| It wasn’t until my sixth month in Dublin that I realized the hoppy, malty smell that rolled over the city every time the winds shifted to the east was the earthy aroma from the Guinness Storehouse, just a 20-minute walk away at St. James’s Gate. That’s because I’m a slow learner. But if you’re a tourist in Dublin, slow learner or not, it doesn’t take long to recognize that the quest for the perfect pint is more than just a tourist trap. It’s a venerable institution.
It seems the pub-crawl was invented for a city like dear, dirty Dublin, commonly known as a pedestrian city. The spacious sidewalks of Dame Street, the cobblestone paths of Temple Bar, the hustle and bustle of Grafton Street, all lend themselves to a leisurely exploration of the capital’s haunts and hops. Unfortunately, it took me many months of painstaking trial-and-error research before I perfected the art of the Dublin pub-crawl. Here I intend to offer you the fruits of that exhaustive labour in a few scant paragraphs.
The perfect pub-crawl would commence at the Porterhouse on Parliament Street, a swank affair just at the western edge of Temple Bar. It has to come first, since it will be by far the most upscale pub you’ll be crawling to in the evening and should be enjoyed while you are still able to walk upright and carry on meaningful conversation. You might be surprised to see there’s not a drop of Guinness on the extensive menu. The Porterhouse specializes in local microbrews and international rarities. If you simply must have a stout of some sort, try their plain porter. They say it was voted the best stout in the world by someone or other. I say go for one of the difficult-to-pronounce German imports. They come in a funny glass. Come early if you want to find a seat for you and your friends on one of the floors of this surprisingly busy pub. Feel free to leave when the musical entertainment arrives and starts blasting out overly loud Brit-pop singalongs from the stairwell landing.
After 60 seconds or so of continuous walking, you will no doubt find yourself in need of another refreshment. Thankfully, Brogan’s will be right around the corner on Dame Street. Brogan’s takes a refreshingly utilitarian approach to the pub experience, offering their clientele exactly two amenities: tables and chairs. If you think I’m forgetting the running water in the washroom, you haven’t been to the washroom. Still, it’s a nice place to people-watch, especially if you can find a seat near the window facing Dame Street.
Savour your quiet pint at Brogan’s, because next you’ll be heading into Temple Bar for a much noisier pint at the infamous Temple Bar itself. When you get there (just follow the drunken tourists), grab a pint of Heineken and make a beeline for the roofless section toward the back. This is as close to a patio as I’ve seen in Dublin. If your friends stand aghast at your selection of Heineken in the heart of Guinness country, you can tell them that the Guinness brewery actually brews more Heineken than Guinness. This is not really an outstanding fact, but by this point in the evening you will be convinced that all your banter is engaging.
The next stop on the crawl, The Long Stone, is an unconscionable five-minute walk away on Townsend Street. The trip will be long and hazardous. You will have to negotiate the snarl of taxis lying in wait of innocent tourists at College Green, and you’ll have to cross two major intersections. You will need to fortify yourself with some sort of greasy, meaty product at Rasher Byrne’s (conveniently right around the corner from Temple Bar) and stop for a quick tipple at St. John Gogarty’s further east. At Gogarty’s, you have the opportunity to marvel at how you can be enjoying an authentic Irish pint in an authentic Irish pub listening to authentic Irish music surrounded by 200 people, not one of them Irish.
After escaping Gogarty’s, head back to Dame Street, along College Green, down College Street, past Doyle’s (although you should remember where Doyle’s is) and on to the Screen cinema. Just around the corner you’ll find The Long Stone. Grab a pint at the front, bring it up the stairs toward the back, and behold – the Giant Fireplace Head! Being a slow learner, I never really cottoned on to why The Long Stone has a Giant Fireplace Head. The pub’s website claims that it’s a representation of Balder, the Viking god of light and warmth, but at this point you’ll probably just want to pose in front of it with your friends for pictures that make it look like you’re feeding beer to the head. This is what will pass for humour after your fifth pint of the evening (or is it sixth?).
Finally, while you still have enough wherewithal to follow directions, head back down College Street to Doyle’s. Go in the unassuming wooden doors, but be careful not to slam them behind you… I happen to know the bouncers don’t like that too much. Doyle’s attracts an eclectic mix, including students from Trinity College across the street, seedy sorts who hang out in shadowy places, and adventurous businessmen after a day of work. I’ve been told there’s a dance floor upstairs, but I wouldn’t know. At this last port of call before utter incoherence, I’ve never trusted myself to walk up the stairs. When you get to the point where you wouldn’t recognize the word sobriety if someone wrote it on a piece of paper and stuck it to your forehead, it’s time to leave. When you leave, feel free to slam the door behind you… I happen to know that the bouncers don’t follow through with their threats of lifetime banishment, scary as they might seem at the time.
After getting kicked out of Doyle’s, I’m afraid you’re on your own. Directions are decreasingly meaningful at the end of a good pub-crawl, and most pubs are starting to seem alike anyway. Don’t sweat it. With thousands of fine drinking establishments at your disposal, even a slow learner is bound to run into one or two inviting ones on the stumble back to the hotel or hostel.
James Corbett spent a year in Dublin as a Trinity College student. He still remembers some of it. |
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