If per chance you find yourself stuck in Dublin, and I hope that you do dear reader, fret not. Don’t just give up hope and hit the pubs, no, no it’ll be fine. Grand even. Turn around, put down the Guinness, and back away from the smiling bartender. He just wants your money and he doesn’t care about your happiness, not like I do. That’s right, out the door, hustle and bustle and down the street we go…
There’s a whole lot to do here on a casual, stranded weekend; what are you in the mood for? Sports fan? Well the Irish are absolutely avid soccer fans. Soccer? What?? Oh your from the States and haven’t heard about the silly game where people use their feet and not their hands? That’s alright but please be sure to get yourself integrated with the strange competition before you attempt to hold a conversation with an Irishman. Otherwise be prepared to feel your face redden. Luckily, there are a lot of soccer integration opportunities to be had in Dublin. I was fortunate enough to catch the Ireland v. Sweden World Cup qualifying match in Dublin’s spectacular Aviva Stadium on this Friday’s brisk evening. The stadium in itself was a spectacle, its structure was reminiscent of rolling hills with the far end’s ceiling dipped down to showcase a beautiful view of Dublin at dusk.
Quite picturesque. I’ve been to several MLS games back in the States, mostly New England Revolution games, but I was quite taken aback by the tangible energy felt inside the stadium. The Irish proved why they are world class fans; it was very refreshing to feel an entire nation get behind their team. They were always respectful to the Swedes and never disparaging even after the Ireland team, even as they were losing in the final moments. In recent years, I’ve been drawn more to the energy of a live concert as opposed to a sporting event, but this kind of revelry I could really get used to. Ireland played with a whole lotta heart, but in the end were bested by Sweden and their star diva, Zlatan Ibrahimović, 2-1.
So now it’s Saturday and you’re still stuck in the city, huh? What to do, what to do… Maybe you fancy yourself a fashionista. We can appease that here in Dublin. How bout going down to the Dublin Fashion Festival like four very comfortable men (Will, Collin, Connor, and myself) and one very brave lady (Anna) did on Saturday afternoon? The event, marketed as one of several “guerrilla fashion shows” around the city, was a street-side runway showcasing both the latest and greatest of Euro-fashion and the tallest and most slender of European women; it garnered quite the swarm of curious Grafton St. fashion gurus. Collin, Will, and myself also boarded a furnished bus parked next to the runaway and received some dangerously dapper white sunglasses, as well as a big bag of swag. I’m talkin’ makeup remover, wrinkle cover up, you name it and we have a lotion for it now. We watched the show unfold for a few minutes, but as only an amateur fashion dabbler however, my mind quickly flickered to the next adventure of the day: The Irish Craft Beer Festival. Images of foamy pints interspersed with brisk stabbing stilettos cutting down the runway began to frighten me, so Collin, Connor, and I made our way towards the RDS center to sample some of the countries finest brew offerings.
Something that you may not know about me is that I am also an amateur beer aficionado. Like many of you, I very much do my best to make sure my life is comprised of as much fashion and hops as possible. So on this Saturday, I was about as close to heaven as I’ll ever get in this lifetime. Well… ok Roger Waters isn’t playing until next week but at this present time and place, I was pretty damn close to heaven, ok? First off, the location for the Craft Beer Fest could not have been more prime. The building was reminiscent of a decommissioned train station; it’s ceilings were towering and held up by two rows of poles spaced out down it’s long structure. It’s walls were lined with sensory treats aplenty; piles of candy, artisan restaurant stands, and cheese plates began one’s journey into the safe and loving world of the Craft Beer Festival. Past the edible delights begins the beer stands, and boy were there beer stands. Recognizable purveyors of the hops such as O’Hara’s and Bo Bristle were present, but I was most excited to try the breweries that I had not heard of before. There were several that I got to sample, but the standout to me was Dark’s brewery out of Kinsale. They had their signature Pale Ale on draft, but their tap was a unique double chambered device, developed originally by Dogfishhead Brewery in Delaware. The first chamber was stuffed full of hops, and the second was piled with ice. Delicious, refreshing, happy times for all. Did the libations begin and end with beer you ask? No they did not. There was a healthy assortment of Irish ciders, as well as the whiskey corner. Yes, the whiskey corner was the happenin’ spot to be. Big shout out to the delicious Teeling Whiskey Co. for breaking out their 21 year for me. Boys and girls, if you like whiskey, these guys will show you a new cosmos of craft. Ending the festival on Teeling’s high note, the three of us cabbed back to the apartments to prepare for the next leg of our Saturday adventure: Jazz.
If there’s something I appreciate even more than fashion and libations, it’s jazz. Quiet Arthur Guinness, hush Louis Vuitton, I said it and I meant it. By now it was getting dark and the souls who find their home in the notes between gathered at the Meeting Place, Temple Bar for the evening’s event: Dublin’s Down With Jazz Festival. Walking into the venue was a lot like stepping into one of the more bougie rooftop bars in SoHo; many a candle illuminated Dublin’s art aristocracy hunched over miniscule round tables drinking exorbitantly priced drinks served by Calvin Klein models. But enough about the hipsters, we were there for the music. The first band we caught was a trio called the Multiverse. These guys were all world-class musical virtuosos, in particular their guitarist Niwel Tsumbu stood out and played with as much gusto as just about any top form musician I’ve seen. Think Jimi Hendrix meets Thelonious Monk, this guy flew up and down the neck like he was holding a hot stick of butter. If the musician is a conduit for inspiration, this guy was the circuit break for the city of Los Angeles. He played relentlessly until the creative juices stopped flowing, and that’s when their set ended. The final band we caught was another trio, named ZoiD with Horns. They were comprised of two horn players and were led by a MacBook Pro-ist who would have fit in a lot better and a Barcelona nightclub. The offensively penetrating and ruthless beats he was churning out were certainly not jazz, and it was too bad he aurally eclipsed the smooth and swanky 1930’s textures being laid out by the brass section. Watching them felt like filleting a wallaby at an environmental
ist convention, and after a few songs in, we decided to leave SoHo, Dublin and patrol the city streets for the remainder of the night.
Ok dear reader, now you can go to the pubs. You’ve yourself earned a pint. And remember, if you happen to find yourself stranded in Dublin, there’s a wide plethora of experiences to be had on a casual weekend. Especially if you like soccer, fashion, beer, and jazz.
-Ted Kammerer
Professional Writing Major,
Champlain College Dublin Fall 2013
Champlain College class of 2014