Pam and I visited the Guinness Storehouse, which is basically a huge tourist attraction for the beer. It’s like Disney World. You wait in line. You move in one direction through different attractions—here’s how the beer is made, here’s how we have advertised throughout our history, here’s how you pour the beer—and you end up at the bar at the top, which gives a 360-degree view of the city of Dublin.
Pam thought it was pretty funny that I posed next to some barrels that read "RAW SMELLS."
Let’s talk about that infamous Guinness pour for a second. Did you know people are very specific about how they pour their Guinness? I guess I knew this a little bit, but the number of Guinnesses I drank before our trip to Ireland I could count on one hand, so it took nine days in Guinness country for it to really sink in.
Here’s a video about how it’s done. The part that sticks out to me, and was a mild annoyance throughout our trip, was Part 4, the fact that you have to wait two whole fucking minutes for it to "settle."
This probably speaks more to my impatience as an American consumer, but in no world do I want to wait an additional two minutes for a beer. It’s tough enough waiting at a bar for a bartender to finally acknowledge you. You’re telling me then you have to wait another TWO MINUTES while your beer sits right there? It ain’t right. Just grab me a Hamm’s, crack the top, and hand it to me.
Pam hated this observation, HATED it, so I stopped rolling my eyes a few days in when we had to wait for the bartender to let our Guinnesses settle. But back in America, I can’t see myself ordering too many more Guinnesses (unless there’s a special and the price is absurdly cheap, which has happened zero times in my life).
I was reluctantly in charge of the map-reading during the trip. When this picture was taken, we thought we were at Trinity College. This is, in fact, Dublin Castle, not part of the college. I am terrible at map-reading.
This is St. Stephen’s Green, a large public park in the middle of the city. It was a nice respite from the hustle and bustle of Dublin.
Another observation that was quickly quelled by my significant other was this: Does the fact that Philadelphia has a few parks like this diminish its value to us? In other words, would I have appreciated St. Stephen’s Green even more if we lived in a city that lacked public parks?
I thought about this first when we were listening to traditional Irish music a few days later. It’s not the first time I’ve heard the Irish Music with the fiddle and the accordion and the flute, etc. Just go to Fergie’s on Sansom St. and you’ll hear it every Saturday afternoon. Does this mean that I didn’t enjoy it in Galway as much as I could’ve? I don’t have an answer to that.
Thankfully, it didn’t RUIN anything. When we heard traditional Irish music, I still enjoyed the fuck out of it. And I still enjoyed the serenity of St. Stephen’s Green.
This is Temple Bar, a bar in a part of the city called, um, Temple Bar. This is where the drunk college kids hang out and throw up in the street at three in the morning. It was fun, if also expensive, to hang out in this area. We also discovered a new favorite fast food restaurant, Apache Pizza (though maybe it shouldn’t be a favorite?) Irish pubs don’t sell food after 10 PM, apparently.
Picture taken 48 hours after landing, when our baggage arrived. Fuck you, Air Canada!
Love,
Joey
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