When in Rome, do as the romans, the old quote says. Accepting others and their different points of views, actions and habits is not the same as repeating them just because you happen to be at their homes. I am a curious person who will try everything at least once. Coming from a family of good wine drinkers, it is strange that I never enjoyed alcohol. I just can´t stand its odour which is followed by nausea and headaches so being in Dublin would not include, most probably, joining the heavy drinking crowds which gather in bars all over town.
Yet, at the night of my arrival, I was feeling "risqué" and brave so I dared to follow the enchanting irish live music that came from a bar just besides the hotel where I was staying for the night. Oh, yeah, I´m wild and I know it! (yeah, right...).
-Do you have irish coffee? - I yelled at the barman amidst the noise. He was kind enough not to make fun of me for such a - how can put it? - tender request. Asking for irish coffee in a Dublin bar, at night, it´s kind of nerd, I admit. But, hey, I never said I was cool. I never travel in style (arriving all messed up and looking like a political refugee) and, although I easily mix with every crowd that has something to teach me, I do not embody the "good girl gone wild" character. I was born wild and any effort to show it seems childish to me.
-Yeah, I do have irish coffee.- The barman answered.
Once he brought me my "pint", I could just stare at it (as, later on, Dudley suggested at the Charleville castle). I took a little sip of it and was ready to throw up as the taste of whiskey invaded by nostrils and tongue.
-Blhergghhhhhh...- was my reaction.
-You ain´t gonna drink that coffee, ain´t you?
-No, I really can´t. You see, I am not an alcohol drinker.
-Blimey! Bloody hell...poor you.- Lamented the barman, with a sense of true compassion for my wanderer soul.
The next morning, as the stubborn I am, I returned to the bar with a renewed hope to mingle with the crowds. Irish coffee, once more with a side of James Joyce (book) to help it all go down my astonished throat.
Failed mission. Some times - very rarely, though - you just have to admit defeat.
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