It's kind of hard to travel to Ireland and not enjoy a pint, it really is. Ireland is as synonymous with alcohol as China is with tea. You can be a teetotaler as a visitor, but that tactic doesn't always sit well with the locals. I'm actually not much of a drinker, there's a Goose Island that's been in my fridge for almost two full years, and I rarely drink to excess. I'll probably drink more on this trip in a month than I will the rest of the year, wedding and other celebrations included. Maybe it's because I didn't drink until I was of legal age, or just that I'm a persnickety beer snob, but I don't drink just to get smashed, never have, never will.
Ireland is famous for its beer, none so more than Guinness, which will get its own cultural/academic journal at a later time, and is perfect for beer snobs like me. My favorite Irish beer has always always been Kilkenny, the creamier and muter version of Smithwick's. I knew my first beer in Ireland would have to be one of the two, there's plenty of time for Guinness later.
So after arriving and meeting up with Dan at our host mother Mrs. Martin's house, we met up with Meghan and Ashley and headed down to O'Connell street, the main commercial and cultural thoroughfare near the city centre. We tucked ourselves into our first pub and all sat down to have our first pint (of many) together.
There's nothing quite like that first experience of something in a new land, whether it's something mundane like going to the post office or eating at a noodlebar, to the completely cultural unique like staying in a capsule motel or attending a bullfight. I'd place having a beer in the mundane category, certainly not on the level of the sublime, except beer is so integral to understanding and enjoying Irish culture. Forgive the phrase, but Irish culture is soaked in beer.
I was profoundly disappointed that my first pint was in the Miller Genuine Draft glass though. Every time I think I'm out of America, they just pull me back in. Look, I understand that American culture has inundated the world, there's a damn Mickey D's and Starbucks everywhere, but do you have to ruin my beer too? Can't I have at least one good thing in life to enjoy free from American imperialism?
The beer was fantastic and the environment even more so. We were among regular folks with soccer on the TV, (Yes, they call it soccer here!), enjoying our pints. There was a familiarity and warmth within the environment even though we'd been there just hours. No "you boys ain't from around here" or uncomfrotable stares telling us to leave their little corner of the world, just "hey, you like good beer, you're welcome here." My kind of country.
Ireland is famous for its beer, none so more than Guinness, which will get its own cultural/academic journal at a later time, and is perfect for beer snobs like me. My favorite Irish beer has always always been Kilkenny, the creamier and muter version of Smithwick's. I knew my first beer in Ireland would have to be one of the two, there's plenty of time for Guinness later.
So after arriving and meeting up with Dan at our host mother Mrs. Martin's house, we met up with Meghan and Ashley and headed down to O'Connell street, the main commercial and cultural thoroughfare near the city centre. We tucked ourselves into our first pub and all sat down to have our first pint (of many) together.
There's nothing quite like that first experience of something in a new land, whether it's something mundane like going to the post office or eating at a noodlebar, to the completely cultural unique like staying in a capsule motel or attending a bullfight. I'd place having a beer in the mundane category, certainly not on the level of the sublime, except beer is so integral to understanding and enjoying Irish culture. Forgive the phrase, but Irish culture is soaked in beer.
I was profoundly disappointed that my first pint was in the Miller Genuine Draft glass though. Every time I think I'm out of America, they just pull me back in. Look, I understand that American culture has inundated the world, there's a damn Mickey D's and Starbucks everywhere, but do you have to ruin my beer too? Can't I have at least one good thing in life to enjoy free from American imperialism?
The beer was fantastic and the environment even more so. We were among regular folks with soccer on the TV, (Yes, they call it soccer here!), enjoying our pints. There was a familiarity and warmth within the environment even though we'd been there just hours. No "you boys ain't from around here" or uncomfrotable stares telling us to leave their little corner of the world, just "hey, you like good beer, you're welcome here." My kind of country.
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