At the St. James Gate Brewery, home of GuinessSaturday, March 3. 8:00 AM
“Hey Patrick. Hey—Patrick.....PATRICK!”
“What?”
“You awake?”
“Sure.”
“Alright! Let’s go!”
Sharing a room with eight other people requires patience and time management, so while some people from France readied themselves for the day using the facilities, Patrick and I made the jaunt down a flight of stairs for our continental breakfast.
A chocolate muffin and a banana. Being a student traveler: love it.
Back upstairs Patrick slyly dove into the bathroom while I guarded the door. After the both of us were ready, Patrick struck up a conversation with a hostel mate of ours. She was, of course, from Germany, and while I looked at the map, Patrick and this German girl chatted away in their native tongue. Jokingly, I told Patrick I was going to find someone who speaks Spanish so he would be out of the loop for once (as Patrick speaks English/German/French). Mind you, my Spanish isn't great by any means, and after telling Patrick this, the German girl informs me she lived in Chile a year and starts peppering me with questions in Spanish.
“I...um..como...me gusta...yeah, you totally caught me off guard.”
Picking up pieces of my ego as we walked out the door, the sights and sounds of Dublin washed over us.
First of all, Sweden is a lovely country. A lovely country where you don't see the sun for WEEKS AT A TIME. Ireland is a town where it rains. A lot. Not this day. This day gave us an umbrella of blue sky and sunshine. We were set, and with Patrick's killer orientation skills, we walked along the River Liffey, occasionally snapping a picture of the great stone parliamentary structures until we found ourselves at the doorstep of Trinity College.
Trinity CollegeTrinity College, or TC as Oscar Wilde and I used to call it, has a suffocating air of history, with the walls and cobblestone shouting the thoughts and wisdom shared at this institution of higher education. In addition to Oscar Wilde, such minds as Frank McCourt (Angela's Ashes) and Bram Stoker (Dracula) attended TC, which, until the mid 1960s, was an exclusively Protestant college.
After debating whether we could see ourselves as students at Trinity College, Patrick navigated us across the street to St. Stephen's Green. Stepping through the giant stone arch seemed to transport us to a land of tranquility. The park, green in all directions, is bespeckled with fountains and ponds. Stone walls and trees gives off an air of mystery. Old men with canes and laughing children alike enjoy the solitude of “Arch Park,” as I constantly referred to it, much to Patrick's chagrin.
St. Stephen's Green
St. Stephen's GreenPatrick and I then took out the map in an effort to figure out which direction we were facing and to decide if that was indeed the direction we needed to travel to successfully reach St. Patrick's Cathedral. At this time a kind random Irishman inquired, “Where ya lads be lookin' far? Ah St. Patty's. Yes, ye go tru de farst two stoplights and hang a right ye do, can't miss 'er.”
Thank you, kind random Irishman.
From about a block away we spotted the St. Patrick's bell tower. Construction of aforementioned cathedral began in 1190 and though St. Patrick's fell into disarray between the 17th and 18th centuries, Sir Benjamin Guinness, of the famous Arthur Guinness family, put a sizeable amount of charity into the structure, refurbishing the cathedral and laying ground for St. Patrick’s Park.
St. Patrick'sInside the cathedral, the arched ceilings and history artwork was nothing short of overwhelming. Neither the pictures nor my words can really describe the feeling of being in such a massive, holy place.
After I felt my personal pilgrimage was complete, my travel partner via Deutschland and I decided it was time to eat something. The fortifying nutrients of a chocolate muffin and a banana seemed to be wearing off.
While searching for an eatery and walking in the general direction of the Guinness Storehouse, we stumbled upon The Brazen Head. As it turns out, the Brazen Head is the oldest pub in all of Ireland, founded in 1198. Unable to pass up this bit of history (and a chance to sit down) Patrick and I wandered into this ancient structure and ordered a beverage and the soup de jour (potato soup, naturally).
Feeling reinvigorated, to the storehouse we went.
Turns out, hundreds of other people also thought it would be a good idea to check out the Guinness Brewery on a sunny Saturday afternoon. While waiting in line we met an array of characters from around the world. After listening to some kid from New York rant about the poor exchange rate between the dollar and the euro, I started a conversation with a kindly Scotsman who was in Dublin with his wife on vacation. I understood probably half of what he said, but he’s probably one of the three coolest people I’ve ever met.
Once inside, Patrick and I paid the admission fee and were given something of a paper weight for a souvenir and a ticket for a “free” pint of Guinness at the Sky Lounge on the seventh floor.
The Storehouse/Museum turned out to be pretty fascinating, as we traveled the self-led tour, which chronicled the actual process of making the beer (ingredients, machinery, etc) and then gave a history of the Guinness family and their impact on Ireland. Continuing the journey, the fifth floor is a room dedicated to “drinking trivia,” which highlights the origins of many drinking myths and describes in details the effects and perils of alcohol abuse.
After the sixth floor, which gave a history of Guinness advertising, Patrick and I took the elevator to floor #7: The Sky Lounge. Comparable to the Space Needle in Seattle, the Sky Lounge walls are entirely made of glass, giving a panoramic bird’s-eye view of the city of Dublin. There was, of course, a rainbow to the west. What a great day.
“A rainbow! You know what that means, Aaron. An elf and a pot of gold!”
“A leprechaun, Patrick.”
“Whatever.”
After the tour, we simply wandered around Dublin for awhile, chatting about random things. Patrick plans on working for a major corporation with his business degree, which should probably happen considering he’s in the top 5% of his class at his home university in Germany. We talked about the differences between Germany, South Dakota, and Ireland, and after learning the unemployment rate in Ireland is 3% and minimum wage is eight euros ($10 USD), we again contemplate going to Trinity College.
The night ended with Patrick, Jeremy (from New Zealand) and I sitting at O’Shea’s while a man and a woman with a guitar and a violin played some classic Irish tunes, and old men got up and danced a jig when the spirit moved them.
Ah, Dublin.
