Back in 1759 a man by the name of Arthur Guinness created a dark Irish dry stout at St. James’s Gate Brewery in Dublin. I was introduced to this beer as a child via my parents– who would make black and tan cocktails on Saturdays after mass. Dad taught my sister and I how to use a spoon to pour one beer over another. The way the Guinness rose on top of the ale was like magic to us. Every now and then he’d let us take a sip and I always found it disgusting. Even as I grew into adulthood and could legally order alcohol, I still found no draw to the stuff. But at the ripe age of twenty-six, I was going to Ireland so I told myself I’d drink a glass of Guinness to say I did it.
“You still need that Irish pub experience while you’re here,” Claire says while we’re sitting in the family room. She’s at the desk working on her laptop and having an off-and-on conversation with me about dinner. I’m staring past her, looking out the huge front window at a misty scene. Teddy’s lying on the couch next to me taking a nap.
“Maybe we should go somewhere around the city center. I do still need to get my Guinness. I’ve got to drink one for Gerry!” (Gerry is one of my co-workers– an Ireland native). Claire nods in agreement and looks back at her MacBook. I give Teddy a scratch behind the ear and head upstairs to change clothes. “I’m going to take a walk around and grab some breakfast. I’ll be back in a few hours.”
There’s a bright green building I’ve walked past many times over the past week and I’m curious to check it out. I take a left out of the driveway and head into the neighborhood past the Morton’s grocery store where Claire and I bought lunch the other day.
I step in to Peperina Garden Bistro and look around to see if it’s an order-at-the-counter or sit-down sort of place. One of the ladies bustling around with a high chair tells me to take a seat wherever so I plop down near the front of the bistro. It goes back further than expected but the back of the restaurant looks to be full of moms having brunch with their mom friends and babies. (There’s a plethora of strollers and high chairs about the tables).
After a brief look at the menu, I order an iced latte and a sandwich. I watch more mothers pop in to the shop, pushing their kiddos along in strollers. A man comes in and picks up a to-go order. Some older children come in and get some bags of chips to-go. If anything, the people-watching is worth it.
When the coffee arrives it looks like a milkshake. It’s creamy and sweet but a little more milky than I would have liked. The sandwich is a bit more green than I expected (to put it nicely). I eat it all up but it’s not really what I was looking for.
Honestly still a little hungry, I leave the restaurant and continue my walk through the Rathmines neighborhood. Thankfully there’s no sign of rain yet and the temperature is a little warmer. I trace the streets I’ve come to know over the past week and simply soak in the views.
I don’t exactly know why but I’m drawn to a particular yellow door every time I walk by it. It makes me think of my mom because yellow is her favorite color. Also, I’m 26 years old.
I eventually wander back to the house to warm up and have some tea. Claire has me hooked on the Bengal spice stuff with the tiger on the box. Then I take a walk in the garden. The leaves of all the plants outside the greenhouse are covered with raindrops. Pretty pink rose buds have blossomed and the apple tree is producing a few fruits. The greenhouse is flourishing with all kinds of herbs. I hear the occasional chirp of a bird or a rustle in the bushes from a squirrel. The LUAS tram can be heard passing by beyond the wall.
For dinner we decide to go to Arthur’s Jazz & Blues Pub for a hearty meal. We make the usual walk down to the tram station in the McGuire’s neighborhood and journey out to Thomas Street. The air is damp and chilly but perfect for the good long walk it takes down the cement sidewalk to the pub. After passing blocks of shops and restaurants wafting delicious scents (like a pizzeria) we arrive at a black-paneled building.
It’s actually pretty busy for a Tuesday night but I chalk it up to city life. The hostess writes our name down and we spend a little time waiting by the door for a table to open up. The bar is pretty packed already so that’s not really an option. A couple nearby finishes leaves so we take their places. My back’s to the entrance and Claire’s is to the bar.
When the waitress comes, I order a pint of Guinness and a hamburger. Claire orders a shepherd’s pie. Although she’s been cutting out a lot of animal products in her diet, she had made a previous decision to get meat tonight as a treat.
My Guinness comes in an icy glass and the first sip is cool and smooth. I make a toast to Gerry and take a gulp. Maybe it’s because we’re in Ireland, but it tastes better than anything my dad ever passed across the kitchen island. Claire tries a little bit too so we can both say we’ve experienced it.
I make it about 1/4 of the way through the pint when our food arrives. The waitress refills our water glasses and we thank her as the scents of food waft into our noses. I’m hungrier than I realized and dive right in to the beef patty before me. Claire offers me a bite of what looks like a pot of potatoes; I pass over some fries. She devours her shepherd’s pie and I alternate between my burger and beer.
With our tummies full of carbs, we’re growing sleepy and look forward to an evening cozied up by the fireplace. We pay our bill and take a last sip of water before heading to the door. A light rain begins as we step out into the dark night and head in the direction of a LUAS station. And then we get lost. Up and down the streets we go as the rain drizzle grows more steady. We stumble back through some alleyways, turn around a time or two, and make it to a station that (turns out) is not going the direction we need.
We eventually find our way back to a main street and follow the river to a different bus stop. And about an hour later we shuffle up the rocky driveway, laughing about our random city adventure as Teddy’s notorious bark greets us.
-CRCH
In Light of Colleen 