Note: this post will be updated and infused with pictures at a later time
I've discovered something that I and virtually everyone else loves dearly: a great irony. After spending a first half of St. Patrick's Day in Dublin, I've discovered that the holiday is about American ex-pats and American visitors. I slot myself into the "ex-pat" category because I'm using the "visitor" category to refer to tourists who showed up here specifically for St. Patrick's, which I am not.
We rose at 9:15am, because we'd planned an early morning kickoff. 66 eggs were purchased yesterday in anticipation of a "Kegs n' Eggs" event to start St. Patrick's Day in our apartment. In another ironic twist, because St. Patrick's Day is a national holiday in Ireland, and no one works, businesses, including alcohol vendors, are not in operation for the majority of the day. There's a further reason for this - in days of yore when stores did remain open, they sold out of their entire supply of alcohol early in the day, much of which fell into the hands of underage drinkers, and the city essentially deteriorated into an anarchic war-zone. Even still, most businesses, shops, cafes, and even some pubs closed early last night in preparation. It reminds me of the way coastal areas prepare for a hurricane, what with everyone boarding and barricading everything up - literally, and then fleeing to their homes or rural parts of Ireland.
Luckily we managed to purchase a fair amount of "groceries" yesterday to have enough for the morning. We served up egg sandwiches for about 20 people, and with the nice weather we were able to open our windows and party until around 12:30. At that point we left for the city center to try to catch the parade. Supposedly 500k non-Dubliners were in downtown Dublin today, so needless to say it was pretty tight going. Nicole and Jaci and I found a place close enough to the road for me to hold up a camera, snap pictures, and tell them what was going on. It lasted about 2 hours. We had to smash up against a multitude of people with tricolors painted on their faces, floppy foam hats, fake red beards, and "kiss me, I'm Irish" paraphernalia.
The big "I hate mankind" facet of this holiday is that young hooligans (in this country, everyone between the ages of 12 and 18 is a free-roaming, vandalizing, misdemeanor-committing hooligan) were out in force today with a new weapon: whistles. "Tell us about the whistles." "The whistles? 'Dey go woo-WOOOO" No, not Bubb-Rub whistles, and not just "Only in the morning." Referee-type whistles, that were blown incessantly throughout the day by Ireland's future prison occupants and single parents.
Anyway, the irony lay in the fact that probably 65% of the parade consisted of marching bands, and easily 90% of those marching bands were American. Auburn University was probably the showcase of the group, with a few other tertiary institutions represented and tons of high schools. I took the liberty of screaming "SEC! Skeeeeeeeew!" as Auburn passed. The non-band part of the parade were people dressed up like psychedelic zombies, bugs, space aliens, and fish that make even the soberest of revelers feel like they're on acid.
Taking into account that despite the size and extensiveness of Dublin's St. Patrick's Day festival, I understand that those of Boston, Chicago, and New York are far, far more involved (they don't dye the river green here, for instance), it seems that in the U.S. St. Patrick's Day is for Americans to act like they're Irish, and in Ireland its a day for Americans to feel like they're at home. There were literally so many Americans on the street today that I felt like I was in an American city. Better still, the preponderance of band members, band directors, and band boosters on the street made me feel like I was at a band competition, an even more comfortable habitat of mine. So in sum, St. Patrick's Day in Ireland is a nice taste of home for us Americans. More to come later.
I've discovered something that I and virtually everyone else loves dearly: a great irony. After spending a first half of St. Patrick's Day in Dublin, I've discovered that the holiday is about American ex-pats and American visitors. I slot myself into the "ex-pat" category because I'm using the "visitor" category to refer to tourists who showed up here specifically for St. Patrick's, which I am not.
We rose at 9:15am, because we'd planned an early morning kickoff. 66 eggs were purchased yesterday in anticipation of a "Kegs n' Eggs" event to start St. Patrick's Day in our apartment. In another ironic twist, because St. Patrick's Day is a national holiday in Ireland, and no one works, businesses, including alcohol vendors, are not in operation for the majority of the day. There's a further reason for this - in days of yore when stores did remain open, they sold out of their entire supply of alcohol early in the day, much of which fell into the hands of underage drinkers, and the city essentially deteriorated into an anarchic war-zone. Even still, most businesses, shops, cafes, and even some pubs closed early last night in preparation. It reminds me of the way coastal areas prepare for a hurricane, what with everyone boarding and barricading everything up - literally, and then fleeing to their homes or rural parts of Ireland.
Luckily we managed to purchase a fair amount of "groceries" yesterday to have enough for the morning. We served up egg sandwiches for about 20 people, and with the nice weather we were able to open our windows and party until around 12:30. At that point we left for the city center to try to catch the parade. Supposedly 500k non-Dubliners were in downtown Dublin today, so needless to say it was pretty tight going. Nicole and Jaci and I found a place close enough to the road for me to hold up a camera, snap pictures, and tell them what was going on. It lasted about 2 hours. We had to smash up against a multitude of people with tricolors painted on their faces, floppy foam hats, fake red beards, and "kiss me, I'm Irish" paraphernalia.
The big "I hate mankind" facet of this holiday is that young hooligans (in this country, everyone between the ages of 12 and 18 is a free-roaming, vandalizing, misdemeanor-committing hooligan) were out in force today with a new weapon: whistles. "Tell us about the whistles." "The whistles? 'Dey go woo-WOOOO" No, not Bubb-Rub whistles, and not just "Only in the morning." Referee-type whistles, that were blown incessantly throughout the day by Ireland's future prison occupants and single parents.
Anyway, the irony lay in the fact that probably 65% of the parade consisted of marching bands, and easily 90% of those marching bands were American. Auburn University was probably the showcase of the group, with a few other tertiary institutions represented and tons of high schools. I took the liberty of screaming "SEC! Skeeeeeeeew!" as Auburn passed. The non-band part of the parade were people dressed up like psychedelic zombies, bugs, space aliens, and fish that make even the soberest of revelers feel like they're on acid.
Taking into account that despite the size and extensiveness of Dublin's St. Patrick's Day festival, I understand that those of Boston, Chicago, and New York are far, far more involved (they don't dye the river green here, for instance), it seems that in the U.S. St. Patrick's Day is for Americans to act like they're Irish, and in Ireland its a day for Americans to feel like they're at home. There were literally so many Americans on the street today that I felt like I was in an American city. Better still, the preponderance of band members, band directors, and band boosters on the street made me feel like I was at a band competition, an even more comfortable habitat of mine. So in sum, St. Patrick's Day in Ireland is a nice taste of home for us Americans. More to come later.
2 comments:
So I forgot to tell you happy birthday, which I am sure ruined your day. But I am thinking that by thinking of it with guilt over the next year ups the amount of time someone is thinking about you, which is really the point of a birthday anyway: being the center of attention. So that's the best birthday gift I could think of, and it was a total accident. Thank me later.
Ha ha Amanda I remembered!!! I don't know Jesse...sounds like a Tumblin Christmas Eve and a rush to the wine and banana pudding. Irish hooligans have nothing on the Tumblin's mixing wine, beer and banana pudding!
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