This past week, Not Your Average Travel Guide explored the five day heathen festival that is St. Patrick’s Day in Dublin, Ireland. Watching folks decked out in hokey leprechaun outfits, Irish flag colored wigs, and fuzzy brown Guinness hats, I couldn’t help but think, “Has America conquered St. Patrick’s Day in Ireland too?”.
Having visited the Emerald Isle in fall 2005 (admittedly the only travel I’ve done outside of North America), my girlfriend and I spoke with many Dublin and Belfast natives, as well as folks from outside the Irish urban sprawl. After staring bleary-eyed at the bottom of enough empty Guinness pints, I’d often ask of them: “Tell me the real deal. Is St. Patty’s Day a big deal here or what?”. The response to which would inevitably involve eye-rolling and tsk-tsking. In short: no.
Here in the States where The Olive Garden is a fancy Italian eatery and Chili’s is authentic southwestern fare, we’re fairly expert at hijacking just about anything and turning it into a caricature of its former self. Last Saturday night proved that we’re more than willing and able to do the same for an Irish holiday about which we know absolutely nothing. But, hey, Irish people drink a lot, right? And everyone in Ireland is a wee lil’ leprechaun searching for pots o’ gold and four leaf clovers, so let’s just say it’s about drinking … and the color green.
Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m headed off to Ri-Ra for some traditional Irish crack. Or is it craic? Whatever. Don’t blame me – I’m American. I didn’t invent the stupid holiday.