My first night in Ireland I sat in a charming Dublin pub, enjoying a Guinness and bread pudding with whipped cream. My husband asked me, "Why did we come here?" He was asking if there was something we were hoping to find in coming to Ireland.
I didn't know how to answer at the time, but I sensed a richness and vitality that drew me to the country. As I traveled there I found a terrain that is often lonely and rugged - and certainly difficult to live on - but stunning in its beauty. Almost always the people were warm, gracious and fun to be with. The country is alive with its history, the past being very much a part of everyday life and traditions well cared for.
And everywhere the pub is an essential part of the culture's fabric. People gather for local wit and banter, tradition and comfort. The pubs are the focal point of Irish social life, little points of light in a lovely but harsh landscape.
The charm of the pubs is in the details. The pubs all serve the same few beers, most brewed by Guinness, but there is much discrimination and concern about serving the beer in just the right way, and there are always opinions on who pours the best possible pint. Some pubs have a great deal of architectural detail; ornate columns, patterns stamped into ceilings and walls, perhaps an intricately carved doorknob, give each pub its own flavor. Most pubs have one or more snugs, compartments of various sizes that seat from two up to about 10 people and allow for quiet conversation and privacy. Some have a special window connecting the bar to the snug so that no one has to emerge to get another drink. Everywhere coziness and comfort are considered most important.
Some of the pubs are especially known for the music. Performances are informal. The musicians may just sit around on chairs with everyone else instead of being on stage. The people sing along - everyone knows the words to the traditional tunes that are usually played - and someone from the audience might pick up an instrument and join in. In contrast with the United States, in Ireland both young and old enjoy the same traditional tunes. In many ways tradition seems more important than innovation.
One rainy afternoon I stopped by a pub in a small fishing village called Castletownbere, to get some hot soup and a Guinness. The local fishermen couldn't go out in their boats with the rain, so they were- where else? -in the pub, singing at the top of their lungs. There were no instruments, but they entertained us throughout our lunch with their voices. They showed a joy and taste for life that many of the Irish share, which I found precious and delightful. And in many ways the pubs help carry this life in the society.
Certain pubs had special themes - a pub/post office, pub/groceries, even pub/funeral parlours. I found one of the last category, Nagle's, in a small town called Ennistymon. It felt a bit creepy as I walked in past the signs in front that read "Funeral Parlour" and "Beers, Wines, Spirits," and just inside the door encountered three listless, very old, decrepit-looking men sitting in front of their beers, looking like they might be candidates for the other part of the business before too long. But then Mr. Nagle, a welcoming, small, chipper man, appeared behind the bar. He had a good sense of humor about his business. He explained with an air of pragmatism and a twinkle in his eye that every town needs a funeral parlour, but a small town can't provide enough business to support one full-time, so he had decided to combine the two businesses.
It seems that much of the talk of political and social concerns takes place in the pubs. Most Irish are strongly identified with their country and their history, and discussions can become heated at times. Asked at one point if I had Irish ancestry, I naively told of a distant ancestor who fought on the wrong side of a battle in the 1600s. Voices fell quiet, and I was calmly told I had best not mention my ancestor again in Ireland. I had not understood the immediacy that history has there and the pain that many people feel for the traumas the country has gone through.
This tangible sense of history brings with it a great deal of difficulty, but also richness and life. The sense of the past continually mingling with the present is an important part of the life of the pubs. Most are full of odds and ends that carry their history with them. Many boast the famous people who frequented them and display mementos from past events. Everywhere one has a sense of being part of a continuum, of long traditions passing through time.
I had either the fortune or misfortune to be in Ireland for the World Cup last summer. Pub life went into high gear. Every place was packed and overflowing. A sort of mad nationalistic fervor pervaded, but also genuine camaraderie. Everyone came together to watch the games. It was craziness, yet the real delights of Irish culture came out most strongly - sharing good times, singing, dancing, people coming together to share in each other's warmth.
Pubs are required to close at 11 p.m. every night across the country, but some stay open later according to a system I couldn't quite discern. It must have been obvious to the police; it was obvious to me as I walked by pubs with their fronts all closed up, but bits of light and the sounds of a party coming through the cracks. It seemed that the people in-the-know are let in and out the back door and, as long as it is relatively discreet, the police leave them alone. But for the most part the pubs close down at the same time, and the streets fill up with people carrying on their merriment a little longer as they head home.
As in every place, in Ireland things are changing and traditions are in many ways threatened by the modern age. But much of the essential character of the pubs is still strong, as is a deep appreciation of that character among many of the people. Of course we see that appreciation in the way Irish emigrants have brought their traditional pub with them wherever they have settled.
As I was leaving the country, I thought of the question my husband had asked on our first night there. I wanted to experience the life of Ireland, and I did so in ways that were at once simple and profound. There is a kind of magic there that happens in the directness of interactions between people, in the stories, in the music, in the richness of the history, in the humanity that is felt as people encounter and respect one another. The pubs accommodate the life of the country in all its richness, in a way I have not experienced anywhere else.