glorious, often remind us of the things we had before. As I am here in Ireland doing all these travel things for myself, I find myself missing having food cooked for me and a consistent bed and a real "home" to come home to. At the same time, I am finally doing something that I have wanted to do since I was a kid. What a mess I am, right?
2. (To follow 1) Adventure is out there! And Adventure is scary. That is why it is an adventure. But it is also glorious and exciting and new and surprising. That is also why it is adventure. So, here I am wanting Adventure (with a capital A) in the Great Wide Somewhere and realizing that I am scared stiff. How can what I want so badly scare me just as badly at the same time?
3. There are few feelings worse than realizing when it is already too late that you forgot your lunch on the kitchen counter. Believe me. It has happened to me multiple times, and it always makes the day a little less cheery than it might have been.
4. (To follow 3) There is always time to double check. To quote my wonderful dad: "Prevention is easier than fixing." I know this. Seriously, it has been drilled into my brain since childhood. So why on earth do I still forget my lunch on the kitchen counter?
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