What I really like about Dublin
I know I've sometimes been a bit critical when it came to Ireland and Dublin. That doesn't mean I don't like it. I'm back so there must be something. The Million Dollar question is: What makes this place exceptionally?
I consider myself being a bit of an investigator. On whatever coast I get washed ashore, no matter how remote the peak where the swallow dropped me, I at least try to find out, what's so special about a place that people decided to spend their life there. While sometimes obvious, in some places I have reason to believe this really is a legitimate question.
In regards to Dublin it was exactly this question that bothered me for a long time. I just didn't get it. I mean, have you been to Dublin lately? You'd be surprised. It is an amazing place, the least to say. The first thing you'll probably notice is the rain and there always is a good chance of the weather being cold and windy as well. But that of course is only the surface, unimportant and Ireland never has been famous for it's pleasant conditions so you can't be bothered. Fair enough.
Once in town it strikes you. Dublin must be special. A budget that would enable you travelling Asia for a month will last you here for about 24 hours. If it wasn't so sad it'd be an almost funny mix of the price level being what one would expect in a famous rip off nobel cuisine restaurant while the average service level an open minded visitor rather would expect in a drive in counter at a lousy fast food chain in Timbuktu. I have to admit I first was a bit pissed off about it but by now I only think: R.E.S.P.E.C.T. - respect. They get away with it so you can't fucking blame them.
All this is unimportant of course on our quest to find out, what is so special about this place that some people even come back. It took me quite a while to solve the riddle, the mystery that surrounds this place and it's inhabitants. I spent countless hours, drifting around, drinking and talking with the locals, got involved with some of them, nothing helped. For once I almost gave up. Just when I was willing to admit my failure it struck me. I had found the answer a long time ago without even realizing. How strange is that?
I think - and this is an educated guess and my best shot - I think Dublin's secret is it makes people emotional. The mood you get into when you stay here for longer is special. I call it the Dublin Blues. It is this never-ending sadness, the bottom of the pint, loosing hope, being lonely while surrounded by people, you feel like although alive standing in front of your own grave, one last step and you tell your tales from the crypt, you are down so down, so down and all this not in a depressing way. It's cool.
You know that actually is the secret of Blues music, it is not negative at all rather the opposite way around. For most people it is sheer beauty when a blind boy is singing how his wife had left him after 15 years without a word, burning his playboy collection, shooting his dog, taking all his money but leaving their seven children. That is what I would call a story, true emotion, the big Blue, the wake up call - life sucks!
I'm not surprised so many great writers came from Dublin. Whether it is the constant chaos that one is surrounded by, the alcohol, the bad weather, the people, you being on your own most of the time or all together, who knows? Sheer poetry, that's all I can say. In Dublin you're more or less constantly sad or pissed or both. It most times is difficult to distinguish if you're drunk because you're sad or the other way around.
Anyway on this occasions you can literally watch the artist in you growing. You still don't know what it is; writer, singer, may be both, or scary scary the next Bob Dylan may be. Why am I saying this I don't know. May be because most parents wish their child is good looking. Anyway, where was I? The feeling when this little artist is growing in you. It's almost like in this movie: Do you remember Alien, this most disgusting scene when they were all chilling at the breakfast table and then suddenly this cute little thingy creeps out of the tummy of I think it was John Hurt. That's exactly how it feels. There is something in you and it wants to come out. I admit in nine out of ten cases it is to much Guinness that is rumbling in your stomach but trust me in Dublin there always is a chance that it is the little poet in you eager to step out in public, presenting himself to wider audience. Very dangerous due the potential embarrassment but everybody is pissed anyway so who fucking cares?
To be continued …