Somehow Ireland became fashionable over the last decade or so and Irish Pubs started springing up from Tokyo to Sao Paulo like dew mushrooms from peat bogs. Never ones to miss a trend, Daniel O’Cooper and “Irish Stu” Singleton follow the rainbows to Bangkok’s ubiquitous contributions to this staggeringly popular pub genre, in a quest to turn themselves green.
7:46, Shamrock, Khaosan Road
Dan: By beginning the night’s frivolities near Untamed Travel Global Headquarters, we were ensured quick service in a familiar locale. Looks like we started things a bit early, as Shamrock was almost empty, which made things tough for the three-piece on stage. I’ve been to this ‘Irish’ pub a few times before and have known it as a great beer-hall packed to the rafters with pissed-up backpackers, and also as the happiest hunting ground for the Khaosan Stalker. Although lacking the usual appointments that make up the Irish package-pub (Guinness posters and green paint, mostly), the place did attract a group of four genuinely Irish women. Edel from Kerry described the place as “Quiet, subdued, a bit like home. Every Irish pub should make you feel like you’re in your sitting room.” I asked Katie from Mayo how she’d make the place more Irish. “Get a few old men falling asleep over their pints.” I said I’d do my best.
Stu: O’Bejesus! These prices be too high for a poor potato planter like me. Being on Khaosan, I was shocked and awed by the cost of the liquor, an offence only outweighed by the arctic aircon. My Irish heritage was offended by being offered Newcastle Brown Ale and John Smith’s on entry. Six horses of graveyard clay upon them! No hooley dancers, Irish wit or drunken fools made me feel rather out of place. Our conclusion, Thai people can’t do Irish pubs.
9:45 O’Reilly’s, Silom Road
Stu: Oh what a mistake! To leave the tender embrace of Shamrock for Bangkok traffic. What should have been a matter of minutes and 70 baht turned into a bladder-bursting hour-long ordeal. The ride of shame between Khaosan and Silom (read: Patpong) was tonight as congested as an Irishman’s arteries. With the night quickly vanishing, we ditched the cab and legged it to the metro station for another wait. Finally arrived, it was straight to the bar for a pint of dinner – it could only be Guinness. Like Irish pubs all over the world O’Reilly’s boasts plenty of dark wood, live music and a shitload of booze.
Dan: Just in case we thought we could close our eyes for a minute and imagine ourselves upon the emerald isle, Thailand strikes again. Truly, there is nothing worse than being stationary in traffic while you slowly become sober. Things, of course, could be worse. For example, poor old Stu was badly in need of relief. When things became too much, the only thing for it was to abandon the taxi and run up the road to a dark corner. Hardly a proud moment, but by way of concession, all he had to do was wait until we caught up to him in the taxi.
10:50, Irish X-Change, Soi Convent
Dan: A short stagger around the corner, we entered that other cornerstone of Irish drinking, the Irish X-change. Shame Ireland’s on the Euro now. The X-change is known for its fine food and big crowds when there’s a sports match on. Doesn’t matter what sport, people just like going to the pub. Manager Mark got in a round while reminding us that the X-change is an Irish bar, rather than an Irish pub. Very much the place for 21st century drinking.
Stu: More an expat hangout than a tourist-trap, the Irish X-change has two levels, each featuring a fully-functional bar, probably so drunkards don’t have to negotiate the staircases for a pint. It is incumbent on us to mention that the international pisshead hall of fame is sadly short one portrait. The management appeals to the public for information leading to the return of George Best. With the night quickly expiring, it was time to move on.
12:10, The Dubliner, Sukhumvit Road
Stu: We saved the best for last, hitting what could be mistaken for the Irish consulate of Bangkok. Having just missed the kitchen closing time, we filled up on Guinness instead, washed down with a few Kilkennys. That’s the great thing with Guinness – there’s more eating than drinking in it. Three levels of cosiness and subdued lighting appropriate to my drunken state, heaven was a leather upholstered chair.
Dan: I was looking forward to finally having a pint and bite in the Dubliner. Sadly that was not to be, the menu of 13 hamburgers and Irish treats such as soda bread from their on-site bakery just seemed like a mean joke now. However the affable manager gave us a tour of the premises, interspersed with amusing anecdotes about the place. The one that sticks in my mind was about a group of Irish tourists who came for breakfast and stayed until close, a fine set of innings in anyone’s book. The end of the night arrived and we were politely brushed onto the street. Our lightning drinking tour of Ireland had been a fine craic but now it was time to go home and dream of four-leafed clovers and leprechauns to cover the bar bill.