Ashlee and I wandered our way over to Glasnevin Cemetery and finally found Gravediggers. We popped in to the main pub which was empty but for a few locals that clearly stared at us as though we had lobsters coming out of our ears. We immediately dashed back outside and had a quick cigarette while trying to summon the courage to go in again. A mother and daughter walked past us and into the lounge area that was separate from the main pub. They stepped back out a minute later and I said to the mother, who was in her mid-sixties, "That's not a good sign. Ya went in and then came right back out." We then found ourselves chatting like new friends and they were both so sweet. She asked why we weren't in the old pub and I told her that we were scared because we don't belong. "'Course ya belong! Ya belong everywhere!" was her response. The mum told us that she spent most of her youth in that pub and that it has looked that way since it opened in 1833. The lounge area was added on more recently and after a warm goodbye to the ladies we decided to go in where it was quiet and where we would stand out the least.
I opened the door and stepped in to a large room with a few men at a table near the front. I walked over to the beautiful bearded bartender (as a side note, the men in Dublin are stunning, even recently married Ashlee remarked, "Damn, the Irish reproduce quite nicely.") and sheepishly said, "We are frightened Americans who just want a pint of Guinness. How do we go about doing so?" He told us to grab a seat and he'd bring them right over. He was an absolute delight and chatted us up a bit before we headed out. Now, you need to know that I'm not a drinker; I have had maybe eight beers in my entire life and this was only my third (the rest were in Belgium, but that's a future post). I was prepared to truly dislike the Guinness, but in all honesty, it was delicious. Absolutely divine. Like nothing I've ever had before.
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1 comment:
That's a great story!
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