Arriving (and Serenaded) in Cork

On Friday ten of us met in the Goldsmith Quad to cross the Liffey and catch the 6:00pm Bus Eireann to Cork City. Since tickets can only be purchased online for particular days and not for specific times, we set out after 4:30pm and arrived with just under an hour before our bus would depart. The scene in the main station was that of ordered chaos. Lines formed as gate numbers were announced for particular buses. However, the gates are structured on an 'L' so the stretching lines intersected and wound across the entire lobby.

Two gates announced for Cork, so we picked one and formed the front of a growing line. However, the decision was soon made to make our bus a local Cork County one and to turn the other into a Cork City express. We were then ushered into the back of the other line. Due to a little luck, we all managed to fit on board despite the initial commotion caused by the station officer unknowingly drawing the cutoff point in front of Brittany.

Following one stop at a gas station and fast food joint, we arrived at the city's bus terminal around 10:30pm. From there we gathered our bags and set out to find the Kinlay House hostel on the other side of the canal. The nature of the buildings along the water evoked that of Dublin along the Liffey but for the rising elevation on all sides. Although we never located the alleged 'Goldfish' landmark, we found the Cork Opera House and made the correct turn to our hostel.

Downtown Cork City

Full County Cork Album

Even though the alleyway that led to its front door was covered with graffiti, the hostel proved most welcoming (and cheap at 25 euro for the weekend). Since we booked independently, we were not all in the same ten-person dorm room. However, I found myself among the seven 'cool kids' in our self-described 'summer camp 2011' room in the Jospeh O'Connor section of the building. Brittany and Sean were in a room nearby, but Emma was stuck a couple floors below.

After putting away our bags we departed to investigate the city's nightlife. Back in downtown we entered the pedestrian boulevard of Emmet Place by the Opera House. The majority of the streets boasted modern silver lampposts that lifted diagonal light fixtures over the streets that almost met as archways. As a result, each echoed the style of Dublin's Grafton street without the relative darkness of its Temple Bar district. Following a visit to an ATM we were recommended the Thomond Bar that boasted karaoke.

On the way in, we were given tokens for a free shot. Even though we knew that it was never a good idea to visit locations with such promotions (i.e. The Mezz in Dublin), perhaps we were drawn in by the terrible rendition of 'Bad Romance' emanating from within. Following the shot of questionable alcohol content, I purchased my first pint of Beamish, a stout from Cork that competes with Murphy's, the other local one. Together with Guinness they form the trifecta of common Irish Stouts.

Participants in karaoke favored many American tunes with a particular preference for Elvis. Repudiating the potential foreshadowing of Lady Gaga, each singer performed with an uncanny similarity to the original artists. At least that was the case until the six girls decided to sing 'Don't Stop Believin,' a rendition which is available below:

Similar to Dublin, the pub closed just after midnight. In search of more festivities and eager to explore the city center, we sought a club to visit for the rest of the night. However, many of the later venues either charged cover fees or denied entry to anyone below 21 or in one case below 23. Disheartened, seven of us grabbed nearly variety of chips available at Eddie Rockets 1950's-styled American Diner. As it turns out, the chain has no relation to the Johnny Rocket's of the states and besides its near identical decor is an unaffiliated Irish copy. Still the chili fries were delicious.

After reuniting with the three who tried in vain to find an establishment to visit, we cajoled our way into The Grafton for its final 20 minutes before closing. Inside I met the first of two woman in County Cork who knew Framingham. Upon meeting a group from America the first woman surrounded us with her friends who proceeded to serenade us with traditional Irish pub songs. 

We stayed with them until after last call, when a rendition of the famous IRA song 'Come Out Ye Black and Tans,' which references the British paramilitary units deployed during the Irish Revolution, was sufficient, either for noise or content, for the security guard to descend upon us and ask us to leave the bar.

Back at the hostel we woke up our 8th roommate by our late arrival and shared some stories after he turned out to be from Seattle on vacation.