Irish Adventures Part III
Ready for some more Irish observations? I'm not. First, I should offer up three cheers for The Deuze on his graduation this weekend. No Guinness was consumed in his honor. Instead, whiskey. It was the first drink I've had while here that wasn't Guinness, but it had to be done. I thought about drinking a car bomb so as to toast all graduating peoples at once, but decided it would be best to enjoy both my whiskey and my Guinness rather than tainting each with the other. So, here's to you, The Deuze.
And now, on to the observations/stories:
On Friday I found my new favorite pub in Ennis. Having grown weary of the pub at The Old Ground, I ventured to the other side of town and found Ciaran's Bar. I knew it was a local place when I walked in and found only middle aged businessmen in suits throwing back pint after pint of Guinness (and yes, Budweiser). (Another solid indication, though, is the fact that I can't find a website for the bar.) I sat at the end of the bar and had three pints myself before heading off for some dinner.
Saturdays, even in a small Irish town, are quite exciting. Absolutely everyone was out walking the streets of town. Tables and tents were set and pitched as the streets became a bustling market of all sorts of goods. Was it the beautiful weather that made this happen? Definitely, and I'm glad I was able to experience it.
Irish towns have lots of pubs, yes, but they also have lots of butchers. Pubs and butchers, pubs and butchers. That's all I saw on saturday. Butchers I didn't even see during the week (I believe Saturday is "butcher day" or something). Apparently the thing to do in Ireland on Saturday is buy some fresh grillables and then take them home and boil them. Afterwards it's off to the pub for a pint of (you guessed it!) Budweiser. Or Guinness, but I've seen just as many men drinking Bud as I have Guinness.
Sunday was quiet. I went to mass across the street from my hotel at a pretty-though-not-breathtaking traditional Irish Catholic church. No music. No singing. Just the mass. I think it took about 35 minutes. But it was nice, and I didn't have any trouble understanding the priest.
The streets were dead on Sunday, so I wandered back to Ciaran's and had a few quiet pints and watched a European handball match between some Irish teams. There was an older guy watching the match as well (everyone else in the place was watching horseracing) and he and I bonded non-verbally by cheering for the same team. He clearly felt passionate about his choice, while my decision was based on the names of the teams alone: Armagh -vs- Fermanagh. Both are towns in Northern Ireland. Don't ask me how to pronounce them.
As the game wound down the bar started getting packed with a younger crowd. It turns out that the thing to do on Sundays is drink Guinness while watching the Hurling match between Limerick and Tipperary, the two neighboring towns, in a heated quarterfinal match. As I cheered Limerick on (who wouldn't cheer for a town by that name?), Guinness in hand, I felt like a true local. Well, except the fact that some of the rules of hurling are a total mystery to me. No matter, it was a splendid weekend! I'm thankful I spent it in Ennis.
And now, on to the observations/stories:
On Friday I found my new favorite pub in Ennis. Having grown weary of the pub at The Old Ground, I ventured to the other side of town and found Ciaran's Bar. I knew it was a local place when I walked in and found only middle aged businessmen in suits throwing back pint after pint of Guinness (and yes, Budweiser). (Another solid indication, though, is the fact that I can't find a website for the bar.) I sat at the end of the bar and had three pints myself before heading off for some dinner.
Saturdays, even in a small Irish town, are quite exciting. Absolutely everyone was out walking the streets of town. Tables and tents were set and pitched as the streets became a bustling market of all sorts of goods. Was it the beautiful weather that made this happen? Definitely, and I'm glad I was able to experience it.
Irish towns have lots of pubs, yes, but they also have lots of butchers. Pubs and butchers, pubs and butchers. That's all I saw on saturday. Butchers I didn't even see during the week (I believe Saturday is "butcher day" or something). Apparently the thing to do in Ireland on Saturday is buy some fresh grillables and then take them home and boil them. Afterwards it's off to the pub for a pint of (you guessed it!) Budweiser. Or Guinness, but I've seen just as many men drinking Bud as I have Guinness.
Sunday was quiet. I went to mass across the street from my hotel at a pretty-though-not-breathtaking traditional Irish Catholic church. No music. No singing. Just the mass. I think it took about 35 minutes. But it was nice, and I didn't have any trouble understanding the priest.
The streets were dead on Sunday, so I wandered back to Ciaran's and had a few quiet pints and watched a European handball match between some Irish teams. There was an older guy watching the match as well (everyone else in the place was watching horseracing) and he and I bonded non-verbally by cheering for the same team. He clearly felt passionate about his choice, while my decision was based on the names of the teams alone: Armagh -vs- Fermanagh. Both are towns in Northern Ireland. Don't ask me how to pronounce them.
As the game wound down the bar started getting packed with a younger crowd. It turns out that the thing to do on Sundays is drink Guinness while watching the Hurling match between Limerick and Tipperary, the two neighboring towns, in a heated quarterfinal match. As I cheered Limerick on (who wouldn't cheer for a town by that name?), Guinness in hand, I felt like a true local. Well, except the fact that some of the rules of hurling are a total mystery to me. No matter, it was a splendid weekend! I'm thankful I spent it in Ennis.
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