Meanwhile, Down at the Pub...

Everyone probably has mental images of a "traditional Irish pub." Well, in Ireland, the real thing is probably different than the re-creations dotted all over the globe. A real Irish pub has little pomp and circumstance. In most cases it could be said that the less there is, the more truly Irish it probably is. If it has a newly painted door and a big sign that boasts "Traditional Irish Pub!", it probably isn't. If it's an old plaster sign above the door with nothing but the proprietor's last name, it probably is.

The term "pub" is just short for "public house." This is the best description yet. The pubs in the village are just that - a public house or living room for people to have a pint and talk the night away about absolutely nothing. T and I like to walk down the road now and then to have a pint and see the local characters for a change of scenery. The topics of conversation are almost always funny to me. The same people take the same places at the bar most nights. Often, you can hear the voices grow louder the more rounds have been served. Most of the time, the voices are booming out rhetoric about absolutely nothing.

One night down at the pub, the TV channel landed on the Ultimate Fighting Championship. This wouldn't be my first choice of entertainment, of course, and I glanced over my shoulder and looked the other direction. That is, until I heard the booming voices start to take an interest in the fighters. That's right. One Ken Shamrock entered the ring, which was enough to capture the attentions of the characters that prop up the bar. I hadn't laughed that hard in quite a while, as I listened to the excitement over Ken Shamrock beating someone to a pulp in what seems to be a made-up form of sports entertainment. Of course, the men in the pub don't care about the Ultimate Fighting Championship, and they'd never heard of Ken Shamrock before. But, put a guy named Mr. Shamrock in a ring on TV at the pub, and all allegiences went to Ken. My entertainment was listening to the armchair (or shall I say pub stool) coaching and ref'ing going on, and no less, about something so silly and ridiculous I couldn't believe it actually warranted international TV time.

Then another night, not too long ago, T and I walked down the road to a different pub. This one is quieter and smaller. We were sitting at the bar chatting about work and the owner who was standing next to us nodded to a man across the room and leaned in to tell us to watch. Expecting to see someone who'd had a pint or three too many and was unable to walk or something, we turned around somewhat reluctantly. As it turned out, though, this man was coaxed into doing some magic tricks by his friends. So, he had a captive audience and performed a series of fun tricks that had us all ooh'ing and aaah'ing. It made for pub entertainment of a different sort altogether.

These little experiences, and they are only little, are what make the Irish pub. Even if you don't know the people around you, you may as well, or you might before the night is out. I don't know how to quantify this kind of experience that makes living in an Irish village what it is. Whether it's listening to others solve the problems of the world over a pint of Guinness, or a roaring sing-along breaking out at the end of the night, the Irish pub definitely has its own personality.