This one's for Dahlgren

All right, I'm dedicating this post to Adam "Twinkles" Dahlgren, for his tireless encouragement to me to blog. It's been awhile since I posted, because frankly I'd rather DO shit than write about doing it. But I guess I should start with my first night in Dublin...

I had dinner that night at a place called Market Bar, a really cool restaurant in what looked like a converted warehouse on Fade St., which was just a block or two up from my hostel. This was the place that popped my Guinness cherry in Ireland...and my god, is that stuff good. They pour it the same way they do in the States, letting it settle a bit between the first and second pours, but it just doesn't compare. It's fuller and richer than the stuff we get in America, with a longer and less-bitter finish -- it lingers on the tongue like a creamy alcoholic milkshake, teasing the palate with hints of barley, cocoa and maybe even espresso. God I need to stop, I sound like I'm at a wine tasting.

After an amazing dinner of duck confit and lentils, I headed over to a place called International Bar. I got there around 10:45, or "quarter to eleven" as they say over here -- always "such-and-such until -- which is apparently late in Dublin, especially on a weeknight; a lot of places close surprisingly early in Dublin. I had heard they had live jazz and blues there, and a sign outside advertised a comedian at 8:30 (or "half eight") but all the acts and most of the patrons were gone by the time I got there. I ordered a pint of Bulmer's "vintage cider"for 5 euro and headed downstairs, which was nearly as dead as the bar. I struck up a conversation with the cute Spanish bartender, Alba (like Jessica) who had come to Ireland as a backpacker, like me, and wound up staying to work. Eventually I got talking to three Irish guys, Owen (who was maybe 25), Tom (who had dredlocks -- seriously, and Irish guy with dredlocks) and Dermot (who turned out to be an off-duty cop). I told them about how I wanted to visit family in Cork and Limerick, which prompted to Dermot to observe, as nicely as possible, that I looked "gullible" and "like fodder" for the punks and con men in Limerick. (Those are direct quotes.)

Anyway we all got along pretty well so when International Bar closed we headed over to another bar, making sure to stop and piss in an alley on our way there. At this place I met a couple of American students who were studying in Italy. Morgan was the one I remember: very pretty (one might go so far as to say beautiful), blonde, from California, studying comparative literature. We all hit it off and I went with them to the next place (after saying goodbye to Owen, Tom and Dermot) which turned out to be closed, so we all went to what is now my favorite drinking spot in Dublin: the Oliver St. John Gogarty. This is a massive, three-story, family-run bar, well lit, with live Irish music on the second floor. Amid copious pints of Guinness we danced -- like Irish river danced, if you guys can picture that -- and in general had a great night. Unfortunately Morgan and her friends were leaving at 4am so I brought them back to my hostel, where I had that bottle of Patron, and we drank in a hallway outside an emergency exit until it was almost time for them to leave. I went with them back to their hostel to say good-bye, exchanged email addresses and contact info, and made tentative plans to meet up in Amsterdam on 4/20...which I'm not sure I'll be able to do now, but maybe. Anyway, that was my first night in Dublin, and if none of the rest of the nights quite lived up to it, it was only because that first one was so damn good.

Peace
-B