My Dublin

Dublin in 2007 was Heaven 

Fleeting moments. Smells. Nostalgia. Words overheard. A certain magic in the air. Many elements make up our glimpses of a city, and the feel we get from it. For me it’s the sound of jazz pouring from the basement of Shebeen Chic bar on George’s Street. The strangely comforting smell of damp Victorian houses on Parnell Square. Cycling my bike down the tree-lined, canopied Ailesbury Road, looking at the huge houses and wondering about the people inside. Walking around Temple Bar in the summer and smiling at the contrast of people quietly looking through books in the book market to the laughter from the stags and hens (Dublin’s fair city where last night’s stag’s and hens aren’t so pretty!). Sitting in the sun in Meeting House Square taking in the wonderful aromas of the food market, and looking through my new old books, devouring the gorgeous smell of the pages. Gazing out of my sitting room window at the lights on Howth Head or watching the Dart curve along the coast toward Dún Laoghaire. The smell of the sea hitting my nostrils the moment I walk out my front door, reminding me that I need it close. 

Walks through Smithfield and Stoneybatter where the buzz of art, youth and something new in the air mixes with the sense of ingrained community—kept alive by the local people, the butchers, the cobbler shops. Seeing great gigs in small venues. Bumping into friends on South William Street, when the course of your day changes. Stopping in for a toasted sandwich and pint of Guinness in the charming Grogan’s pub where the unlikeness of the various characters is fascinating to watch: the fixture barflies to the suits, poets, artists, and ladies who wine. Where many an afternoon Pat Bergen, Frank Murray, Danny Rogers and I sat and chatted or listened to Danny’s poems. 

Spontaneous music sessions in friends’ houses and Sunday night tunes in the International bar or Bowe’s. Early morning film previews in almost empty cinemas. That surreal feeling of stepping out of the screening onto bright morning city bustle. Watching the girls in suits and runners power-walking on their lunch break down Baggot Street, talking hurriedly about the weekend and “how much he has changed.” My Irish class in the city centre where my wonderfully funny classmates call me “Bud” and the “Cailín Ōg” and tell me stories of their Dublin, when the houses were collapsing and the church was all there was. The ladies in the class asking me “are ya married?” and when I say no telling me, they’ll pray for me. 

Keogh’s on a Sunday in out of the heavy rain, the men at the bar looking up at the match on one side, and the horse racing on the other. Tweed caps and folded arms, The Sunday papers spread out across tables in the back. 

Open minds yoga and stopping in for a bit of banter with my cobbler friends who work in the Pearse street train station. The Dublin Flea Market in the liberties where my friend DJs and we spend the afternoon buying and selling clothes and chatting to friends. The kebabs in the deceiving kebab shop beside the Hairy Lemon pub. Sushi in ‘Hop House,’ then a visit to The Welcome Inn pub.  The Merrion Square soul festival in the summer, sauntering down the Royal Canal and down the backs of Portobello streets. 

This is my Dublin—the things that make this city magical in my eyes. Perhaps this is its hay day or maybe it is just the perfect place for twenty-eight-year-old me. 

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Tara Power

Tara is an actor, writer, lecturer and drama practitioner living in Clonmel, Tipperary. She writes prose, poetry and short stories, many of which she performs at spoken word nights. Tara lectures in TU Dublin on the Early Childhood and Social Care BA looking at the ways that drama education, creativity and play can be used in practice. She recently lived in Beijing,

China where she worked using drama with children. Tara weaves her adventures, different life perspectives and experiences into her writing. Tara loves to perform on stage and radio and is happiest when doing an interpretative dance.