Shamrocks in Paris

We are all aware of my building, growing, fantasy-filled longing for Ireland. In my dreams, it is a magical fairy land of legends and myths and princess castles for me to dance in. All of that, coupled with my bits of Irish heritage, 10 years of Irish Step Dancing experience, and my recent luck o' the Irishmen, very clearly resulted in my need to celebrate Saint Patrick's day this past Monday evening. There is a small chain of Irish pubs in Paris called "Corcoran's", which also just happens to be the last name of some of my very dear extended family. In their illustrious honor, I made it my mission to venture to this bar for at least one drink. I mentioned my Saint Paddy's Day agenda to some classmates, who were very keen on the mission, and we made our plans from there. One of my classmates (an American as well!) is fortunate enough to live with her husband in a beautiful apartment right near Saint-Michel, which is also the home of one of these family namesake pubs. Now that the setting was decided and the characters chosen, the only thing left was to see how the plot of the evening would pan out. 

We met at my friends apartment, and of course I was the one 3 minutes early, as opposed to normal Europeans who were appropriately late. As I was heading up the elevator I realized, well of course the American would not only be on time, but annoyingly early to boot! Happily, Americans sympathize with the habits of other Americans, so I was fondly greeted and began my evening with a nice helping of Bailey's on the rocks. My dear step-mother is a notorious Bailey's imbiber, so I tipped my hat to her via my inaugural Irish drink. As our small band of partiers gradually convened, I bedecked everyone's face with shamrocks and glitter so that we could blend in with the crowds of green on the streets. I honestly wasn't sure what Saint Patrick's Day would be like in Paris. The streets were certainly not jam-packed with Irish revelers in general, but the Irish pubs around town were overflowing with glee. That being said, the street outside of Corcoran's was drowning in drinkers, and we tried without success to get drinks at the main bar upstairs after swimming through the crowd to get in. Finally, we discovered a smaller bar downstairs that allowed us the opportunity to actually order a drink but regrettably didn't have any Jameson on hand for my chosen beverage of the evening. 

After having our requisite drink at an Irish pub and taking the necessary pics, we decided to venture down the street to somewhere not quite as out of control, but mainly for the purposes of actually being able to locate some Jameson. As fate would have it, our travels ended at a Canadian bar, still busy with holiday cheer but without the inability to drink alcohol in a timely fashion. Yes indeed, this American in Paris ended up at a Canadian bar on Saint Patrick's Day. Still, the ladies and I had a wonderful time, drinking our Irish drinks, chatting up a storm, and having some Irish girls approach us with a poster of a leprechaun they wanted us to take pictures with (see below!) But tragically, my quest to to have an Irishman kiss me because I'm Irish was completely thwarted! Instead, a random Albanian man tried to make out with me as I was headed back to the table from the bathroom... Classy... Yes, we had already had a conversation, it wasn't completely arbitrary, but I'm sorry... If you don't have an Irish accent I want nothing to do with you when I am fully dressed in bright green and can't help having Riverdance pulsing through my brain all night while rainbows are sparkling in front of my eyes. Though in hindsight, perhaps those are signs of Irish withdrawal...Must needs return to the Emerald Isles stat ; )