I said it with tonal tragedy, trying to explain my initial impression of Dublin...of Ireland. If there's a foreign land that holds my ancestral claim more than any other, this is it...
And wrapping the first day, looking out from the top floor of the Guinness Factory, I felt I'd seen it all. Everything...and it was heartbreaking. I walked home across frigid streets, quickly recalled that time of year and geographic location make for ever-changing climates across the world...
That's when I saw it. Across the street, a small Irish pizzeria...a little wooden sign over the door...
"Steve's - Probably the Best Pizza in Dublin." Now, certainly, I had seen it all.
I took an Ad class or two in college...and though I likely attended something in the ballpark of 8% of the lectures, I fail to recall the comparable bullet point: There is nothing like the Siren Song of indecision and professional insecurity to lure the undecided into your business or establishment.
...
Yesterday, I took a train through the heart of the country and ended up in Galway, a city on the western coast...and it was swell. Swell, I suppose. I walked through town, bought a .35 Euro, "cheat without cheating" McDonald's vanilla ice cream cone(That's what happens on birthdays - you get quoted). Then, I bought a bag of mixed fruit and nuts from a whole foods shop and wandered as far as I could wander...which turned out to be nowhere. Just as my legs loosened, the town ended. There were no bikes to ride the endless coasts...no cliff tours free of hassle. The day faded into a consolation of satisfaction as if seeing both coasts cleared me of the ignorance of not giving this country a fair chance.
I boarded the train for Dublin at the always fateful 6:30, long after my impossible expectations had faded away. And it was immediate, pulling out of the station, the look of Galway Bay...exactly what I had been searching for. Sunset. That ceaselessly stunning paint of perfection stretching across the bogs and channels. The lush, stretching green surrounded by stone fences and rolling hills that I didn't quite catch the first time through. Every moment in that hour, until the sun went down, I found satisfaction, then disappointment...what else was out there? What else was I missing? Quickly though, I decided not to push luck. To salvage this mind is not an easy trick to turn.
...
On my way home, with a thirst to intoxicate freshly inspired, I ventured into the land of Temple Bar. After discovering an inability at the first stop(Madigan's...maybe) to decipher even a syllable of the English genuine Paddy's speak, I moved onto The Temple Bar...in Temple Bar.
When I walked in, it was full. When I walked out, drunks were spilling out its ears. I give attribution to the two man band. The lead singer was immediately named Ricky Gervais. His side wizard of a string-plucker took a lap of thought before I settled in on Soafl Sodef - Strung out and fossilized lead singer of Def Leppard...
Obviously.
And they were most-licious...with an advanced and impressive understanding of how to assault a multi-generational crowd with a near perfect playlist. Sandwich a 4-song Police medley between Mrs. Robinson and Losing My Religion...while whipping out the baby gii-tar...and watch the asses of a nowhere near sober or docile crowd light on fire.
I stood in the back, eyes peering over the heads of the less genetically blessed and became caught in the moment. With a likely gallon of Guinness down and destructing, finally...I got it.
Dublin, Ireland.
