Ok, let’s change that to unique, in case weird has any negative connotations.Some of my exceptional experiences in Ireland:
No such thing as a free meal?
After spending the evening traipsing around Dublin on a live music pub crawl we were cold and hungry. So my American friend and I, who had naturally bonded being the only ‘solo’ travellers on the pub tour, went on a hunt for some hot food, which is not an easy thing to find in Ireland past 7 pm. But at one of the paths just off O’Connell street we found a Thai takeaway place that also had a few tables. As soon as we entered, I was confronted with my first Irish drunk. The middle-aged man, dressed smartly, was clearly off his face. He told the guy at the till, presumably the owner who was doubling up for the night shift, to serve him fish and chips. This is how the conversation went:
“We don’t have fish and chips,” says the owner.
“What do you mean you don’t have fish and chips?”
“It’s a Thai food place.”
“I don’t care if it is. If a customer asks you for fish and chips you serve him fish and chips!”
“If you want fish and chips go across the road. You might find something there.”
“I am not going anywhere else. I want fish and chips.”
“You won’t get them here.”
“How can you not have fish and chips!”
After another round of back and forth, the customer removed a few bank notes from his pocket.
“Take this. I will give you money even if you refuse to give me fish and chips. It is 20 euros, keep 10 and the pay the girls’ tab from the rest,” he slurred. “That all right girls?” he asked us, before wandering out.
We exchanged astonished smiles with the owner, who was decent enough to take up on the angry customers’ word and deduct our tab from his money. And yeah, the food was delicious too.
The sheep show
They say, in Wales and New Zealand, there are more sheep than people. I haven’t really checked up on the stats and don’t quite know whether it applies to Ireland. But there are a fair bit of those furry animals in the country and cattle breeding is an important industry. But I am still lost for reason why they would think that telling us about ‘varieties of sheep’ could be a tourist attraction. It is! On the Ring of Kerry tour, where, with the deep blue of the ocean forming a stunning background, you are literally transported from one postcard perfect sight to another, they have special stop for a sheep show. And it comes at a price: 5 euros! We were herded out of the bus and onto a sheep farm , where we had to stand by a picket fence while the owner paraded his beautiful animals! ‘Baa Baa black sheep’, played incessantly in my mind as the performance stretched on unbearably. They even demonstrated the different kind of whistles they use for different situations: for example, to round them up after a day of grazing. I don’t usually like the use of slang, but the only word I could come up with for this was, Meh!
Singles of the world unite
Being single is not just your marital status, but a whole cult, worthy of festival. The small picturesque town of Lisdoonvarna in County Clare plays host to the matchmaking festival, from end of August to beginning of October, every year. The story is that once the town had its very own railway station in 1887, tourists flocked the mineral spring ‘spas’ they offered. ‘The huge amount of people going there that led to the Lisdoonvarna “matchmaking tradition”. September became the peak month of the holiday season and with the harvest safely in, bachelor farmers flocked to Lisdoonvarna in search of a wife,’ the brochure says. Though I missed the festival by a few months, the banners around the place happily invited all the single people for it. They do promise song, dance and good craic. And a happily ever after, if you are that lucky.
Games Irish people play
Sure they have their football and rugby. But the sports most indigenous to Ireland are hurling and Gaelic football. Though I only watched a few kids in the park play hurling, which at first sight looks like a hybrid version of hockey, I was able to catch an almost entire game of Gaelic football on television. And I still don’t know how long it’s supposed to last, or how, despite being called football, players were allowed to touch the ball with their hands. It looked like a cross between volleyball and rugby and football. A bunch of us watched it on television in the hostel common room, in Galway, utterly fascinated by what was happening in front of us but none the wiser. It was a bit like that thing we do when in a foreign country; watch their movies without the subtitles.
Ruckus at Ross Castle
There is always a lull that follows a tourist storm.
My Irish friends and I were savouring it, sitting by the edge of the lake and looking out onto the Ross castle, which stands within the grounds of Killarney National Park. The sun had just set and the last rays of light tried to reach out through the purple clouds. The magical setting was perfect to learn about the legend of the castle: The man of the house had leaped out of the window at the top of the castle and disappeared in the lakes nearby. Every year, at a specific date, which none of them were sure of, he, or presumably the ghost, comes back riding his white horse to keep an eye on the house. This might be the right time to tell you that I am extremely squeamish when it comes to ghost stories. Just as my friends were finishing the tale were heard noises from the Ross Castle. Which would not have been unusual if the notice board did not announce that the entrance to the castle shuts at 6 pm. It was well past that.
We nervously looked at each other as another round of human revelry emanated from behind the stone façade. The noise kept growing louder as it reached towards us. Then from the staircase that led to the front door, we saw a figure in white descend. The wedding party followed the bride just in time before I passed out.
Date crasher
Ok, we were not proud of it but we did it anyway.
It was the Champions League final between Barcelona and Manchester United in May, 2011. And my friend from the hostel, which was right next door, and I walked into the pub a tad too late to find ourselves a place in the pub.
Since all the tables, including those at the bar, were occupied so we just hung around one from where we could watch the TV. It happened to be next to a couple, who were possibly on a date but they hardly spoke and the guy seemed more absorbed in the football anyway (and men tend to do). After a few minutes of awkwardness they invited us to join them at the table. Much thanks, say my legs.
The guy, like us, happened to be a Barcelona fan. And as soon as Pedro scored the first goal for the Catalans, the date and our unintended encroachment was forgotten in a fit of cheers and high-fiving.
No such thing as a free meal?
After spending the evening traipsing around Dublin on a live music pub crawl we were cold and hungry. So my American friend and I, who had naturally bonded being the only ‘solo’ travellers on the pub tour, went on a hunt for some hot food, which is not an easy thing to find in Ireland past 7 pm. But at one of the paths just off O’Connell street we found a Thai takeaway place that also had a few tables. As soon as we entered, I was confronted with my first Irish drunk. The middle-aged man, dressed smartly, was clearly off his face. He told the guy at the till, presumably the owner who was doubling up for the night shift, to serve him fish and chips. This is how the conversation went:
“We don’t have fish and chips,” says the owner.
“What do you mean you don’t have fish and chips?”
“It’s a Thai food place.”
“I don’t care if it is. If a customer asks you for fish and chips you serve him fish and chips!”
“If you want fish and chips go across the road. You might find something there.”
“I am not going anywhere else. I want fish and chips.”
“You won’t get them here.”
“How can you not have fish and chips!”
After another round of back and forth, the customer removed a few bank notes from his pocket.
“Take this. I will give you money even if you refuse to give me fish and chips. It is 20 euros, keep 10 and the pay the girls’ tab from the rest,” he slurred. “That all right girls?” he asked us, before wandering out.
We exchanged astonished smiles with the owner, who was decent enough to take up on the angry customers’ word and deduct our tab from his money. And yeah, the food was delicious too.
The sheep show
They say, in Wales and New Zealand, there are more sheep than people. I haven’t really checked up on the stats and don’t quite know whether it applies to Ireland. But there are a fair bit of those furry animals in the country and cattle breeding is an important industry. But I am still lost for reason why they would think that telling us about ‘varieties of sheep’ could be a tourist attraction. It is! On the Ring of Kerry tour, where, with the deep blue of the ocean forming a stunning background, you are literally transported from one postcard perfect sight to another, they have special stop for a sheep show. And it comes at a price: 5 euros! We were herded out of the bus and onto a sheep farm , where we had to stand by a picket fence while the owner paraded his beautiful animals! ‘Baa Baa black sheep’, played incessantly in my mind as the performance stretched on unbearably. They even demonstrated the different kind of whistles they use for different situations: for example, to round them up after a day of grazing. I don’t usually like the use of slang, but the only word I could come up with for this was, Meh!
Singles of the world unite
Being single is not just your marital status, but a whole cult, worthy of festival. The small picturesque town of Lisdoonvarna in County Clare plays host to the matchmaking festival, from end of August to beginning of October, every year. The story is that once the town had its very own railway station in 1887, tourists flocked the mineral spring ‘spas’ they offered. ‘The huge amount of people going there that led to the Lisdoonvarna “matchmaking tradition”. September became the peak month of the holiday season and with the harvest safely in, bachelor farmers flocked to Lisdoonvarna in search of a wife,’ the brochure says. Though I missed the festival by a few months, the banners around the place happily invited all the single people for it. They do promise song, dance and good craic. And a happily ever after, if you are that lucky.
Games Irish people play
Sure they have their football and rugby. But the sports most indigenous to Ireland are hurling and Gaelic football. Though I only watched a few kids in the park play hurling, which at first sight looks like a hybrid version of hockey, I was able to catch an almost entire game of Gaelic football on television. And I still don’t know how long it’s supposed to last, or how, despite being called football, players were allowed to touch the ball with their hands. It looked like a cross between volleyball and rugby and football. A bunch of us watched it on television in the hostel common room, in Galway, utterly fascinated by what was happening in front of us but none the wiser. It was a bit like that thing we do when in a foreign country; watch their movies without the subtitles.
Ruckus at Ross Castle
There is always a lull that follows a tourist storm.
My Irish friends and I were savouring it, sitting by the edge of the lake and looking out onto the Ross castle, which stands within the grounds of Killarney National Park. The sun had just set and the last rays of light tried to reach out through the purple clouds. The magical setting was perfect to learn about the legend of the castle: The man of the house had leaped out of the window at the top of the castle and disappeared in the lakes nearby. Every year, at a specific date, which none of them were sure of, he, or presumably the ghost, comes back riding his white horse to keep an eye on the house. This might be the right time to tell you that I am extremely squeamish when it comes to ghost stories. Just as my friends were finishing the tale were heard noises from the Ross Castle. Which would not have been unusual if the notice board did not announce that the entrance to the castle shuts at 6 pm. It was well past that.
We nervously looked at each other as another round of human revelry emanated from behind the stone façade. The noise kept growing louder as it reached towards us. Then from the staircase that led to the front door, we saw a figure in white descend. The wedding party followed the bride just in time before I passed out.
Date crasher
Ok, we were not proud of it but we did it anyway.
It was the Champions League final between Barcelona and Manchester United in May, 2011. And my friend from the hostel, which was right next door, and I walked into the pub a tad too late to find ourselves a place in the pub.
Since all the tables, including those at the bar, were occupied so we just hung around one from where we could watch the TV. It happened to be next to a couple, who were possibly on a date but they hardly spoke and the guy seemed more absorbed in the football anyway (and men tend to do). After a few minutes of awkwardness they invited us to join them at the table. Much thanks, say my legs.
The guy, like us, happened to be a Barcelona fan. And as soon as Pedro scored the first goal for the Catalans, the date and our unintended encroachment was forgotten in a fit of cheers and high-fiving.
No comments:
Post a Comment