DFCI8@M GDCBGCF98 6M
barfly
#3":8"5$) 5)& )"3#063 #"3 words // OISÍN MURPHY picture // FREIDA GARDNER It’s wintertime in 2007. I’m sitting in the smoking area in the Harbour Bar in Bray. I’m holding an empty Bavaria tankard and considering taking it home with me. “Do it, faggot! Steal that mother-bitch!” Anton assures me it’s okay. “Yeah, I’ll do it. I’ll do it.” I do it. But not quite. Just before the glorious tankard reaches my bag, I am tapped on the shoulder by the bouncer and pointed towards the street. I accept my fate with humility, exiting with my head lowered, the large man’s hand on my back. “Better off sticking to the books, mate!” What did he mean - oh yeah, I’m wearing glasses, very good. Anton shrugs it off with characteristic grace: “That place is gay anyway, let’s go back to mine and play Dead or Alive: Xtreme Beach Volleyball.” It is now the summer of 2010, and I am making my first trip to the Harbour
52
TOTALLY DUBLIN
Bar in months, having resumed my custom irregularly in the last year or so. According to the Lonely Planet website, it’s the 43rd best bar in the world. I wouldn’t be inclined to disagree, although I certainly have no grounds for substantiating such a claim other than that I like the place a great deal. It’s fantastic. Its authenticity seems genuinely authentic, which is refreshing in a country where said authenticity is often “achieved” amongst and to the delight of swelling crowds of financial workers and suitwearing students. Of course, in order to make such a distinction between the authentically authentic and the faux authentic, I must subscribe to the very linguistic contrivance: seeking true and definite meaning in the word “authentic”, which bothers me so much about how “charming” or “rustic” such pubs are taken to be. Nevertheless, it stands to reason that, with an interior that seems like it hasn’t been changed nor subject to the presence of an actuary or comptroller in fifty years or so, the Harbour Bar can lay claim to a certain unassuming credibility of its own. Pints of Bavaria are three euro each, leaving any right-thinking patron with no other option. The smoking area is warm and lively and I am in good company. The only downside is the occasionally risible
playlist of the evening, which at one point throws up a painful gem in the shape of Brian Kennedy’s cover of The Streets’ Dry Your Eyes. It’s a young crowd that frequent this place, straddling the dicktwistingly cosmetic divide between the self-ordained mainstream and subcultural social ranks of suburban Dublin. Is this communal spirit the true “beauty” of a pub, in all its authenticity? Can true social harmony be achieved over three euro pints while a Northern Irish man sings “the wicked thing about us is that we always have trust”? Like the eccentric decoration of the establishment itself, the overall charm of the Harbour Bar is in its peculiarity. It seems unplanned, a pub born of bohemian spontaneity and dim lighting, the only part of which that exists is its own lack of alignment: socially, architecturally and functionally. It is most definitely worth the journey from the city centre. “Come on, man it’s free in before 11,” Anton is rushing me down the seafront towards the Bacbar, Bray’s prevailing club destination, “I’m barely even pissed yet.” Anton has opted for the ubiquitous shoulder of Glen’s and a Coke, which he’s been guzzling since he met me outside the Harbour Bar less than a minute ago in alternating sips of each drink, the two eventually mixing within his body. He jumps and kicks the wing-mirror of a hatchback parked on the side of the road, knocking it to the path, spinning and casting off shards of reflective glass like sea foam. We’re all probably implicated in this. That said, despite Anton having been there (so long ago now), despite it being potentially open to the custom of anybody, the Harbour Bar is a first-class pub. To find genuine comfort and beauty in the midst of consumer excess, indulgence and aggression is a lot to expect from a licensed premises, but it surely delivers a uniquely brilliant drinking experience, recommendable to anyone. Bavaria tankards abound on ebay for less than a tenner, if you’re interested. Seapoint Road Bray, Co. Wicklow t: 01 2862274
www.totallydublin.ie