Loose Petticoats, Loose Morals: A Weekend in Dublin

Green isn't even the national color... It's Dublin Blue! Just one of the many things I learned while visiting the city this past weekend. The other fun fact was the placement of mirrors under tables at the Dublin castle. It first seemed a bit naughty, but its purpose was so women could always see the trim of their dresses and readjust any layers to prevent petticoats from peaking through. "Loose Petticoats, Loose Morals." A lesson never to be forgotten. I've adopted it as a way of life.
I expected Dublin to be similar to Edinburgh, but other than the omnipotence of drinking and the presence of potatoes in every dish, the cities are surprisingly different. The largest difference grounded in the architecture and city layout: Edinburgh has a kind of center and all roads lead to or depart from that point. Dublin seems more lateral and divided by one main river that runs through the entire city. Apparently one side is grimy, the other charming. I found both sides pretty wonderful.

First stop was Guinness Storehouse. The best part was the free pint served at the Sky Bar at the very top of the building with a 360 degree view of Dublin. It's definitely an acquired taste, but in the spirit of "the now" I swallowed the murky brown liquid with no complaint.
After Guinness, it was off to the Jameson Distillery. My sanity muddled by the effects of the murky brown liquid, I volunteered to be a taster at the end of the tour, which required me to consume three shots of whiskey: American, Scottish, and Irish. I was surrounded by propaganda insisting that American was the worst, Scottish the second worst, and Irish obviously the cleanest, purest, easiest, and tastiest. We were then asked to vote for our favorite and realizing I was surrounded by Irishmen and old muskets above the bar, I succumbed and agreed with the propaganda. I was well awarded for my choice: an official whiskey taster certificate and of course another shot of Whiskey. I wobbled out of Jameson.

We stopped at an unsuspecting bar called O'Neils (there are about 700) to have some baked ham, mashed potatoes, sweet potatoes, carrots, turnips, and cabbage all covered in gravy (Jameson makes you hungry). Clue #1: The bar was filling up with men in jerseys. Clue #2: A giant screen was lowered. Clue #3: We were the only two girls in the bar. Only once clue #3 struck did we realize an imperative rugby match was about to commence. France Vs. Wales. Anyone who tells you to go to Ireland for St. Patrick's Day has never been there for a Rugby match. Ireland wasn't even playing, but based on the enthusiasm and endless empty pints, they might have well been. I'm just going to risk a reputation as an Expat and say it's better than the Superbowl. Ireland was due to play England the next day. You can imagine our excitement.

The Ireland Vs. England match was to start at 5:30pm, meaning we had to be dressed in full garb and claim a spot in a pub around noon. I had a conflict though. I was on a mission to see the Book of Kells, an old illuminated manuscript dated to about 800, so on our way to our choice of pub, we stopped at Trinity college to get a peak at the manuscript before our 12:00pm appointment at PorterHouse Pub. I stood in front of this sacred text in full Irish Rugby gear.

Ireland won. Just imagine it. Okay... now multiply that by 100. Then by 1000. That's about how exciting it was.