The Irish Days

1. Close Encounters

The Youth Hostel was the green colored two story house next to the old church. This was exactly were the map indicated, but there was no one around. I waited after ringing the bell. The Clerk appeared wearing a green sweater and with a blonde beard. “Are you paying by cash? “ He asked. I emptied my valet with all the Irish currency I had withdrawn from the ATM. He returned a five pound note back.

He gave me a key for the room and locker.

We walked past some poorly lit communal rooms to the dorm. There were two bunk beds and two tables. I decided to settle on the lower “berth.” On the top the other bed, there was a guy, who lifted his head and said “Hello” and then went to sleep, lightly snoring.

There was an aroma of beer and cigarettes in the air. I slowly unzipped my suite case and took the essential things for the day. While arranging my bed, I realized that there were more people coming through the hallway. A slightly balding muscular man wearing shorts and t-shirt  entered and said “Hello “with a German accent, while  rolling in his heavy back pack, which he kept in the middle of the room.

I was reading the papers from the registration at the University and keeping mental notes on  all the things I need to do in the morning. It seemed like classes were scattered around various campuses and staying in Dublin was not the best option.

I was feeling sleepy. 
I probably slept for five minutes. 
By this time my new roommate had gone to shower as I could hear him singing next door. Then I heard him opening the bag, which was just above me on the bunk bed.

Then I realized that he was just standing next to me grabbing clothes from the bag, while his manhood was dangling one foot away from my head, without any sense of apprehension. He was not grabbing his clothes, but took a mirror, put gel on his hair, and took five minutes to comb into a mullet, while I sat there in my bed, face glued into a book, pretending that I was reading.

However my act of escapism did not alter the situation. The man had lot of questions for me regarding the night life in Dublin, transportation, bars etc. etc. I told him that I had landed there few hours before him,

He was in no hurry to get clothes on and possibly that was not high on his agenda that time.

That night was very long…as the coiled up smoke rising from my room mate's cigarette half burned, kept at the edge of the table.

I checked out earlier than I planned.
 I kept walking in the fog, past the parked cars with frosted up windows and the pavement with beads of shattered glass pieces and beer cans.
I had to walk all the way to the O'Connell street in search of a motel.

2. Drimnagh

Benmadigan road was a circular road enclosing the green in the middle where children played fearlessly after their school finished. Daffodils and Tulips bordered some small bushes next to a central fountain.

 I could see Brandon, my land lady’s nephew running towards the house. Dublin was a city of young people. They were everywhere. In that village or small suburb of Dublin, every foreigner was from the hospital. Everyone knew everybody.

While coming home after the classes, curious children followed me. “Mr.… what’s your name?”, I told them my name. “Are you selling Insurance?” I was surprised. I never thought that it was a viable option for me in that town. I Laughed. “No. I am a student”

I missed the address , as the row of houses was all looking same. I saw my land lady chatting with friends. “Hi Doreen, are you coming home?” She replied; ”This is my home.”

(to be continued)

3: The Record of  My First Guinness

The ferry was quite bigger than what I imagined it be. From Holyhead , UK, to Dun Laoghaire, the trip was about five hours in the midnight. I walked below the flood lit passage way, following other passengers from the bus. I went to sit next to the starboard side window to get the glimpse of the surrounding. Except for the fluorescent lights around, there was nothing to be seen. The bar at the ferry was quiet except for the speakers playing Celtic rhythms. There was only one customer, drinking beer.

I was going back to Ireland.

Even though I knew about Guinness and seen people drinking and admiring it, I never had any chance tasting it.

That was the first time I confidently walked into a bar to order something for myself. I felt so proud.

“What can I get you sir?”

“I’ll have a pint of Guinness”

I did not know that was the way to order, but I kept a straight face.

“A Pint?”

“A glass”

The bartender looked at the customer for a second and lifted a beer glass from the shelf and showed it to me

“You mean this?”

“Yes please” The confident me.

He took the glass and placed it below the tap, filled it with Guinness and brought the drink and a tray with napkin to me.

The glass contained a fizzy dirty yellowish brown drink with lot of froth.

That was not the drink I had in my mind. I imagined it to be dark brown, almost like black coffee, with a golden shade. That was what I had seen in the TV.

This was probably true to the bottom two centimeters, but rest was creamy greenish brown. At least that was what my sleep deprived eyes found.

 I waited for fifteen seconds and with tremulous hands, lifted the heavy glass, with precarious head. I tilted the glass, while carefully sipping the royal liquid through it’s thick head.

The  concoction of innumerable leaves with their bitter taste over powered my reluctant taste buds, my stomach turned upside down in that undulation of the ferry which was already moving in the rough Irish sea.

I knew that I was not going to make it. I was not planning to throw up during the whole night in that ferry.

I saw the bartender and his customer staring at me like they have never seen anything like that in their entire life...A human walking away from a full glass of Draught Guinness poured, not to wait for the beauty to settle down.

(Continued)