Ireland: The Publiners of Dublin

Why does it take five Irishmen to change a lightbulb? One changes the bulb, while the other four drink beer at the pub and reminisce about what a grand bulb the old one had been. It’s an old variation of an older joke, I know. But spend a couple of evenings in the pubs in Dublin, and you’ll find that pubs are such an intrinsic part of Irish life, that the joke may well be true. For the Irish drink when they’re happy. They drink when they’re not. They drink in company. And if they’re alone, they’ll have a pint of Guinness anyway.

The Irish practically invented the concept of the pub — the word harks back to the traditional ‘public house’ and its presiding deity, the publican: someone with a license to serve spirits to the thirsty public. Through Irish history, through their dark years of drought and famine, the pub has remained the mainstay of Irish social life. Needless to say, Irish pubs are the best places to be in for anyone interested in getting a sense of Celtic life and culture. They’re also a lot of fun for people who just want a drink.

As we drive to the hotel from the Dublin airport, I realize that one can’t throw a stone in Dublin without hitting a pub. As Leopold Bloom quipped in Ulysses: “A good puzzle would be to cross Dublin without passing a pub”. The rise of the Celtic tiger has spawned many more pubs in Dublin since Joyce’s time. When last anyone checked, the city had over a thousand pubs and counting. Most Dubliners frequent their neighbourhood pubs loyally. Even the Irish prime minister (try pronouncing his Celtic title Taoiseach after a few drinks) who had to move into his posh address in St Stephens Green after being elected to office goes to his local pub for a pint every now and then. Very (re)publican.

But those are for locals. For first time visitors to Dublin, no place is more happening than the Temple Bar district. Named after an obscure Jewish temple few know of, this area, South of the River Liffey, has quaint shops, outdoor food stalls and pubs of course. Arguably one of the oldest pubs in Temple Bar is Oliver St John Gogarty’s, which has been around since 1835. Rubbing shoulders with the more recent Hard Rock Café and about a hundred other pubs and bars, Gogarty’s is perpetually packed.

We order our pints of Guinness (“Oh, so you’re a Guinness girl!” exclaims the friendly waitress) and pore over its extensive Irish menu. Seafood chowder, corned beef and steaks arrive. The steaks are so large they look like they’ve been carved from some prehistoric mastodon. We try manfully but fail to conquer the mountains of food on the table. A floor below, a singer strikes up a tune, someone else picks up a fiddle and soon it begins to sound like everyone has joined in the fun. “U2, Enya, Sinead O’Connor and the Corrs all began their careers in Dublin’s pubs,” says Patrick, my Irish friend, as the spirited crowd reaches a crescendo, “I guess its a crucial part of their training!”

I walk out of Gogarty’s into the sub-zero temperatures outside. People obviously having a wild time spill out of every pub on to the pavement, and I find I’m the only woman wearing all her woollies. Shimmery boob tubes, leather minis and pierced navels seem to be the norm. The next morning’s paper reports that an American teenager on a wild night out got a kidney infection because she exposed her midriff to extreme cold. I wonder if the hot chicks in Temple Bar who were dressed more appropriately for sunny Ibiza read that.

Another frosty day, I go for a walk but the warmth of the overhead heaters of The Ginger Man lures me in. Since the ban on smoking in public places came about in Ireland, most pubs have installed these heaters outside so that smokers can smoke without freezing. Smoking and socializing outside the pub with other like-minded souls has given rise to a new word, slirting — flirting while smoking. I totter out an hour later, warmed to my cockles by quantities of hot, spiced Irish whiskey and a convivial chat with the bartender. Everybody at the pub says they love Indian food, and within minutes I’m having a spirited conversation with a bunch of strangers…did I say strangers? The Irish believe that there are no strangers in this world — only new friends waiting to be met.

A loose set of rules governs these pub friendships: each person buys, or at least offers to buy, a round of drinks for everyone on the table. And the barman is paid as soon as he serves them. So if there are eight people on the table, one has to sit through eight rounds of drinks. No wonder, then, that according to a 2005 survey by Ireland’s Health Promotion Unit, 58 per cent of the drinking done by men in Ireland is binge drinking. As many as 48 per cent of Irish men and 16 per cent women binge drink at least once a week. Not very happy statistics, but look on the bright side — there’s no other way I know to make more friends in one evening

The Irish love it. “We call it craic,” says Patrick, when I comment on the great conversations one seems to strike up in Irish pubs. Loosely translated from Celtic to mean good conversation amongst equals, craic is the hallmark, the raison d’etre of a good pub.

 One pub where the flow of conversation is as plentiful as the Guinness, is Johnnie Fox’s in Glencullen. High in the Dublin mountains about half an hour from the city, this pub was established in 1798. Walking around inside, looking at the sometimes kitschy, sometimes funny stuff on their walls, I get a sense of what Irish pubs must have looked like thirty years ago. It actually has a ‘snug — a secluded area where women in the old days could come and drink unobserved (women weren’t served alcohol in Irish pubs for the longest time — perhaps that’s why so many Irish drinking songs and jokes are about the man going home drunk to an angry wife). Johnnie Fox’s has a superb seafood menu in addition to a whacky decor, and as we dig into out seafood chowders, we realize we’re sitting under what appears to be the largest collection of old chamber pots in the Emerald Isle, facing a carriage that was once a coffin carrier. In the old days, I learn, publicans often doubled as undertakers, as they had cool rooms where corpses and kegs of booze could be stored side by side. We chat with a sixty year old Irishman who spent years working in some remote part of Punjab. Then it’s time to go.

Back in Delhi, I go out for a drink with friends. Slightly inebriated strangers look content to remain strangers, thank heavens. Craic and friendly conversation…what are they? I sigh, thinking of the pubs of the Emerald Isle. They say the grass on the other side only looks greener. But after all those evenings in Dublin’s pubs, I know it actually is.

The information

Where to Drink
There are so many hundreds of pubs cloistered in Dublin’s elegant city centre, particularly Temple Bar, that an exhaustive guide is a near impossibility. The following is a tiny slice of the variety on offer.

* Brazen Head: Founded at the very end of the 12th century (though the present building dates only to 1668), the Brazen Head (20 Bridge Street, 353-1-6795186) lays claim to being Dublin’s oldest pub. It has been frequented by most every prominent figure in Dublin’s history. On most nights fyou can see live performances of Irish music.

* Johnnie Fox’s Pub: Apart from being the highest pub in Ireland, Johnnie Fox’s (Glencullen, Dublin Mountains, 2955657) is known for its seafood and the eclectic collection of old Irish memorabilia. Popular with tourists, it has live traditional music and dancing. Don’t miss the seafood chowder and wild Irish smoked salmon. A meal for two is steep, costing upwards of 40 euro (not including drinks), but worth it.

* Oliver St John Gogarty’s: This pub (Temple Bar, 6711822) is right in the middle of Temple Bar. Go there for the craic. Upstairs Ireland’s vast repertoire of drinking songs is run through with gusto. The Irish musical pub crawl begins here: two musicians guide you through several pubs (you pay for your drinks) and the story of Irish music. Try the soup, evocatively named The Hair of the Dog That Bit You.

* The Gingerman: Many students from nearby Trinity College drop into The Gingerman (40 Fenian Street, 6766388) for a pint. It has overhead heaters outside for smokers, and during the summer, the option of enjoying your drink in the sun (if there is any).

* Thomas Read’s: Spread over two levels, Thomas Read’s (1 Parliament Street, 6707220) is spacious, casual and upmarket. Perfect for a civilised bottle of wine while browsing the papers.

* Horseshoe Bar: Dublin’s powerbrokers gather in the literally named Horseshoe Bar (Shelbourne Hotel, 6766471). The hotel’s grand, landmark building is currently being restored, complete with original 1824 staircase, and will reopen in September.