dublin

I have always had mixed feelings about Dublin. Lots of people I know adore the city, but it has never really captured my attraction in that way. It has its moments: I enjoy strolling along the river or the canals, or walking on the cobblestone streets….but it has always struck me as too small, provincial and certainly too expensive for my tastes. Architecturally, it is too close to a small English city, with lots of brick buildings and a dark gloomy feel. The now-over boom of the pervious decade led to some nice blocks of flats being built, but in general, there are still a lot of British-style terraced houses. On top of that, the prices are high even compared to London. A pint cost me between 5 and 6 Euros in the various pubs I went to in the centre, which is rather steep, and the restaurants were similarly over priced, and generally offered far less choice than in London. Some people rave about the “new Irish cuisine,” but I confess it leaves me cold. Of course it is unfair to compare a city of 1.5 million to one of 10 million, but even compared to cities of its own size, I think Dublin stands out for its high prices versus level of quality. You can certainly eat better for less in Barcelona, Lisbon or Rome than in Dublin. Furthermore, while I like intrinsically the pubs in the renowned Temple bar area, they tend to be filled with the Worst of Britain: English people over for stag parties or Hen nights, apparently under the impression that because they are technically abroad, they have a special license to behave like savages. As I was showing foreign friends around the city, I felt like I had to at least take them by Temple bar, but instead of using the medieval street patterns and low ceiling buildings to conjure up images of Irelands famous writers scribbling away in dark corners over a pint of Guinness, I found myself attempting to explain why there were large groups of very drunk English girls with angel wings strapped to their backs, running around semi-naked and screaming in the streets. We eventually went elsewhere to sit down, enjoy a pint, and catch up. There have been efforts to ban stag and hen parties from the Temple bar area, but they have clearly been unsuccessful. If I were Irish, these parties would be just another reason for disliking the English, not that the Irish need to search too hard for such reasons.
But we were extremely lucky with the weather. Although my friends had flown over armed with jumpers and rain gear, it was sunny and close to 30 degrees every day. We spent several hours lying on the grass in St Stephen’s green chatting away. We wandered around the streets until 10 pm, and the sun showed no sign of disappearing. Even amongst the drunken English revellers and the overpriced offerings, it was hard not to enjoy ourselves.