Invading Dublin!

Part 3 A perfect Guinness and a disastrous pub-crawl

Let’s see where did we leave off last time? Ah … right, I remember (basically I just scrolled back). After a great and free tour (both Martina and I had tipped the guide Kieran €5) through Dublin we went off to meet our gang of yesterday. We had agreed to meet each other at the Guinness storehouse after our respective days of sightseeing. So about 25 minutes later (during which it had started hailing) we reached the Guinness Storehouse. And if you are curious to the state of my feet at this moment, well they were still cold and shivering in my soaked socks inside soaked shoes.

Now during the trip and also in the Guinness storehouse I had seized every opportunity to step into a toilet to take of my shoes and socks, wring the socks out and stuff my shoes with toilet paper in the hopes that some of the water would be soaked up by the paper. This did ruin my socks, but after every stop I would be ok … for a while. As soon as we met up with our gang we started our walk around the storehouse.

Basically we were shown the complete history of Guinness. How the ale and stout was brewed, who the founder was as a person and what he had done for the factory and the people of Dublin. Later on we also viewed the process of barrel making (a very old and interesting craft requiring good wood-working skills) and the way their marketing had developed over the years as well as their transport methods. After experiencing the tasting room where we could smell all the different distinct aromas of the Guinness ingredients and where we were taught how to taste Guinness like proud men. It was not a difficult lesson for me. Step 1 stand up straight with squared shoulders (I always walk and stand up straight) and a proud look in your eyes (I just pretended to be a nobleman). Step 2 lift your arm with glass to a height where the glass is just below the lips (“Your drink comes up to you”, the instructor said, “not the other way around”). Step 3 drink with big gulps (to get past the foam) while taking time to swirl the mouthful of stout around in your mouth to get all the flavors picked up by your taste buds. I have to say that the exercise left me feeling a different man :P. When our group moved on after a wonderful tasting experience we got to the part of the exhibition/tour where most visitors had looked forward to since entering the storehouse. The moment where we would learn how to pour the perfect Guinness that we would be allowed to drink later. So how do you pour the perfect Guinness? Well for starters you hold the glass at a 45 degree angle to the nozzle and you open it completely towards you (if you don’t you might get more foam than stout). You keep pouring until it reaches the Guinness logo. At that moment you close the nozzle and you let the stout settle (you let the gasses separate and the foam form). When the stout is settled you move on to the last step adding to your pint until the foam is nearly spilling over the glass. This gives you a perfect Guinness. And now you can drink it down ;)

Now there seemed to be one more part to the storehouse. It has a very nice and high upper bar/enclosed roof terrace that gave a stunning view of Dublin and the surrounding landscape. And on the glass were written more facts about places (of the city) you could see in the distance. A lot of times a member of the Guinness family was connected with the place of interest. Our group spent a lot of time looking at the beautiful panoramic vista. I paid particular interest in the sky. The sky was a composition of light and dark. Clouds and places of clear sky mixed with areas where the light of the sun’s rays pierced the clouds created a stunning display of the aforementioned light and dark. While enjoying this show and the Guinness in my hand, which I drank sitting up straight watching proudly at the show before me and occasionally adding to the chatter of my companions I had a great time. But the show wasn’t over! It seemed Dublin still hadn’t seen enough water that day. In a stunning few moments we witnessed a curtain of rainfall approaching the city from the mountains in the distance. With only a little imagination one could see a large host of riders approaching the city in a quick gallop on the wings of the wind. When it had reached the building rain and hail combined tapped the glass of the terrace in a rapid rhythmic dance. And as quick as it had come it was gone again to make way for the arrows of Apollo giving color to the sky and mountains in the distance as the sun was setting and brought to us a beautiful show of colors and once again the contrast of light and dark. Now in the meantime most guests had already left after quaffing a few pints and pointing out a few interesting landmarks to their mates as if they were totally unaware of the great show they had missed. We however stayed a little while longer enjoying a few partially filled glasses of Guinness left by owners who had clearly had enough. When the sun had set we finally too set out to leave the storehouse in order to round up some food for dinner after some of us (not me) had bought a few expensive mementos from the storehouse.

We ended up at another Irish pub and if the day had ended there it would have been a perfect day despite my cold and wet feet. The food was great. Emily and I enjoyed a nice vegetarian burger with the essentials on a burger and with fried chips on the side the boys Seb and Paul had ribs and mussels respectively while Martina enjoyed a vegetarian dish as well. I am still surprised that I wasn’t the only vegetarian on the trip. And while we were happily munching and savoring our food with our taste buds our ears were treated to wonderful live music. It was a band that played traditional Irish music. In other words Celtic sounds filled the pub; lively and beautiful music. The traditional percussion instrument, flute and some kind of bagpipes were used where the player didn’t have to blow through actual pipes but varied tones by alternately covering holes of a flutelike pipe added while pumping air through the instruments employing two bags. While we were having the time of our lives Emily sent a message to the girls from the organization to inform when the pub crawl would start. Since we got no reply we decided to leave in order to increase our chances of participation.

It was the biggest mistake of the entire trip. Why leave a warm place with great music if you’re enjoying yourself? Well for me the reason was that I wanted to go on the pub crawl I paid ₤20 for. It would be fine I told myself. After a warm shower at home, some dry socks I would be ready to survive the pub crawl. Fate however had something different in mind. On the way home (we were passed the halfway point) we met the company that was just going out on the pub crawl. It was at that moment that I made mistake number two. I decided to leave my buddies to go on the pub crawl that would haunt me the rest of my life as one of the worst experiences of my life. My feet were cold and by this point cramping as well. But I had paid money for it, so I wanted to see it through. Yes I know, I’m stubborn like that. Now to be fair the following tale of woe was not solely the fault of the organization although they had failed to give the time through clearly and gave a lot less than was promised in my opinion, but more about that later. Now before each stop a very loud (I assume Irish lad) announced where we were going next, how long we would stay and what we could get there. At the first place we stopped we got a free shot. It was the best stop on the pub crawl. A live band played in the style of Mumford and Sons. It was lively and warm and the music was enjoyable. When we left I thought: “maybe this will not be so bad. If we will get at least the free drinks promised in the brochure, I might still enjoy it.” When the loud Irishman introduced the second place though, I started to notice something. It was probably due to the fact that I hadn’t been drinking as much as the rest, as we only had one free drink up to that point and my money had been blown at the storehouse and restaurant afterwards so I couldn’t pay to get other drinks. But in the introduction I heard nothing about free drinks. He loudly yelled about great deals we would get, but I noticed straight away that these were similar to the prices my group of palls had paid on our first night out. What swindle was this! I was thirsty, could not pay for drinks, would not get the free drinks promised and after requesting help in finding an ATM received none. After reaching the third pub (we got one other shot and as it would turn out the last free drink), which was supposedly the bar from “ps I love you” me and my feet were miserable. It was also partially a dance club and I decided to move on the music I didn’t know just to get warm feet. Just when I thought things could not possible get worse we left for the last stop of the night: a nightclub. Now if you are anything like me and completely sober to boot do not enter a nightclub where a dj plays the latest and hippest tunes especially if you have no money to leave your coat at the coat room or to pay for refreshments. I cursed every part of the crawl, the organization while I wandered around the club between the two different main rooms and the upper levels of these. One was clearly a smoking area where all the lung defiling fools were jumping and puffing and drinking. The other was the main room where a dj blasted music that assailed your ears and gave you a headache if you were unable to get used to it to the point that you could ignore the worst and go with the flow even if it was just to get your feet warm.

However after a while I was completely parched. I still thank God, for giving me a good brain and my parents and teachers for developing it. It gave me the idea of just asking for water. And after quaffing a few glasses down to get rehydrated I decided it was time to make my escape from this terrible prison that was called being part of the hip and popular people. I searched out the organization only to discover they had left us earlier. Like a bunch of commanders leaving their host to the mercy of a much larger one in order to make their own escape. I got even more pissed than I was and decided to leave on my own when I ran into Richard. A quiet soft-spoken Frenchman I had become acquainted with on the journey to Dublin. It turns out he had had enough as well and we decided to go to the hostel together. Guided by the homing beacon (the spire) we quickly located O’Connel Street and from there it was easy to find our way back to the hostel. By the time we got home though it was past 3 AM and I was walking as someone half cripple, stumbling on cramped, half frozen feet.

When I finally reached the shower and took my socks off to “inspect the damage” I saw a pair of white-soled, wrinkled, sorry excuses for feet. I spent at least 5 minutes rubbing them with paper to get some feeling back before I stumbled into the shower to stand as a miserable wretch under the (thank God) warm water while singing Bryan Adams’ “Sound the Bugle” from the movie Spirit. After about the 10th repetition I stumbled out again, dried, clothed, brushed my teeth in a hurry and sped to my bed as fast as my, still aching, feet could carry me. I have to say I have probably never felt more grateful for being able to lie in a bed. I spared little thought to tomorrow as my mind drifted off to escape the horrors of the pas night in my dreams.

The next day luckily proved to be a nice enough conclusion to my adventurous trip to Dublin. Until the next time!