Irish Pub in Paris

Over the past few years, I have been traveling a lot and I have found one thing that all major cities have in common. The Irish pub. What explains this phenomenon? I will chronical my adventures at these establishments city by city.

Paris
The Eiffel Tower drew us in like a beacon. We walked for miles (well, kilometers) towards the glowing tower that at times would sparkle. All of Paris sparkles between the Beaujolais festival until New Years. We went to the top of the Tower, marveled at the sights. Why, yes this is the city of lights. Can you take our picture? All the things one does on their first night in Paris.

After we came back to Earth and navigated through the throngs of young men hawking Tower keychains and fiber optic glass sculptures and past the police offices with the AK-47’s, I know I wasn’t ready for bed yet. It was around 11 on a Monday or Tuesday night in a business area. What was there to do?

We had passed by a pub on the way to the Tower. Yep, an Irish pub near the Seinne. Sounds romantic, don’t it? If memory serves me right, it was the Corcoran. I didn’t feel too much culture shock in Paris. The young men and women roaming new the Tower and in the airport with machine guns thrown jauntily across their shoulder was a big deal, though. Hooligans in their late 20’s chugging beer on a Sunday morning near the Opera, okay, that bothered me as well. Seeing, through the windows of the subway car, the extreme poverty of the peoples living outside the city; I was shocked by this as well. Okay, so Paris took a little getting used to.

So, it may be no wonder that I was drawn to a familiar face in the form of a pint. Liter. whatever

The Corcoran was warm and inviting, dark wood lined the walls, which were covered in memorabilia. The barman claimed to be half English. I am assuming the other half was French? He asked us how we ended up in an Irish pub in Paris. Oh, well, we’re from Boston. Oh, of course! He had been to Boston, specifically to Brighton, which is a neighborhood of the city, to visit friends. He asked if that thing the city’s been working on has been completed yet? You mean the Big Dig? We laughed and laughed and he asked us what we wanted to drink. We played it safe for the first round—Guiness and a cider. Now, being on the continent, we were dealing with the metric system. A half a liter is 16.9 ounces. A half liter of beer or cider was either 7€80, which at the time was equal to $10.53. (or was it 6€70? =$9.05) In today’s weak dollar, that would be $12.12 (or $10.38). For the next round, Keith had a 1556 Blanc. The barman tried to warn us against it, telling us many people do not like it because of its fruitiness. This has to be one of the most delicious beers I have ever had in my life. I have been searching to find this in Boston and every other city in which we have traveled ever since. As the name suggests, it is a white beer, similar to Hoegarden, but with a richer floral bouquet. I have found the regular 1556, a lager or pilsner, but it wasn’t the same.

We ended our evening at the Corcoran and Keith grabbed a bag of crisps for the walk back to our room. I thought it very cute that the barman brought the crisps in a basket. Mind you it was still in the bag, unopened. It made sense to me that he did that for the Japanese couple sitting next to us, as they consumed their crisps at the bar. Is it uncouth in Paris to eat your crisps out of the bag? For that matter, is it uncouth to devour a bag of crisps as you drunkenly stumble down the street? Experiencing new cultural differences is part of why we travel, right?

Now, let me tell you about these chips Keith had. I think they were beef & bacon flavored. I did not partake, what with my feelings about bacon and other piggie parts. But I LOVE potato chips from other countries! I love the different flavors that we just don’t think to use in our snack foods.