When Oirish Oiyes ar' Smoiling

Originally posted February 19, 2004

It’s been a while since I updated but I haven’t had the chance to sit down and recount. But now is the time!  I have finished a commentary on the contemporary artist Arman who, among other things, displays the contents of trashcans, smashed musical instruments, and hundreds of women’s high heeled shoes as his art. It took a lot of convincing, but I actually have found a point to it, and that’s what my paper was about. It’s not just a guy dumping out his wastepaper basket, putting it on a wall and calling it art.  Now that that is off my plate, I can concentrate on recalling my most recent adventures.

So now that the bulk of my work is done, I can take the time to sit back and recollect all that has happened in the past two weeks. It started with my weekend with Jamie. She arrived late on a Thursday night and feared for her life on her Ryanair flight over. That sort of dampened her weekend because I tried to show her the REAL Paris, not exactly what you would see on postcards all over the place. Part of that adventure is riding the metro late at night. We caught a late train back to my side of town from where I picked up Jamie from the Ryanair bus. We encountered the usual number of people talking to themselves, bums preaching about the idiocies of the government, drunk teenagers being obnoxious, etc. These are common sites for my eyes, but, it seems, not for Jamie who I think was looking forward to being safe on the ground and was only met with more crazy people. We checked her in to her hostel, and it didn't seem like that was a very good choice either. Then we met some of the girls from the program at a bar, but we had to leave at 12:30 before the metro stopped running. It wasn’t a very successful evening but I don’t think much could have been after a near-death experience on a flight over.

The next morning Jamie and another girl from W&M went to some museums. We met up later that night and went to a cool restaurant right off of one of the main shopping thoroughfares, Rue de Rivoli, and then walked along the Seine at night. This I do as much as I can and is a must with visitors. Then we walked up Avenue de l’Opéra so I could show her some more famous sites, and we stopped at the Starbucks that just opened here. I think it’s the only one in France. I hope, anyway. Then we went to the Lapin Agile which is a tiny little inn in the red-light district near Montmartre and the Moulin Rouge where Renoir, Picasso, Baudelaire and other famous personages used to frequent. You sit on narrow wooden benches that line the walls of a small, dimly lit room and listen to traditional French entertainment, songs, poems, stories, jokes, accordion playing, anything and everything really. It was all in French and perhaps was not as enjoyable for Jamie. I seemed to be striking out on being a good Parisian hostess. For me, just sitting in the room at the same benches as the artists and poets and looking at the art and poems they left hanging around is enough to make it interesting. The performers were making a lot of jokes about the number of people there who didn’t understand French and how they could say whatever they wanted and no one would know. I had a great time at the place but felt inconsiderate that we had not done something more open to non-French speakers.

After we went to the Lapin Agile, I took Jamie to my favorite bar which is in the Bastille area and we had a drink and talked a little while. This place has the most inventive and reasonably priced cocktails I have encountered in Paris. It also has a great ambiance and humorous owners. We had a good time, then I got Jamie in a cab to get home and I took a deep breath and headed for the night bus stop. The last time I tried this, I got stuck out in the rain for three hours and ended up taking a cab home. I was determined to win this time. I looked at my map, looked at the bus stop, and was there 10 minutes early. I got a little scared when two buses went by that weren’t mine, but finally the H rolled up and I boarded feeling very proud of myself. It was an interesting mix of people and I was on guard, but I think this would be common in most cities on the late night buses. The bus took me practically to my door and I was glad I had conquered the system, but also glad to be off the bus.

The next day Jamie and I met and transferred her to her new hotel, a nice single chamber near the Ryanair bus stop that she was enormously happy to be in. After we dropped off her stuff, we went to the flea market at St. Ouen, the most famous in Paris. It’s gigantic and goes for upwards of 8 square city blocks. After the market we went to the Rodin Museum and Sculpture Garden where we walked around in the beautiful sunny weather. I got us a little lost in the St. Germain quarter, but after a little extra exploration we arrived. I really enjoyed both the gallery, which has Van Gogh’s and Monet’s as well as other less well known sculptures, and the garden. After the museum we separated for a little break before heading to the Opera Garnier to see Giselle that night. We met again at 6pm in front of the opera and waited in line for last-minute cheap seats.

We got them but they were AWFUL seats. We could hardly see 30% of the stage. I ended up hurting my neck from straining to see for so long and then spent the second act standing, but we only paid 6 euros to see a fantastic ballet as performed by incomparable dancers in a beautiful building, so it was worth it in my opinion.

After the ballet we got the mandatory goodbye crêpe and walked to the metro, bid each other au revoir, and went our separate ways. Jamie got back to Spain ok and hopefully with at least some good memories. I spend Sunday at the outdoor market across the street from my apartment and studying. My host mom was unexpectedly called away because her house in the country was robbed. She said it’s not the first time it’s happened either. We have been talking a lot more. I am much more at ease with our relationship than I was before.

The following week I was at home working every night trying to get caught up and prepare for the two presentations and two papers that were due, not to mention plan spring break and post-semester excursions. I was up to my ears in work, but I was (too easily) convinced to go to Dublin on Thursday night to visit some friends of a girl, Patrice, in my program who has become one of my better friends. The thought of drinking Guinness at the actual brewery on Valentine’s day made my decision kind of a no-brainer, so I bought my ticket (on Ryanair which I was a little scared of after Jamie’s horror stories) and worked even harder to be on top of things before the departure.

Guinness Brewery Gate

I am so glad I decided to go. The Ryanair airport is 1.5 hours outside of Paris, and you have to take a bus that leaves three hours before your flight to get out there. I left at 4pm on Thursday right after class and caught the bus out to Beauvais airport, a tiny operation consisting of a few shelters and some heated tents. My flight to Dublin was quick and very smooth. I arrived in Dublin and was met with overwhelming kindness and helpfulness. I found Patrice’s friend (Patrice was coming the next day because she had class) and we went straight to a pub so I could have my first-ever pint of Guinness. I could not finish it, but I really liked it. What we receive stateside is "tainted" with preservatives and jostled in shipping so the true taste is "ruined". The head is an acquired taste which, though creamy and smooth in texture, left an unpleasant and bitter taste in my mouth. It has to be poured a certain way, it has to stand for a full minute to “settle” before the bartender will allow you to drink it. When I stopped for the moment of reverence, waiting for the bartender's go-ahead, and thought it's good to remember that these things should be enjoyed slowly and with a bit of ceremony.

We walked down through a main pedestrian road and a street performer was singing U2. I was on HIGH ALERT, hoping, praying, that somehow I would encounter U2 in their native city. The group has a god-like status here. Clearly it was more than just those kind irish smiles and musical accents that made me feel right at home from the second I stepped off the plane. Also, the stories about Irish green and it being the Emerald Isle are true. I've never seen a green like it before. We got back to the University College of Dublin campus where Melanie lives, planned our weekend, then went to sleep. The next morning I received a hysterical call from Patrice, at Beauvais, who was denied boarding to the airplane because of passport issues, so she had to go home, get some papers, and then return on the flight later that evening. She was so sad and discouraged. Luckily, she didn't give up. I headed out into center city Dublin alone. I took a walking tour that started from Trinity College at noon and it was the best 8 euros I spent in Dublin. The guide was a doctor of history from the college and is the editor of a quarterly history digest about Ireland. He was knowledgeable, funny and interesting. I got a two-hour crash course in Irish history and got to see all the famous sites in the city.

Ha'Penny Bridge, Dublin

During the tour I had made friends with a girl from the NoVa area who just happened to be traveling in Europe and we went to get lunch together at this great little unmarked café we stumbled upon. I had tomato lentil and orange soup which was delicious and different. She had a roast lamb sandwich on homemade bread with apricot chutney. That was pretty darn good as well. Then we walked to the Natural History and Archeology museum and saw all the famous treasures there. The Celtic gold work was incredible, not to mention the artifacts found from the Viking conquest. After the museum we parted ways and I went to the National Gallery to see what Ireland had to offer in the way of art. It is true that the Irish are a proud bunch and most of the paintings were grand displays of that pride. I can't say that's all that different from some of the tableaus at the Louvre, but French artists seem a bit more varied in their subject matter.

After the museum I met up with Melanie and we killed time until Patrice arrived. We stopped in a café, we chatted, stopped in another café chatted some more, then we bought some Cadbury’s chocolate for Patrice, a hopeful panacea for her travel woes. We met her at the airport and immediately whisked her to a pub for her first Guinness, in case the chocolate didn't work. That night we experienced Dublin nightlife. We left around 11:30 pm and went to a bar on the Liffey River, running right through the center of Dublin. It was crowded but fun and after a pint of cider I was ready to dance. It started to get a little too smokey and there wasn’t enough room to dance anymore so we left to go to a more chic and modern club just on the other side of the river called Zanzibar. There we danced and danced till we couldn’t feel our feet anymore, and one guy wouldn’t stop touching my hair, so we decided to call it a night. We got back to the apartment around 3am.

I was up the next morning to run and I found a beautiful park farther away from the campus on a hill which overlooks all of Dublin. I had a great morning, the sun was shining, it wasn’t cold, and the fresh green of everything energized me. The rest of the clan, those who had consumed more than a pint of cider, was not on the same page. But after breakfast they were feeling better. So we got out the door and headed off to Phoenix Park, home of Europe’s largest zoo, and had a great morning watching the monkeys and elephants and other fauna held there. There was a big gorilla fight that I managed to miss but the story goes: mom gorilla had to teach a lesson to the older son who was jealous of the attention the baby was receiving and started to take it out on the little guy. She had to save the baby from the edge of a rather steep incline, get him to safety, and then smack big bro around as punishment.

After the zoo, we went to Kilmainhaim Gaol (pronounced like jail) to learn the finer points of the Irish revolution and see the eerie execution courtyard. Then we seriously RAN to the Guinness factory to get there before it closed and we made it just as they were letting the last tour group in. We learned how its made, saw the ad campaigns over the years, but the capper, of course, was the free pint in the bar that has a 360 degree view of Dublin. We got up there around 6:15 pm as the sun was setting, sat by the window and raised our glasses to being single, in Dublin, and drinking manly beer on Valentine’s Day.

Kilmainhaim Gaol

Valentine's Day pints on the roof of Dublin

After the factory we were less pressed for time so we walked at a leisurely pace to St. Patrick’s cathedral and saw it all lit up. Then I tried unsuccessfully to get Patrice and Melanie to come with me to St. Valentine’s tomb which was only a block away. I thought it would be a very symbolic gesture, given the day and our dating status… oh well. We then continued in to town to the Temple Bar area which is the center for nightlife, pubs, and fun. We searched for a place to eat dinner, Melanie wanted us to have traditional Irish fare, i.e. potatoes and corned beef. Patrice is a vegetarian who sometimes eats meat but not that night, so we went to a nice restaurant where I got amazing guacamole and don't really remember the rest. All is afterthought when guacamole leads off.

St. Patrick's Cathedral

After dinner, it was about 9pm and I had been annoyingly clear for hours that all I really wanted to do that night was hear some traditional irish music live. Melanie took us to a place called Gogerty’s, one of the oldest pubs in Dublin, and they were having a live music night. I was in heaven. We sat down very close to the band, and the warmth and good cheer was infectious. Everyone had their pints in hand and was swaying and singing to the tunes that seemed bred into them. The band was funny and consumed about 1 pint per song, which only added to their talent. The fiddler and the guitarist were ragging on each other and kept me in stitches. Australians and Irish, two nationalities that are consistently funny, charming, fun to be around, and have beautiful accents. They sang Molly Malone, Wild Rover, Finnegan’s Wake. They even had a bagpipe! My enjoyment cannot be overstated.

The band at Gogerty's

Coming off such a huge day, the next morning we took it easy. Then we went into town, dropped off our luggage for the return trip later that afternoon, and went to Trinity College to see the Book of Kells. This amazing book is housed in a beautiful old library of dark wood and high rounded ceilings, creaky floors, and first editions. And don't forget that musty, old-book smell. They had an exhibit of some of Keats' manuscripts and unpublished works. The Book of Kells is an ancient illuminated manuscript of the gospels and before you get to it you can see how it was made, bound, how they derived the colors, how the scribes learned to write the calligraphy, why it was so important, et cetera; an altogether fascinating process and the book itself is a marvel.

Trinity College

After I had to restrain myself at the bookstore from buying a version of Peter and the Wolf because Bono illustrated it, we left and walked across the Ha’penny bridge and into the shopping district where I found some fun stuff but didn’t buy any of it. We took our time and went at a nice slow pace. By the time we got back to the other side of the river, it was time to catch the bus back the airport. Patrice and I thanked our gracious host, and then started our journey back to Paris. This was completed with no problems, but I got home very late, around 1am. I was dead tired the next day, but fortunately didn’t have class until 3.

Dublin really surprised me. Sadly, I didn’t get out into the countryside, but cosmopolitan Dublin delivered. When I packed for the trip I didn’t even think to bring “going out” clothes. I brought sweaters and conservative shoes, half imagining to see green hills and shepherds herding their flocks across roads. Not so much. I'd love to delve deeper into Ireland and Scotland but as is ever-so-sadly apparent, there is not enough time for everything. This week the bulk of my work will be completed, and this weekend a group of us are headed to Brussels to eat chocolate and waffles… I mean…to see Waterloo. Hopefully I’ll have more time to update next week. Thanks so much for all the mail and keep it coming! My host mom is so impressed with how much I’m getting, she tells me often “Tu reçois le courrier comme un ministre!” - You get as much mail as an elected official). I miss everyone a ton and love hearing from you. Until next time!