Discovering Ireland's People and Places

My friend and I were sitting in the lounge of the hostel. The sounds of Dublin's Temple Bar poured in through the open window, the chatter of youth wandering through the narrow cobblestone street below, young men shouting at young women. A man stumbles in, sounding almost Scottish. "What are you ladies doing tonight?" We glance up, tired. We had just returned from a week in the country and were content to stay indoors. "Why don't you go out drinking with me?" We politely declined. "You from the U.S.?" We nod. "You came all the way to Ireland to skip the bar?" Maybe it was the use of the word "bar," but both my friend and I wore the face of skepticism, doubt that shone through our narrowed eyes. The man then said. "I'm just kidding... I'm from Wisconsin... But, seriously, why don't you come out drinking with us?" I didn't want to tell him the list of reasons I had, beginning with, "Why do I want to go to Ireland to have a drink with some schmuck from Wisconsin who pretends he's Irish?"

To say "Irish" is to stimulate a network of associative connections in the brain: drinking, Guinness, fighting Irish, hot temper, gift of gab, green, leprechauns, lucky charms, potatoes. These associations most likely made, for most of us, over a course of Saint Patrick's Days: drunken tomfoolery, where we pinch each other for not wearing green, drink excessively and wear flashing buttons that instruct: "Kiss me, I'm Irish." And I saw many a young American in Ireland swinging a beer glass in honor of this stereotype.