Christmas In Cork City

Ah, Christmas in Cork City. A special time at a young age and a

place of worship in older years. A night down the old streets, a

night like none other, Christmas Eve. From local craft stalls, to

warm and homely pubs, one finds deep solas in the the sacred

night ahead, a pilgrimage for all, to venture into the festive city that

eve and enjoy the seasonal joviality.

As I walk down the high street of Cork city, my senses are assailed

with all sorts of stimulus. The first thing I hear is the cry of the local

news paper vendor crying out to whoever may listen, “Echo, echo.”

The Evening Echo was the flogged wares of the crier, a paper for

the people of the city, and it contained all manner of tales and

stories.

I move on down the street, the cries of “Echo, echo,” slowly fading

away into the distance, ironically carrying an echo of their own as

the sound of the deep voice shouting it’s name bounces about the

busy high street.

The next sense that awakens is my sense of smell. It was

Christmas Eve and there was a vendor sheltered in a small alcove

off the main street selling chestnuts to whomever would fancy an

evening snack. The nutty aroma wafts from the old barrel where

one finds the hard nuts roasting in their protective shell.

But, still I venture on. The temptations of an evening snack or a late

night time read of the local paper aren’t my chosen vice. My

chosen vice, as one finds for many on Christmas Eve in Ireland that

time of year, was the pub. Will I venture into Sin é, The Old Oak or

even more adventurous, The Crane Lane. I am more than familiar

with all of these pubs, the result of spending my college years

trying out the local bars and taverns, which was in stark contrast to

the amount of time I spent at my university, studying.

I think to myself where I would get the best pint of Guinness and

which tavern had the quietest corner to sit and sip away for the

evening. The first question was easy, all the pints of Guinness were

good. The second was a bit trial some. I am feeling adventurous so

I decide to travel the path less known, my chosen destination being

Mutton Lane, a beautiful little pub just off the high street. I was sure

to find a quiet corner for myself and enjoy the comforts of a creamy

pint, and so I venture on, into realms of comfort and places where I

find remnants of a well spent youth and friendly faces in tow.