Going into this weekend, I had a choice. A trip to Spain spent on the beaches with a young female friend of mine (beautiful), or a weekend in Dublin with Chris and Wilson (slightly less beautiful). Naturally, I chose the option which made the least amount of sense, and picked Dublin with the boys. Before you remove your shoes to throw at the screen, in my defense, I had already paid for the Dublin tickets before the Spain choice was offered... I'm guessing a few of you are screaming now, so I'll just move on.
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| The 3 boys on another adventure... Wilson, me & Chris |
After getting through airport security where the racist face scanning machines asked me to 'widen' my eyes, I made a pledge to the boys. The pledge was that we must only consume Guinness as the alcoholic beverage whilst in Dublin, and that we should also tally the number of female redheads sighted providing they were appropriately aged (<25), and fit. The later would be tricky as there were likely to be thousands, but we are men of challenge so decided to take it up anyway.
Flight went without drama, and we took the bus for a 30min drive into the city. First thing I noticed. Wooden houses. It was hardout. Everything else in this part of the world seems to be brick, clay and stone. A great point of difference that reminded me of home. One forgets how much one misses wood. Chris spent most of the bus-time winding us up, saying that he wasn't sure if he had booked a room with 3 singles, or a double and a single, and that Wilson and I would have to share again (for the third time). For some reason, the imagery of Wilson and I sharing a bed, fills Chris with unexplained glee and delight. As it happened, we ended up with a massive room of 3 singles and a double. Wilson did a little dance, but it was getting late so we stopped him half-jig, and headed out to find some dinner.
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| There's a dance move that you can't deny |
Our first little walkabout was interesting. It was dark and oddly colder than London. There's this big spike that sticks out into the sky from the city centre. It's a strange monument. When you stare at it, the only logical thought that comes to mind is wondering how much it would hurt if you landed arse first from a skydive. I don't know why they want people thinking that in the middle of a city. As we approached the city river, I got this weird feeling of déjà vu from being in Amsterdam. I soon realised why. In front of us, was a huge illuminated Heineken logo, down the side of an entire building. The cheeky beggars! Couldn't help themselves. I don't remember seeing any monstrous Guinness placards in Amsterdam???... I was quite disgusted, and couldn't understand why there weren't leprechauns scaling it and attacking with jackhammers.
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| Say what??? |
We stopped and got a slice of pizza opposite a shop that boasted 'probably the best pizza in Dublin'. Don't like boasters. Thirsty for a Guinness, we went off to find a pub. On the way I noticed something shocking. We had not seen a single redhead since landing. It was a little eerie. What was going on? I was expecting a fluff of fire on the head of every second girl on the street, but there were none to be seen. Not even a floating cinder. Where were they?...
We accidentally stumbled into the Temple Bar area, where most of the bars in Dublin are, and found a pub. In every pub in Dublin, they have no less than 3 taps for pouring Guinness. This is because when pouring you have to let it settle at the 3/4s mark before topping up. This was perfect for us, as we were ordering in 3's. The first round went down well. None of us had felt the silky stuff in a while and it was a good feeling. The bars in Dublin are top-notch. There is live music in all of them and they have nice and cosy layouts. There is a bit more of an easy pace to them too, as people are not drinking madly to make the last tube at 12am. They seem comfortable in the knowledge that they are the biggest boozers in the world, and therefore don't have anything to prove. The garden bar was the best, as the open plan allowed the cool night air ventilate the place nicely. There were a lot of pretty girls around, but I'm not sure how many of them were Irish. Was hard to tell as I more or less assumed that if they didn't have ginger sprouts, they couldn't have been Irish... maybe a personal misgiving. At some point in the night Chris got boobed. He was pretty ungrateful and blasé about it, which made me mad. I never get boobed. Not ever. I'm someone that would actually appreciate and cherish it, as a moment, like a family portrait... you know?... After the 4th Guinness we were a little tired so decided to call it a night. At 2am it felt a little early, but we had the whole weekend to negotiate and measure.
Guinness consumed: 4
Redheads spotted: 0
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| Guzzle! |
Saturday morning was rough. The 3 of us were not in a good way. We couldn't believe how foul we felt. We'd only indulged in 4 pints of Guinness a piece, but for some reason felt like we had been accosted by a dozen. So shamed, I thought we probably deserved to be handing in our man-cards. With great strain, we hobbled out and found a cheap an nasty diner, which served 4 piece breakfast with coffee €4.95. The food was okay but the coffee tasted like it had been moped up off the floor the previous night, wrung into the filter and boiled on a billy.
Our first destination after breakfast was Howth (pronounced Whore-th), a little fishing town about 30 mins from Dublin. Was a nice little hideaway with a small port full of boats and trawlers, with fresh fish markets and eateries to boot. We also found the sun, which made it very pleasant for the walking (big on walking), and spent a few hours strolling around and checking stuff out. On the way out Wilson picked up some marinated Salmon off-cut pieces to munch on. Think they were meant for pets and animals, but they were damn nice.
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| Howth from up high |
Our next stop on return to the city was our primary reason for visiting Dublin. The Guinness Factory. Was a bit of a struggle to get there as the weather turned Wellington on us. Battling several mini-squalls, we made it and with our pre-purchased tickets, got in quickly. Was not too bad. Thought it was very much like the Heineken Brewery we went to in Amsterdam, with the branding being the only real difference. The best thing about the experience was the fact that we finally spotted some redheads! At least 3 for sure. Resisting the temptation to walk up and stroke them, we instead admired from afar. I mean these were real real ones. Not the fake ones you see on the internet and at the zoo. It was an exhilarating moment. At the top of the factory there is a cool little bar where you can redeem your complimentary pint and take in a pretty good view of the city.
Guinness consumed: 5
Redheads spotted: 3
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| Where you go at the end of a good Irish life |
We had a reasonable cafe dinner and then headed back to the hotel with the intention of picking up a few cans for a pre-session. Easier said then done. There were plenty of cans, just not many cold ones. We must have stopped at 4 or 5 offies and supermarkets and none of them had the chilled black tar on hand. Defeated, we settled for the warm stuff and sipped away in our room, building up anticipation. It actually made us feel sleepy, but Wilson got us up like a man on a mission and we were soon off.
Guinness consumed: 6
Redheads spotted: 3
In our journey back towards the Temple district, Chris was getting well into the redhead count, jumping up and down in excitement. Some of his calls had to be rebutted and discussed of course as only genuine redheads could be counted. No artificial colouring or flavouring allowed. We made it there, and entered a bar we had scanned the previous night before. It was around 10pm and we ended up staying there all night.
The bar was one of those multi-leveled jobs, finishing with a roof bar up top. The first level didn't have too much going for it so we finished that pint quickly and moved upstairs.
Guinness consumed: 7
Redheads spotted: 9?
The second level was more us. A little more quiet, a little less riff-raff. We took it easy, drank, and absorbed. Recalling the events of the night now is a little tricky, like watching a movie that fades in and out. I know for certain there was a random big dude from Birmingham that started talking to us (couldn't understand a single word he said but we nodded so he didn't crush our skulls), a French Princess who ended up being a Russian Princess (not about race), and at some point Chris yelled out '25!!!' (in reference to the redhead count), though Wilson claimed he had been counting the same girl over and over again. A distinct possibility as the Guinness consumption rate had got slightly away from us.
Guinness consumed: 12
Redheads spotted: 25 (Guinnesstimation)
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| Out of focus Guinness count |
Sunday morning I actually felt pretty good. You wouldn't imagine given our pathetic show the previous night and the fact that we had doubled that effort, but all in all, fine. Wilson on the other hand, said his head was going to explode. Fearing this, we went for a walk to get some fresh air going, and avoid catastrophe. Seemed to work.
We didn't have much time this day as our Air Lingus flight was departing mid-afternoon. We were going to take it easy at a few museums but the first few we went too had late opening times because it was Sunday. This was annoying as the weather was sour again and we were stuck in it. I actually thought to myself, 'I can't wait to get back to London weather'...
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| 'There you go Bob... looks like rain' |
With that unthinkable thought, we left for home, and that was that....
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