In honour of St. Patrick's Day I thought I'd post this piece of writing I found when I was continuing my computer housekeeping yesterday. It's from 2002.
The Irish Myth
We’ve just returned from a holiday in Ireland, land of leprechauns, Guinness and the best craic this side of Upper Cwmtwrch.
At least, that’s what everyone says: the books, the travel guides, uncle Joe who once went for a day trip to Dublin.
Well, we found plenty of Guinness, no complaints there, and even the odd leprechaun, but where the feck was the craic?
Duffyball we were reliably assured. Nudge, nudge, wink, wink, the place for lock-ins. But not this week apparently.
On our first attempt we found what we thought must be the only bar in Ireland with just one customer, monosyllabic at that, and Sky television. We were wrong: the second was worse. It didn’t even have The Simpsons to relieve the monotony.
At least the third made some attempt at authenticity, smelling of cow and with a lop-eared barman.
‘Do you have live music?’
‘Oh, yes, we’ve had live music the last two Fridays.’
‘And do you have it this week?’
‘Oh, no.’
Night after night we trawled the bars. Pint after pint of the dark stuff was downed. You had to admire us for our tenacity. But still no craic.
By Friday we were getting desperate. Would we have to return home with tales of sorrow and despair?
Salvation came in the unlikely form of a run-down, smeared-window bar, with an assortment of inebriated musicians, mostly ignored by the crowd, except for these two tourists who clapped and cheered them on like there was no yesterday.
So, anyway, there was this leprechaun...
3 comments:
I guess we all have our unrealistic, stereotyped expectations about how a particular country or culture will be. For example, I would expect Wales to be wall-to-wall men's choirs just up from the pits. And perhaps you'd expect Canada to be populated entirely by burly lumberjacks in buffalo check coats, I don't know!
Best to keep your myths of what may/might/could have been in your heart and not look for them. That way when you see the changes, you can just close your eyes and let the myth see for you. Back in 1965, as a HS grad reward, I went to NYC for a week with my father. A cabbie, upon finding out I was from TX asked if I rode horses everywhere (no - I live in Houston) and had an oil well on my land (no I live in Houston). I was amused but he seemed disgruntled to find the myth not true.
We had a few fun nights on a tour, all orchestrated, but wonderful times in Dublin.
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