Irish Pub 101

My goodness, my Guinness

The click of my heels on the pavement pauses as we stop at the mouth of an alleyway. It has all the requisite charm of a European side street: cobblestones, low lighting, and every so often a tumble of noise from a nearby doorway.

“This is the one, Kelly – one of the oldest pubs,” says my friend, tugging me along toward the bright spot halfway down the alley. A Guinness sign shines like a beacon, and I wonder at the ease with which we use superlatives. Is this how we travel? How we mark a good time? At the oldest, tallest, widest, finest, darkest, most, best place in all the land.

I’ve been to bars. I was a bartender for 4 years during my undergrad years, at a hole-in-the-wall college bar. I know the smell (cigarettes and stale beer), the feel (the bar rag sticking on a spill), the sight (packed house, patrons on the prowl) and the sound (Bon Jovi, Billy Joel, Frankie Blue Eyes crooning from the corner jukebox). But a pub? That’s a bar of a different color.

The noise comes first. The heavy wooden door yawns open and the hand on the small of my back nudges me into the room; glasses clinking, booming laughter, the steady thrum of conversation. It’s packed. It’s warm. The light is yellow like sunshine and puddles on the scarred wooden tables, the piles of winter coats cast into corners. Immediately, we are drawn in.

The boys march toward the bar, and the girls locate a table in a back room. There are people everywhere – ruddy faced, full of gestures and the bravado of storytellers. The conversation rises and falls around us, and I realize that although it’s loud, this is not the cacophony of a bar where you yell at your friends and lose your voice. This is the sound of people. Saturday night, no work tomorrow, pass me a pint, people.

My cider is cold and crisp like the apples it came from. My cheeks are flushed and I’m relieved when a nearby couple vacates a low table so our group can sit down. A rowdy bunch of women are roaring in the corner booth, under a long mirror which extends the room and reflects plaques on the walls that are polished to a high gloss. Strangers share tables and stories, friends pick up the next round of pints and barkeeps maintain a steady banter in a rhythm older than time.

How easy to settle into a place like this, at the elbow of an Irishman with a brogue as thick as his Guinness.

This, is an Irish pub.

Duke of York

[photo 1]: Gravity Bar, Guinness Storehouse, St. James Gate, Dublin, Ireland

Impressions are based on Duke of York pub, Belfast, Northern Ireland

Once Upon an Irish Library

In my earliest memories, my bibliophile mother was reading to me, taking me to libraries, teaching me respect for books and the power of the imagination. So of course, when I travel, these are things that mark my path through a new place. Where is the nearest bookshop? Donde esta la biblioteca? Point me to the books. Oh so easy to do, in bookish Ireland.

Here’s a quick peek down the stacks at the famous: Trinity College, the new: McClay Library, Queen’s University Belfast, the private: Chester Beatty Library, Dublin, and the old: Russell Library, NUI Maynooth.

Trinity College, Long Room. Courtesy of NYTimes Travel.

Trinity College, Dublin. This goes on most tourist checklists: Founded in 1592 as one of the Queen’s universities – and the oldest in Ireland. If you recall from my travel planning, I was loathe to pay 8.5 euros to see one page of an ancient  illuminated manuscript. Then I realized in order to see the famed Long Room, I had to pay up … and in I went. While the Book of Kells, penned in the year 800, is pretty epic .. the Long Room was for me. There, under high cathedral ceilings, I turned up my collar against the cold, and stared. Stared as though my eyes could not open wide enough.

A small exhibit marched along the middle of the room (that is indeed: long) – illustrations from long ago texts, explained in digitally reproduced images on giant posters among the stacks. A sedate velvet rope across each section was the only thing that stopped me from reaching out my bare hand to touch the spines of books. Tall books, small books, fat books. Leather or cloth, titles lettered in gold filigree or india ink. Wooden ladders leading high into the ceiling, to the uppermost shelves. I half expected Hermione to walk by me and release a book into the air, so it could nestle itself into place on the shelf.

Chester Beatty Library, Dublin. Courtesy of budgettraveladventures.

Chester Beatty Library, Dublin. While on the bus into Dublin, I sat next to a fellow book nerd who was most assuredly, a leprechaun. Before she disappeared into the city, she pointed me toward my next literary destination. Her eyes lit up as she talked about the private collection of Chester Beatty. I remembered seeing it noted as one of the free attractions in Dublin (and who doesn’t like free?), but didn’t know the details. She pressed her tiny gloved hand upon my arm, and insisted that I go. So I did.

Never ignore the advice of a leprechaun. The Beatty collection is tucked into the grounds of Dublin Castle (also free that day), and Paula and I wandered in and grabbed a floor plan. Sir Alfred Chester Beatty is in fact a native New Yorker who was later named Ireland’s first honorary citizen for his contributions to the country. Room after room displayed original texts, paintings, drawings, artifacts from Japan, Spain, Egypt, Korea. Eyes wide (again) and jaw wide open (again), we spent a long time walking through the collection, and admiring this man. What a beautiful way to share all of his precious collections with the world, and for free. Lonely Planet called the Chester Beatty Library the best in Ireland, and possibly the best in Europe. It has my vote, too.

C.S. Lewis Reading Room, McClay Library. Courtesy of QUB.

McClay Library, CS Lewis Reading Room, Queen’s University, Belfast. Again, on the advice of a good-natured Irish citizen, I found my way to the McClay Library at Queen’s University. Walking onto campus with my friend Nacho, he pointed out the greenhouse, and the gym in the distance. He mentioned the old library and the new, and I said, “we have to go to the new one.” He raised an eyebrow and said .. “you want to go to the library? Now?”

On the flight from Chicago to Dublin, my Irish seatmate Alan took note of the book in my lap and my interest in Belfast, and recommended the McClay Library. With a personal connection to it’s history and endowment, he mentioned that I should see the C.S. Lewis Reading Room … with the map of Narnia … and the door fashioned after the wardrobe. Again: eyes wide, jaw open. He chuckled and handed me his business card, in case I needed an in once I arrived. With a smile he turned and said, “I don’t think you’ll have any trouble.”

And I didn’t. Nacho announced us as a pair of study abroad professionals and the librarian opened the glass partition. The smell was new: new desks, new carpet, new gigantic Dell desktops. Students everywhere, studying for exams, not paying us any attention. Up the stairs and pushing through double doors, there was the reading room, guarded by a hand carved wooden door and standing open. Huge book nerd moment. You could practically see the lamppost in the distance, the snow gathering at the door. In the very modern circular room, a smooth glass tabletop protects a map of Narnia, and C. S. Lewis quotes adorn the walls. With the light dying outside the window, we had to move along .. get on to the Christmas market before the White Witch came calling.

Russell Library, NUI Maynooth. Courtesy NUIM.

Russell Library, National University Ireland Maynooth. This last one, a true bonus. While visiting the NUI Maynooth campus, my dear guide Jodi led me into another brand new library – just opened the day before. While winding our way up the stairs she narrated the history of the place, and I confessed my life as a book nerd. She laughed, and mentioned an older, much older, library on campus .. we’d need an appointment .. would have to call ahead .. but maybe. Call it the luck of the Irish, but we were admitted later in the day.

Stowing our bags, coats and malicious intentions towards books at the entrance, we walked upstairs and were asked to sign a guestbook. When I turned around, I was rewarded with a room that resembled it’s longer cousin in Dublin, with the air of the academic, and far less pomp and circumstance. High ceilings and short shelves with a wide table along the middle. This library clearly used more often, with foam book rests scattered about: You could picture a researcher here with white gloves, carefully turning pages. We saw family bibles more than a foot tall and as wide as my hand, tiny books with white cloth ribbons holding the bindings together – small bows along the spine like shoelaces. No mythical creatures hiding in the stacks, no swish and flick of a wand over a text. But it was magical all the same.

How to Spot a Leprechaun

While in Ireland this last week, I was amazed by the hospitality and friendliness of every Irishman and woman I encountered. From cab drivers to B&B owners to complete strangers, it was an absolute joy to navigate the country. With only ten days under my belt, I may be overstating my expertise, but I’m going to go ahead and give you some pointers on how to spot a leprechaun. In my own short experience, I believe I encountered a total of four.

7 Points on How to Spot a Leprechaun

1. You won’t spot them, they’ll spot you. Only after you’ve engaged in conversation will they really show their true (green) colors.
2. Chances are, they speak native Irish (Gaelic). If not, they will still have a strong Irish brogue that is downright charming.
3. Vocabulary and phrasing will be straight out of storybooks. They will be quick to compliment you with a “good on ye” or a brilliant, contagious smile and a crystal clear laugh.
4. They are inherently tiny folk. Or, I’m just a tall American. I’ll also note that although the ones I met were older in age, they were not world-weary, but positively full of life.
5. A history lesson is an addendum to any conversation. Leprechauns are well versed in the history of the world, their country and their people. The best part is their willingness to share this with you. They are never condescending or better than you, they just want you to be informed.
6. Are you lost? Tired? Need a suggestion? Have a question? Help is on the way. Leprechauns employ a divine radar that tunes them in to exactly your problem, whether you voice it or not.
7. Like a true fairytale character, they are quick to appear and disappear. Often, leaving you wondering if they ever existed at all.

For my own leprechaun encounters – one was famous, two were nameless and one presented a business card so I can prove his existence. The famous one is known affectionately by locals as Michael D., and officially as Michael Daniel Higgins, President of Ireland. He and his wife Sabina joined the Forum on Education Abroad conference last week, and he shared some beautiful thoughts on the future of education, and the Irish language. He walked through the crowd (at just under shoulder-height) and shook hands with everyone. When I mentioned him to locals, everyone knew his personal history from grade school to lecture at NUIG. Damn sure, Michael D. is a leprechaun.

The business card is from a gentleman in Belfast who revealed to me one of the latest secrets of Queen’s University. The recently appointed McClay Library boasts a C.S. Lewis Reading Room, including a replica of the wardrobe door to Narnia, and a map on the table within. My bookishness was made more obvious by the copy of the Cloud Atlas in my lap, but it did take a bit of leprechaun’s intuition to point me in the right direction. Thank you, Alan!

The two nameless leprechauns were both tied to transportation: one waiting for me at a bus stop, another waiting for me on a bus itself.
– The first, a soft-spoken woman with a lilting accent and an affection for travelers. En route from Donnybrook to the outskirts of Dublin, she pointed out buildings and recited local history just above the roar of the engine. Before I knew it, she was off the bus and I pressed myself to the window like a child – trying to find her on the sidewalk (failed).
– The second, at the 8 o’clock hour en route from Galway to Dublin. A quiet old man with a taste for storytelling and a patience for my questions. How do I prove his existence? He wrote out Irish phrases for me, at my request. His smile stayed with me as I boarded the plane, and remains in strong cursive on a notebook page.

Go raibh maith agat to my Irish friends .. mythical and otherwise.

Before you go to Belfast

When preparing to go to Northern Ireland, I think about the practical things: using pounds instead of euros, how to get from place to place. It’s also necessary to bear in mind the politics and the history, both recent and ancient.

As Lonely Planet points out, Belfast was “once lumped with Beirut, Baghdad and Bosnia as one the four ‘B’s for travelers to avoid.” Why? Many people would point to the IRA, the bombings, the Troubles. As so many cities often do, Belfast is moving on and building up – starting with the celebration of the Titanic. Celebrate a sunken ship? A doomed voyage? Aye. “The Titanic Experience” is an exhibition focusing on the epic timeline from conception of the ship to recovering the wreckage. It’s something I will miss, given the timing of my quick visit North – but an interesting piece of Belfast history.

photo courtesy of myguideireland.com

When my students came home last summer from a month-long tour of Ireland and Northern Ireland, I was not sure what to anticipate. As with any first time returnee – I expected “awesome,” “sick,” “amazing” in response to my questions. What I actually received in return for my questions, was very different. The group of fourteen girls had met with locals who lived through the Troubles and as a result, learned more than they could have possibly imagined. Some turned to Ireland as heritage seekers, looking to the Aran Islands as the departure point for a grandparent or family member. Others turned to the country as a platform for their course: Intercultural Communication. To my knowledge, not one was expecting lessons in conflict resolution – but this is what they found on the Emerald Isle.

I hope to see the murals that my students photographed so much. Wikipedia reports that almost 2,000 murals have been documented since the 1970’s. I gravitate toward images and art as a people’s expression of time, and am looking forward to seeing these images up close. Both nationalist / republican and unionist / loyalist present colorful propaganda that I’ve read about in the weeks leading up to my trip.

Photo courtesy of Belfast resident Liam Moore via http://ow.ly/fxUJy

For a far more visual take on the Troubles, I watched the 1993 film In the Name of the Father with Daniel Day Lewis. Even now as he plays Abe Lincoln on screens across America, he played Gerry Conlon in this film, a wrongly convicted Irishman who served as a face for a revolution. Based on a true story, it is both fascinating and terrifying (and not so bad for a movie made in the 90’s!). Click here for a YouTube trailer.

On a far lighter note, Belfast also holds for me a dear friend and two years worth of catching up to do. So while I anticipate a far less historical visit than I first imagined, it will be my first touch with this controversial place – and surely not my last.

In search of craic

What’s the craic?

The best thing about this word is it’s spelling versus it’s actual English pronunciation: crack. This is why there’s a disclaimer at the bottom of the primary Urban Dictionary entry: “Note: Very tricky to get away with saying this in the US without getting strange looks [from] police officers.”

Craic is a term used in Ireland to describe everything from a great party to good conversation. We have several students in Ireland now and at least one has made a reference to the word in her blog. It is sprinkled throughout literature and used heavily in travel guides. It is one of the true words that say many things at the same time, without trying.

As you know, I’m off to Ireland in just two weeks. I’ll be headquarted in Dublin for my conference – The Forum on Education Abroad: “Reinventing the European Experience: Culture, Politics and Diversity in U.S. Education Abroad,” held at University College Dublin. Taking the opportunity to do some site visits with our international partners and (hopefully) see some of our students, the majority of my time in Ireland will be in the capital.

Of course it didn’t take long for the traveler in me to kick into high gear and demand exploration of further reaches of the island. Ireland itself is quite manageable, thanks to a public transportation system easily linking Dublin to other cities. With my work week bracketed by two weekends, I hope to take advantage of both north, and west coasts.

BELFAST, United Kingdom
Navigating to Northern Ireland appears easy, with buses and trains from the city. I hope to spend my first weekend in the city of Belfast, although it will be a short one. I have been reading endlessly about the Troubles, from the late 1960’s to the mid 1990’s, an intense political time in recent history. The challenge will be finding a nonpartisan view of said events between Catholics and Protestants. Fingers crossed a recommended local guide is available for a tour and some storytelling.

GALWAY
Points west lead to one of Ireland’s most massive tourist attractions: the Cliffs of Moher. When my last group of students was preparing to leave for Ireland, I saw so many photos of this stunning vista that I quickly found myself wanting to see it with my own eyes. The city of Galway is the largest in the West at a population of 72,000+, and is home to University College Galway, where it’s said a fair share of students are pursuing studies in the Irish language.

While I will be skipping the Blarney stone and the outlying Aran Islands, I hope slide around the tourists to get a glimpse of true Ireland: craic, rain and all.

photo courtesy of cliffsofmoher.ie