Dublin

I am recently back from a weekend trip to Dublin with Sam. I am not much of a traveler and have learned to reign in my ambitions. I will not take as many good photos as I hope, I will not weave a self-actualizing path through history and culture, and I will not, in a reflection such as this, capture the essence of a place in some previously ineffable way. Travel guides and Top 10 Lists are often referenced only after returning. For a traveler with such modest aims, or no aims at all, Dublin is a paradise.

The city is highly walkable, we only took one car ride that wasn't to or from the airport. In fact, once we set our sights on a destination, the longer the trek the better as it meant more opportunities to punctuate our journey with pints along the way to warm up, or more often, just because. Several destinations, the National Print Museum and the Abbey Theater, remained unreached without regret although I'm sure both are lovely.

The height of our travel achievement was actually making it to our tour of Trinity College Dublin led by theoretical physics student Emily. I could not have held a nationwide casting call for "Doc Marten-clad Irish co-ed" and done better than Emily. Amidst a highly abridged historical and architectural record of Trinity we learned that in their 3rd and 4th year students can sit for a special exam in their chosen discipline. Those that pass are awarded the title of "Scholar" and offered an additional 5-years at the school free of charge with room and board to continue their studies. Only 50-60 Scholars are named each year from the nearly 4,000 that sit for the exams. As someone with a romanticized view of both Europe and academia, this particular detail about Trinity College Dublin was almost too much to bear. At 23 I could have been reading Camus in a 1600s gothic dormitory, instead I was "connecting" on LinkedIn and pretending to keep up with professional sports to win favor from superiors I didn't respect. By the end of the tour, it was certainly time for another pint.

The term "pub culture," as I have heard it, is almost always said with at least a hint of pejorative inflection. What we found in Dublin was more a form of daily communion that had been established, respected and nurtured for centuries. The pubs we visited were warm, low-ceilinged and invariably full. The multigenerational crowds talked, gesticulated, and of course, drank with enthusiasm. It did not seem that anyone had "met for drinks", certainly no business was being done, rather the pub served for its patrons as it did for us– as a way-post and a respite. For Dubliners, the pub is a place for sustenance, physical and spiritual. It is the place where community is made manifest. To ask "Is the Guinness really better?" (Yes.) is to miss the point entirely.

As someone who poorly documents his travel and researches it even less, all I am usually left with from a place is a fading sense of it, a few anecdotes and the credit card charges. For me, Dublin induced almost inverse Paris Syndrome. Dublin was instantly familiar. The people were friendly and the cadence of daily life unhurried. It is sometimes said that Europe optimizes for the average life, while America optimizes for the extraordinary one. I wonder to what degree these mildly diminished expectations influence the culture. That you nor your neighbor harbor fantasies of fame and fortune may make your interactions more pleasant, or at least more honest. That a good day is an open seat and a solid pint your local, not the movement of the 10-year treasury might make you a more empathetic, even more interesting person.

Dublin is a physically improbable place. In terms of latitude it sits above Halifax and just below Oslo. The jet stream blesses Ireland with a more temperate climate and keeps the flora a vibrant green deep into winter. This stroke of luck, this small consolation amid otherwise harsh conditions is a reflection of Irish life itself. Dubliners elevate the quotidian to a ritual. For this aimless traveler, the impulse felt right at home.