Everyone is Irish

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So I think I got it today.

Yesterday, as I began my explorations of Dublin on the eve of St. Patrick's Day, I vacillated between amazement and annoyance at the masses of inebriated young foreigners donning bizarre hats in Irish colors. I asked myself: where were the actual Irish? While many had indeed escaped to the countryside as their city was invaded. I also saw that many had remained, just diluted in the crowds. I also came to appreciate that the day was about exuberant joyfulness (sometimes, yes, edging to excess!), made particularly important as the recession hits the Celtic Tiger. St. Patrick's is Dublin's Mardi Gras, its Carnival. Even the parade down O'Connell street was pure pageant, mostly composed of weirdly wonderful concept floats and over the top costumes. And to emphasize that the day was for everyone, not simply the Irish, bands from all over the world were interspersed along the way - even a high school band from Indiana! (As a high school teacher, all I could think of was how horrific it would be to chaperone a group of teenagers during one of the biggest drinking fests in the world...)

Post-parade I ventured into a neighborhood pub, Mulligan's, for my first real pint of Guinness. Although I was traveling alone, I did not feel it. Everyone, no matter where they came from, was Irish for the day.

In the evening, to wrap up my St. Patrick's Day, I returned to the Cobblestone for more Irish music. Perhaps not surprisingly in this small city, I bumped into a couple I had met at Mulligan's. We enjoyed the music together, jigging a bit in the crowd. Yes, I, too, felt Irish.

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