Saint Patrick's Day

Lá Fhéile Pádraig sona duit!*

Saint Patrick’s Day started Wednesday night. I went to the Inter-Chaplaincy Saint Patrick’s Day event at the Student Union. This was advertised as a ceilidh beag** so I thought it wouldn’t be too scary. It was fun. There was a ceilidh band, so, acoustic guitars, a harp, fiddle and whistle. There were a few worship songs and jigs, and then the chaplains paraded in bearing huge quantities of pizza. There were a lot of people there (I can’t guess the number of a crowd if it’s above fifty or so) so they had a speed-meeting getting-to-know-you game, which I can’t remember a single name from. But it was still fun – it’s good to remind people, I think, that the holiday is in fact a saint’s*** day, however many people use it as an excuse to get drunk and wear stupid hats.

The only bad thing about study abroad in a city is having no friends. Every activity that you have the opportunity to participate in is with other exchange students, and you have nothing in common with students from Europe or Asia, and really want to get to know Irish students, but every event that goes on has hundreds of people at it, so it’s near impossible to get to know anybody. I mean, you can’t even hear people talk. I desperately wish there was some kind of small-group activity going on, but I haven’t found it. At least, it doesn’t seem to exist independent of clubs (by which I mean nightclubs). I am an antisocial drinker – I like drinking, sometimes, but I hate loud noise and drunk people, which is a problem when it comes to socialization in a big city.

End rant. *sigh* Anyway....

Did I go to the parade? Yes. I went to the parade. Did I actually see any of it? Surprisingly, yes. While one of the downsides to being small is the inability to see over anybody else, one of the perks is being able to worm one’s way into just about anywhere. Thus, after a few minutes of patient worming across the City Centre street, I made it close enough to see the parade. I’d never been to a Saint Patrick’s Day parade before, so it was exciting - and this one has a colourful, home-made look to it, not like the big parades in the States. I thoroughly enjoyed it.

There was a H & W float, and a lot of people in bright costumes waving streamers, a Chinese dragon on poles that danced in a circle, a school marching band, and more – scroll down for pictures. The crowd was just as entertaining. From the languages and accents heard in the thick of it, at least half the people there weren’t native Irish. But don’t get me wrong – there were plenty of those there, too. The street was a huge, chattering sea of green, lots of children on shoulders waving paper shamrock flags, and there were also plenty of sequined bowler hats and other such tasteless accessories. A few people had even found tricolours and wrapped themselves in them like bath towels.

The crowd watching the parade - a lot of children on shoulders!



What is this? I don't know...



... but it was followed by a troupe of children on unicycles!

One of two artistic fish, carried by people in front of...

... the Harland & Wolf shipworks float.

And the Chinese dragon, obviously a time-honoured Saint Patrick's Day tradition!
Note: girl at the far left lives in 7 College Gardens as well!

The blue people were my favourite. I have no idea what they were supposed to represent (if anything) but they were pretty. They spun their bird streamers round and round, and it looked as though they were caught in the middle of a flock of big, bright birds, such a contrast to the dull colours of the city.

These came after the blue people - the yellow and green, and then the pink and purple!

Then - your friendly Monster Muppet Man!

Finally, a band of marching Scottish pipers.

As I said - exciting!

There were also police officers. Everywhere.

The College Gardens students meandered over more or less together. After the parade, the others disappeared to go off drinking. This was interesting, as I didn’t want to go off drinking, especially at noon, and didn’t know the way back to College Gardens. So I wandered around City Centre for a while, and then went shopping. I’d been wanting to find some tights or long stockings (there are only so many layers you can get a pair of jeans over). I went to a charity shop on the corner. I love charity shops – they’re the little British equivalent of thrift stores. Instead of the DAV or the CHKD, you get Oxfam and the Marie Curie Cancer Centre shops. You get the same shelves of suspicious paperbacks, disorganized clothing, and deranged-looking ceramic animals like pigs and geese and elephants that you wonder why anyone would buy in the first place. It’s fun.  

There was a French family there while I was there, so I got to listen to the parents wrangling their children in exasperated French. I asked the lady behind the desks where people here went to buy socks and tights and things. Almost everyone here wears them under everything, so far as I can tell, even shorts – because it’s cold and damp all the time, you do not want to go bare-legged or wear skirt without anything under them.

I was pointed towards Primark, across the street. Remember how I said there’s no Superstores of any kind? Well, the clothing department in a big store in the States – think Target or Wal-Mart – apparently exists independently, here, in the form of Primark. It’s the kind of place where there are lots of children yelling, lots of sale racks, disposable drinks cups perched on displays, and there are displays of huge heaps of shirts and skirts falling off hangers with signs saying “NOW 50% OFF” and "£1." It's my new favourite clothing store, I've decided, and when I wear holes in all my socks I'll head on back.

Afterwards, I went home. Things were pretty mellow for the moment.

However, I knew there'd soon be a big, noisy party. But luckily I had plans for the night – or, for the next couple hours:

The main table in front of the church. The lady in the blue coat is Janice, the curate.

 Every year on Saint Patrick’s Day, St. Bart’s sets up some tables with snacks, hot tea, and coffee, and gives it out for free to passersby. The theory is that the drunk students will be distracted and get some real food inside them to offset the alcohol, which, speaking as a college student myself, is an excellent idea. In this city things can get crazy bad the week of the 17th - there's posters up in the houses, and e-mails sent out, warning exchange students and pleading with the natives. People just start drinking, and don't stop.


Of course, in addition to this practical concern, it makes a lot of people very happy when someone comes down the sidewalk with a tray saying, “Free sandwiches! Free sweets! Biscuits! Rock Cakes! Happy Saint Patrick’s Day!”


Some people stayed at the tables, and some people went to houses where they knew there’d be parties, and some people went up and down the streets. The block over had crowds of students all up and down, and I emptied a whole tray of sandwiches and tiny sausages in minutes. Hopefully, it did some good.

These splendid people are Ross and Elizabeth, who are from different churches and came over to help out.

I signed up for 4-6, and had to leave by 6:30 because I couldn’t feel my fingers or toes, despite the paper cups of hot tea I kept drinking, more to hold than for any other reason.

I’m now very determined to finish knitting these woollen socks. Watch it get warm the moment I bind off. Just watch.

Happy Saint Patrick’s Day!

*I’m pretty sure this is how you say “Happy Saint Patrick’s Day.”

**“little party” (pronounced kay-lee beg)

***Saint Patrick – Patricius – was actually born in the place that’d later be Wales. He was taken to Ireland as a slave. Just saying.

No leprechauns were involved in the making of this holiday. Unless, of course, the fairies get drunk and go out dancing as well, and need new shoes.