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Have you ever wanted to talk about Ireland, but just couldn't find the right thread for it and were too frightened to start your own thread for fear of leprechaun jokes and/or a thumping lack of interest from your IS-fellows? Well, your dream has finally come true. In response to at least one member's passing interest in the topic, not to mention my own recent trip to the Emerald Isle, I thought I'd open up a wee space here on IS where all things Irish could be discussed, debated and, of course, drunk.
The Cliffs of Moher. I was nearly blown off the cliff edge, clinging desperately onto my friend as we screamed in terror. It was terrific fun!
Guinness is good for you!
I went with a girlfriend for one week to Ireland. We arrived in Dublin on St. Patrick's Day and then she drunkenly told a guy at a bar (I had already told her I thought he looked like a disgusting skeezer) that I needed a kiss, so he took encouragement, the result being that he tried to rape me.
Then we took a shitty train (if you're in Ireland, stick to the buses. They're much better) to Kilkenny, which is a bit south of Dublin. There's a lovely castle there and a ton of pubs and it's generally laid-back and fun. In Kilkenny I had my first and only real "Irish" curry fries.
From there we hopped the bus to Galway. Beautiful, beautiful Galway. We took a bus tour one day which was actually a lot of fun. Eamon the busdriver and I kept shouting back and forth about the show Father Ted, whose fans tend to be rabid and hard to keep quiet. He showed me exactly where a scene had been shot. It's thought that the fictional island from the show is actually based on the real-life Aran Islands, which are also said to be more than worth a visit. I didn't get there, but there is a Tedfest every February! Galway is absolutely the Ireland of your imagination. Yes, it really is that green, really is that friendly, really is that magical. They'll tell you all about the fairy tree rings in the forest. Respect the fey and they'll respect you, although they're always prone to some good-humored mischief. Later, in Galway Cathedral, where I was watching a diminutive friar do his earnest best at singing a few notes, I met a lady named Maureen who gave me taxi fare home and asked for my email address. Maybe she's lonely and wants someone to talk to. Maybe she's a murderer. Either way would be interesting. My friend and I also went to museums and pubs, shops and pubs, and then after lunch we went down the pub.
I love Guinness so very much. Sometimes it makes me visibly sick but I just can't be bothered to care.
Back in Dublin, when we weren't in the pub, we checked out the Writers' Museum. God bless the Irish and their incredible respect for Men and Women of Letters. James Joyce is pretty much the national hero and there's this fantastic statue of Oscar Wilde slouching against a rock wearing his usual, imperturbably sardonic look. Dublin is great, but you can go just one block in the wrong direction and suddenly it feels aggressive, even a little dangerous.
People talk constantly about how much Ireland has changed in the last 30 years and it really is visible, even if you haven't been there to personally witness it all. There are so many immigrants there, so many languages being spoken in Dublin. Gayness is okayness now. What's left of the Church is basically licking its wounds and trying to maintain its few remaining bastions of the faithful. I do sort of wish I could step into a time machine, just to see what Ireland looked like as a truly, sometimes cruelly, Catholic country. The only thing in that department bubbling to the surface these days is the occasional news story about families needing abortions who are still obliged to cross the Irish Sea in order to have the operation done.
Living as I do currently in a place where people are usually very surly, Ireland was a welcome break. The people are warm, funny, patient and appreciate a person who can string a sentence together competently. If you feel obliged to write dirty limericks here, please don't hesitate. Here's an old one:
Any questions? Additions? Ever been to Ireland? Want to go? Have a sheep fetish? Tell us all about it! and ... Póg mo thóin! (Irish for "Kiss me arse!")
The Cliffs of Moher. I was nearly blown off the cliff edge, clinging desperately onto my friend as we screamed in terror. It was terrific fun!
Guinness is good for you!
I went with a girlfriend for one week to Ireland. We arrived in Dublin on St. Patrick's Day and then she drunkenly told a guy at a bar (I had already told her I thought he looked like a disgusting skeezer) that I needed a kiss, so he took encouragement, the result being that he tried to rape me.
Then we took a shitty train (if you're in Ireland, stick to the buses. They're much better) to Kilkenny, which is a bit south of Dublin. There's a lovely castle there and a ton of pubs and it's generally laid-back and fun. In Kilkenny I had my first and only real "Irish" curry fries.
From there we hopped the bus to Galway. Beautiful, beautiful Galway. We took a bus tour one day which was actually a lot of fun. Eamon the busdriver and I kept shouting back and forth about the show Father Ted, whose fans tend to be rabid and hard to keep quiet. He showed me exactly where a scene had been shot. It's thought that the fictional island from the show is actually based on the real-life Aran Islands, which are also said to be more than worth a visit. I didn't get there, but there is a Tedfest every February! Galway is absolutely the Ireland of your imagination. Yes, it really is that green, really is that friendly, really is that magical. They'll tell you all about the fairy tree rings in the forest. Respect the fey and they'll respect you, although they're always prone to some good-humored mischief. Later, in Galway Cathedral, where I was watching a diminutive friar do his earnest best at singing a few notes, I met a lady named Maureen who gave me taxi fare home and asked for my email address. Maybe she's lonely and wants someone to talk to. Maybe she's a murderer. Either way would be interesting. My friend and I also went to museums and pubs, shops and pubs, and then after lunch we went down the pub.
I love Guinness so very much. Sometimes it makes me visibly sick but I just can't be bothered to care.
Back in Dublin, when we weren't in the pub, we checked out the Writers' Museum. God bless the Irish and their incredible respect for Men and Women of Letters. James Joyce is pretty much the national hero and there's this fantastic statue of Oscar Wilde slouching against a rock wearing his usual, imperturbably sardonic look. Dublin is great, but you can go just one block in the wrong direction and suddenly it feels aggressive, even a little dangerous.
People talk constantly about how much Ireland has changed in the last 30 years and it really is visible, even if you haven't been there to personally witness it all. There are so many immigrants there, so many languages being spoken in Dublin. Gayness is okayness now. What's left of the Church is basically licking its wounds and trying to maintain its few remaining bastions of the faithful. I do sort of wish I could step into a time machine, just to see what Ireland looked like as a truly, sometimes cruelly, Catholic country. The only thing in that department bubbling to the surface these days is the occasional news story about families needing abortions who are still obliged to cross the Irish Sea in order to have the operation done.
Living as I do currently in a place where people are usually very surly, Ireland was a welcome break. The people are warm, funny, patient and appreciate a person who can string a sentence together competently. If you feel obliged to write dirty limericks here, please don't hesitate. Here's an old one:
There once was a woman from Natchez
who chanced to be born with two snatches
She said, "Well, oh darn! I would give my left arm
for a man with equipment that matches!"
who chanced to be born with two snatches
She said, "Well, oh darn! I would give my left arm
for a man with equipment that matches!"
Any questions? Additions? Ever been to Ireland? Want to go? Have a sheep fetish? Tell us all about it! and ... Póg mo thóin! (Irish for "Kiss me arse!")
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