Ellen and I decided to spend the morning in the city despite the fact that our hostel is in Killarney and takes quite a while to get to. That way, we can see the Dublin parade and then scram before the mêlée sets in.
It's actually a misconception that St. Patrick's Day is a massive celebration in Ireland.
Way back when, Irish Americans seeking to celebrate their heritage chose St. Patrick's (the patron saint of Ireland) feast day to commemorate their homeland. Years later, the holiday spread to the rest of the world, including Ireland. It is therefore questionable whether or not St. Patrick's Day is biggest in Ireland or elsewhere. The Irish really regard it as a holiday they just put on for tourists. One Irish woman gave us another way to look at it, saying, "St. Patrick's is the only day of the year we've an excuse to drink."
So we started the day on Dublin's main drag, O'Connell Street, watching the parade. It was a gorgeous sunny day and the city was unusually quiet on this weekday. We got a nice spot right next to the fence, did some people watching, and watched the parade. First came St. Patrick himself, shaking hands and posing for pictures as he went. Next came the Irish president, followed by Irish police and Irish firefighters. We don't really know why, but the parade stopped quite often and since we were right by the fence we quite often spoke with people in the parade. The Dublin firefighters were especially keen on talking to us, but that's another story.
Finally came the parade with the floats and dancers. It was a bizarre theme, which we found out later mirrored some children's book. In between the book chapters came random things, among them the West Dearborn High School band! Who knew that I needed to travel some 5,000 miles to hear a Michigan high school marching band.
Once the parade was over we hopped straight on a bus headed for Killarney via Limerick. For the first leg of the journey we had two fine Irish lasses join us in the back of the bus. And when I say fine Irish lasses, I mean two young hoodlums with annoying, garbled accents and even more annoying conversation (they weren't talking to us, by the way, just talking loud enough for the entire bus to hear.
The one benefit of the ride was getting to see so much of the country. We felt stifled in the large city of Dublin, especially with the knowledge that just a few miles outside the asphalt jungle lay lush, verdant pastures.
We made it into Killarney at 9 pm and made a dash straight for our hostel. We went out for some food and perhaps a round of drinks, but the streets of Killarney were littered with trash like that of our bus ride, so we grabbed some quick kebabs and called it a night.
Not the craziest or most festive of St. Patrick's Days, but for these two redheads, being in Ireland with each other was plenty.
Crowd watching. Look at this cutie in her homemade Irish dress. The local news interviewed her and her sister in their matching outfits. It's little wonder why.
Ellen, the sun, and the Garda (the policeman in the background). He got pretty heavily molested as the parade passed.
The man of the hour.
An Irish wolfhound!The Police Band. Notice the American flag right behind the Irish one. As Ellen loves to yell, "AMERICA!"
As mentioned, some of the stuff was just weird. These here are sea creatures.A Moorish Band.
Our pastoral truck stop.
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