FOREWORD
agency colleagues in Tourism Ireland, Enterprise Ireland and Bord Bia who work with us throughout the year. It is a time of great celebration for the wider global Irish family as we join together despite the borders, oceans and miles that may separate us. Celebrations differ from country to country but their common thread is pride in Irish heritage and culture. Our community has worked hard to organise the events that will mark St Patrick’s Day in Copenhagen and to reach out to join with our Danish and other friends in that celebration. Why do you think there has been such a seismic shiſt in its popularity in recent years? This may be due to more positive developments in Ireland’s own social, cultural and economic life, which have led to growing confidence and pride in what it means to be Irish. Adrian McDaid has been the Irish ambassador to Denmark since last autumn. This will be his first St Patrick’s Day in Copenhagen and CPH POST recently caught up with him to see how he will be celebrating. Mr Ambassador, your CV reveals you’ve had some incredibly interesting postings, including in Russia during the Cold War, Iraq just a year before its invasion of Kuwait, and New York in September 2001. How does Copenhagen compare since you became the Irish ambassador to Denmark last year? There is an ancient Chinese curse: “May you live in interesting times!”. Some of us may be tempted at times to think that there is a version for diplomats – “May you be posted to interesting embassies!”. I have certainly had some very interesting postings that have also been very rewarding experiences, both personally and professionally. I am already very much enjoying my time here. As I was leaving my previous post in Moscow, one of the Nordic ambassadors there told me that I would be in good hands since the Danes were regarded as the Irish of Scandinavia! I took that as a compliment to us both. Copenhagen is a very beautiful city and I look forward to exploring it and the other cities of Denmark. The Irish community here, over 2,000 strong, is more numerous than in Moscow, but just a little bit smaller than in New York! You’re looking forward to your first St Patrick’s Day here. How do you expect it to compare to the other countries you’ve served in? St Patrick’s Day is always very special for all Irish ambassadors wherever they are serving. It is the time in the year when Ireland’s profile is at its highest. We can expect to be busy together with our state
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Another factor is the huge contribution that past and current generations of Irish emigrants have made to the communities and societies in which they have forged new lives. Parades and other events are oſten an occasion to recognise and honour the achievements of prominent members of the community. Culture is the window through which people elsewhere first come to know Ireland – especially our literature, dance and music. As a distinguished globetrotter yourself, why do you think St Patrick is such a good traveller? We know St Patrick as a man whose life story in the 5th century AD embodied the values of solidarity, friendship and concern for others. His own story of migration reflects a theme that remains an important and indelible part of the Irish national experience – part of who we are as a nation and part of what shapes our outlook on the world. It is a theme that helps foster both a sense of resilience in adversity and an optimism that leads us to view the world as a source of opportunity and not a threat. Across the generations since St Patrick, there have been many forms of Irish migration, involuntary as well as voluntary: some impelled by desperation, some by hope for a better future, and some by a curiosity and desire to explore new horizons. These experiences have provided us with a large diaspora – one that gives us an enduring connection with our contemporary Irish family abroad and with those of Irish heritage throughout the world. Ireland today has a population of some 4.6 million, but it is estimated that the diaspora numbers 70 million people. Over the years they have made their own distinctive contributions to Irish life and culture and further helped to define what it means to be Irish today.
What is it about the Danish-Irish relationship that distinguishes it from others? I think all bilateral relationships are unique. In my short time here, I have been struck by the similarities between Ireland and Denmark, by our strong support of a multilateral rules-based international system, and by the shared values which we promote. We now more oſten find ourselves working closely together within the EU, which we both joined in 1973, or within the UN, including in UN peacekeeping operations, and the projects we undertake in developing countries in pursuit of the SDGs. We are both small northern European countries shaped by the sea and by our outreach to the world. While Denmark was an independent kingdom long before Ireland won its own independence just a century ago, our peoples have been entwined since the Viking settlements began in the 9th century. Our co-operation in the extraordinary project concerning the Sea Stallion of Glendalough, a reconstructed Viking ship, was important in celebrating that joint historical experience and honouring the links established with the descendants of those Viking settlers who we are proud to call friends and partners in the modern world. Has the spirit of the Irish community, and the fact that they seem so contented in having planted roots here, surprised you? I already knew that Denmark is home to a large and vibrant Irish community. I have had the great pleasure of meeting many of them personally and so am now more conscious of the hugely significant role that they have played in the growth and strengthening of relations with Denmark over the years. My own mission and that of the Embassy is to do what I can to further develop and strengthen the bilateral relationship between our two countries. I count myself fortunate indeed to have the invaluable support from such an active community in that endeavour. How will you be celebrating? There is a range of activities planned by the Irish community here, so I know it will be a busy day. We are a small Embassy but we hope to make an appearance at as many as possible. The three legged-race must be unique to Copenhagen. It seems a lot of fun and has raised a huge amount for charity over the years. While, the theme of the parade is “Everybody is Irish on St Patrick’s Day” and I hope your readers will embrace the celebrations in that spirit. This interview was conducted before the cancellation of the National Day reception and 3-Legged Charity Race
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baked specially for the occasion. Free face-painting for children will take place inside the tent between 15:00 and 17:00 to make sure they look properly festive! Aſter all, the organisers stress that this, above everything, is a family event. It is important to remember to wear green to the event – but just in case you forget, a costume shop will be open inside the tent where you can buy some last-minute shamrock-inspired apparel.
BY NATHAN WALMER Now in its 16th year, the Copenhagen St Patrick’s Day Parade has established itself as one of the capital’s highlights. The event organisers welcome everyone to participate in the annual parade through the streets of Copenhagen – so long as you’re wearing green of course – and join the patron saint and Irish wolfhounds that customarily lead the procession. St Patrick might be the patron saint of Ireland, but on his feast day on March 17 “everyone is Irish!” With its origins as a 17th century religious festival for feasting, the holiday has grown in international appeal over the years and is now synonymous all over the world with shamrocks, oversized green hats, lively parades and merriment – an occasion for everyone to enjoy! For over a decade now, the Copenhagen St. Patrick’s Day Parade has been turning the streets of Copenhagen awash with green! Going green “The motivation for organising a big event like a parade in Copenhagen was to give the Irish expats living here, along with people from all nationalities who are fascinated by or feel a connection to Ireland, a platform where they can celebrate Ireland’s national day with the whole family at a family-friendly event,” the parade’s co-organiser
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Marianne Green told CPH POST in 2017. “The ‘Everyone is Irish’ slogan we chose felt right because it is so important for us to invite and engage people who are not familiar with Irish culture or are not Irish and send a message that we can all share and take part in each other’s cultural celebrations across nationalities and culture.” In testament to the cultural inclusivity of the city, each year the celebrations continue to grow as Copenhageners delight in a taste of all things Irish. With so much live music, face painting, traditional dancing and Irish coffee to consider, CPH POST is here to give you a rundown of what is planned for the day. Return to Rådhuspladsen The City Hall Square will act as the main location for the festivities. A large tent will be set up in the square to accommodate face painting and a costume shop to buy all the necessary green accessories for the parade, while live entertainment will take place on stage. And, of course, no St Patrick’s Day tent would be complete without an Irish café and bar. The festivities commence at 13:00 with the opening of the café serving Irish whiskey from Tullamore Dew, Irish beer from O’Hara’s Craſt Brewery and hot chocolate. Make sure you try one of the custom-made St Patrick’s Day cookies
Next to the tent in the square, an open-air stage will play host to live folk music and traditional dancing from 15:30 – including a set performed by The Early House – right up until the parade is scheduled to begin. All the best of Irish musical traditions will be there to lend City Hall Square a distinctly Irish tune. Join the parade Anyone wearing green can freely take part in the parade and walk along with the likes of the Bodhrán Band and the Dark Green School of Irish Dancing. Well-known actor Ian Burns returns this year to lead the procession as St Patrick himself, and a few four-legged companions in the form of Irish wolfhounds and terriers will follow behind – doubtlessly wagging their tails through the streets of Copenhagen. Make sure you arrive well before 17:00 to secure your spot in the parade – and again (not sure if we mentioned it) don’t forget to wear green! Starting from Rådhuspladsen at 17:00 the parade will follow a route along Vester Voldgade, Vestergade, Gammel Torv, Nytorv, Rådhusstræde, Stormgade and Vester Voldgade, before returning to Rådhuspladsen. THE SCHEDULE - 13:00: Café/bar and costume shop open - 15:00-17:00: Free face-painting for children - 15:30-17:00: Live Irish music and dance on the open-air stage - 16:00-17:00: Parade participants start gathering - 17:00-17:45: Parade duration
LET’S GET TOGETHER 13 TH-17 TH MARCH ansvarlignydelse.dk
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BORN IN IRELAND, LOVED IN DENMARK: A LIFETIME IN BETWEEN COOGAN, THE FOUNDER OF COPENHAGEN CELTIC, AND TIM TYNAN, THE COOWNER OF KENNEDY’S IRISH BAR, REFLECT ON THEIR DECADES OF RESIDENCE IN THE COUNTRY THEY SOMETIMES STILL CAUTIOUSLY REFER TO AS HOME
the interviewer said: ‘Why do you wanna become a chef?’ I started telling him: ‘I work in Blackrock Castle’ – it was the place in Ireland. Then, the guy asked: ‘You work in Blackrock Castle?’ ‘Yes, but only as a bar boy.’ ‘Do you know Jim Gallagher?’ ‘Yeah.’ ‘He … I taught him!’ All of a sudden, there was no more talk about me, it was ‘How’s Jim doing and all that, and ‘Oh, by the way, you got the job, you’re through.’ So what you know is who you know. My mother was so proud.” Chop that flour son! Coogan packed up and moved to Maynooth to attend the two-year catering college course. He was 15 at the time: “That’s where I became a man. When you go in for the first time, you have never put on a chef’s uniform before. You haven’t a fucking clue. And you know what the guys in their second year had us doing? Chopping flour. For six hours, til we got blisters. That’s cruel. They were takin’ the piss. That was just tradition, but when we became second year students we stopped it; we said that’s not fair to anyone. There was no more shit.” Today, the place is a college in Ireland but it used to be a seminary. “We were catering for the guys who were studying to become priests. It was actually child labour. We weren’t getting any money and we were working fuckin’ six days a week. Catholics, huh? Fuck off.”
BY SOMA BIRÓ He put his right hand behind my head and pulled it to the right. Meanwhile, his leſt hand liſted my right arm in the same direction. I was on the ground in a few seconds and Coogan almost fell aſter me as he finished the move. He pulled me up with two hands and it was my turn to try. “It works and guys are afraid of you — they think you know more, even though you don’t. I used it twice in action and the guys were immediately going: ‘Nej, nej, undskyld, det var ikke det jeg mente.’” Walls and shelves full of history We started talking karate soon aſter he showed me a green engraved plate given to him as a gesture of appreciation by his fellow members at Copenhagen Celtic – the football club he co-founded – and a picture of his shocked expression in the moment the door opened onto his surprise 60th birthday party about six years ago. “But this is the most impressive one,” he said, pointing at a large framed piece of paper with a picture and some writing on it, including some Japanese letters. “My son’s black belt diploma,” he said proudly with an Irish accent. “I was standing in the kitchen one day, cooking, and I felt this slap on my head,” Coogan told me and slapped me lightly. “I said: ‘Fuckin’ eh, what’s going on!?’ I thought Sean was slapping me to get me pissed off. I turned around and it’s Sean, but he’s not slapping me, he’s kicking me with his right foot. He said: ‘Dad, I need to practise my kicks.’ Imagine how hard it is kicking the top
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of someone’s head while standing.’” Coogan assisted Sean in teaching some kickboxing for a while and that’s where he learned the move I was taught. Besides being a skilled martial artist, Coogan’s son is now also a journalist at DR and a player for CPH Celtic. “Sean is Irish,” Coogan said. “He has Celtic scores in his head,” he added, referring to Glasgow Celtic, Ireland’s most beloved team outside the country and the namesake of his own club. “As for my daughter Megan, she’s more Danish. She thinks people in Cork are a bit …” said Coogan, gesturing circles at his right temple jokingly. In the corridors of Cork Yes, Aidan Coogan comes from the second largest city in Ireland: Cork. Growing up there, he went to a school for learning trades (“I have never experienced so much violence in my life”), when one day an unexpected new opportunity presented itself. “I’ll tell you a very quick story now, and I hope I’m not boring the pants off you. The teacher came in and said: ‘Does anyone want to become a chef or a waiter?’ For fuck’s sake, I thought, that was a surprise. ‘There’s an interview in the aſternoon and you get the aſternoon off if you go for it’. So we went and there were guys from other schools there and we were kicking the shit out of each other in the corridors when the interviewer came out and said: ‘If there are any more fights, all the interviews are off!’ Then, it was my time to go in and
A tale of many cities Aſter he graduated, Coogan’s job and desire to travel took him many places. First there was Killarney in Ireland (“It was a shithole”), then Kinsale (“I fell in love with the place”), Hotel St Gotthard in Zürich (“They spoke French, German and Italian and no-one spoke a fuckin’ word of English. Bastards. And they treated me like shit. But they taught me how to cook … really”), Swansea in South Wales (“It was an experience that changed my life. I’d been a virgin up until then, because I was waiting for this girl I was in love with, and, well, the Welsh women have no morals, so I died and went to heaven. And I mean that. Also because the price of a pint was 39 pence at the time in Ireland, and in Swansea it was 15. I got over my heartbreak eventually as you can imagine. But aſter almost three years, I realised that if I didn’t leave now I was gonna die soon. Between drinking and screwing around there wasn’t much else and that’s not good. You need to focus in life”), Frankfurt (“I knew I needed a kick up the arse and I got a kick up the arse because Germans won’t take any shit”), Munich (“the most beautiful place I’ve ever been to. By then I spoke German”), Perth, Australia (“Put your clock forward eight hours and travel back in time ten years – it was so old-fashioned, and I thought Ireland was bad, but Perth is the arsehole of fuckin’ nowhere”). And Denmark.
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Got some shampoo? The restaurant Coogan worked at in Copenhagen is called Peder Oxe. “The women were … I swear to god, you had to be a model to get a job there. And in Denmark in general, girls would come down with no clothes and say: ‘Coogan, can I borrow some shampoo?’ Just unbelievable, you know. But it was natural – it wasn’t teasing or anything. It was very difficult for an Irish guy to see girls so natural. And sex was just, no problem, you know. No-one got jealous if you had sex with someone else – it was just free and easy.” However, it was actually an Australian girl Coogan fell in love with while in Perth. Her name was Tracey: “A good girl.” Their road was long and winding: Coogan moved to Denmark, Tracey got married, they reconnected, she divorced, and finally she decided to follow Coogan to Copenhagen. “She phoned me and she said: ‘I’m giving up my job, I’m getting divorced, I’m coming to live with ya.’ Can you imagine that? I mean, I was in shock. For a girl to take such a risk on me …” Coogan’s eyes started to well a bit. “That’s why, though we’re divorced now, we’re best friends. She gave me two great kids and she gave up a lot for me. A lot. She gave up her teaching job and came over here to do dishwashing. Can you believe it? Until she got a job at an international school later on.” Coogan’s Copenhagen Celtic Then, in 1981, Coogan and two colleagues started the football club that would eventually become Copenhagen Celtic. “That was the best thing we ever did. I was sous-chef in Peder Oxe, and so I was hiring staff. And a very important question was whether you could play football. If you could cook and play football – but playing football was a little bit more important in those days. We won the league the first year. Mostly Irish, English and Scottish players and two Danes. If it wasn’t for the football team, a lot of guys would’ve gone home. A lot of them stayed for the football and then eventually they met some Danish girls and settled. Now we have nine teams. One of the guys we can thank for that is Baller, who I just need to mention because he has done a lot for the club. The club has got huge.
This is also very sad in a way. In the old days, we knew every player. Now there are so many teams and it’s mostly Danes. I can’t keep up with it.” There are CPH Celtic pictures all over the walls at Coogan’s and, walking around in Kennedy’s Irish Bar the next day, I came upon another one, right across the end of the long bar with its 20 taps. Tim Tynan, the co-founder of Kennedy’s, used to play for the team himself. Tim and the kibbutz Like Coogan, Tim is a true adventurer, an Irishman who travelled and saw the world before eventually settling in Denmark. “You can tell everyone I was a refugee of the heart. The classic story.” Tim met ‘the girl’ at a kibbutz in Israel in 1988. “Many people had the same experience: met some young Danish girl in a kibbutz. The amount of Danes that used to be out there was unbelievable actually. There was also a history of zionism aſter the Second World War in Denmark. The story goes that Danes helped many Jewish people get across to Sweden on boats and stuff. The thing that you went there – became a volunteer, helped out and met others from all over the world – was a thing people did back then. And I just ended up there … Aſter a drunken night with somebody I met in Crete. We decided we would go to Israel via Turkey – where we spent six weeks first.” Prior to that, Tim worked in a taverna in Greece: “That was pretty cool; money was shit, but it was sunshine all year long”. Prior to that, he had a job in Germany, and prior to that, he travelled around Europe in a camper van with a friend. He leſt Ireland at the age of 21. One large Irish family All of the rest of Tim’s family stayed in Ireland, and what a family that is: he has six sisters and two brothers. Tim remembered going camping around Ireland in a Renault 4L: “With eight kids on the backseat and the baby on my mother’s knee in the front. And there were no seat belts. But my father drove what, 55 km/h? Eventually he bought a minibus … or, an old van he tried to turn into a minibus.”
TIM TYNAN Tim also remembered another side of growing up in County Wexford: sports: “Back then, if you went to a match as a kid, playing hurling or football, your parents never went to see you play when you were 10 or 12 years of age. You just went down to the neighbour, who was the trainer of the team, and he would take 10 kids in the back of his Hillman Hunter and we would drive off to the match. He’d drive us home again, sometimes stopping in the pub on the way or even having a couple of pints of beer. And he’d be smoking at the same time as driving us. We’d go into the pub as well and he would buy a large bottle of soda and we’d share that between us.” “There wasn’t much money going around,” so Tim worked on occasion from the age of 12. He picked strawberries in the summer. “Whole families would pick them sometimes. Also, some people used to move out of their homes and live in a caravan for the summer so they could rent out their bedrooms to people from Dublin. Airbnb!” Pray first, pleasure later Religion was also a dominant element of many lives in Ireland in the 70s. When I inquired about the reach
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different than them. I think that attitude has changed. Now a lot of people want you to conform to what they are. But there is still an element of Danes being relatively non-judgemental.” “We totally embraced the nightlife here, us Irish lads. We partied all night,” added Tony, who also explained to me that he made his hobby his living when they opened the pub. “I used to love going home 7 o’clock in the morning, watching people go to work,” added Tim. Tony laughed: “Walking the dogs. But yes, everything was more liberal here than in Ireland.” “Yeah, and you were never judged. Other than … by your girlfriend of course.” Hvad siger du? But being a foreigner also provided some trials and tribulations. Once the guys were here and decided to stay in Copenhagen, they had to deal with the strange creature who inhabited their new home: the Dane.
of Catholicism into the Tynan household, Tim simply smiled and then responded: “We used to say the rosary at night-time. Yeah, most days. And the fun bit was when you tried to go out Saturday night, and your mother tried to get you to say the rosary before you went out. And the most embarrassing thing was when a friend came to collect you, and they would also have to say the rosary before you went out. There was a lot of tongue and cheek about it, but there was a lot of religion in the house.” Back to the kibbutz girl But back to the Danish girl Tim fell head over heels for: aſter the kibbutz, she went with Tim to London, where he worked in construction. She then moved back to Denmark a year and a half later and it was Tim’s turn to go aſter her. Thus he arrived in 1990. However, their relationship eventually “fizzled out”, as Tim put it. “Heart got broken, boy was shattered … but boy regained his confidence. I leſt Denmark and travelled some more, did a round-the-world trip and came back again and settled down. And I do like it here. It’s a funny thing about Denmark, and a lot of people realise this when they’ve been here for a while: you get used to the system, the way of life here. You feel safe and comfortable. And then, of course, I met another woman, who I married and have children with, so you can say I got stuck here, but I’m happy to be stuck here.” “This second woman: was she also Danish?” I asked. “Yes … might not be the second one though; there might have been a couple in between. But we definitely don’t want to talk about them.” Ode to Irish coffee Now, let’s stop for a moment here for a word on Irish coffee. Around the middle of our conversation,
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aſter he told me how good he is at making them, I asked Coogan if I might have a try. He didn’t have all the ingredients, but he offered me some hot toddy instead: whiskey with hot water poured over it. Then in Kennedy’s it finally happened. “We have the best Irish coffee in town. You can put that in writing,” asserted its server with a finger pointing in the air in front of him for emphasis, either before or aſter I ordered one for myself. Let’s just say, I had three of them and that Tim wouldn’t let me pay for a single one. It’s the only one I’ve tried, but I don’t have much doubt that Tony is indeed telling the truth. By the way, Coogan also revealed to me the origins of Irish coffee, as well as duty free shops (both happened the same day and in Ireland), but that’s for another time, a different place and a longer word count. Being Irish in Denmark “The ladies love the Irish accent,” the Irish coffee provider now identified as Tony Kennedy told me from behind the bar while I was interviewing his partner in crime at a corner table. The two are the masterminds behind Kennedy’s. Tony also told me about his first girlfriend in Denmark: a Hungarian woman. The relationship didn’t work out though: “Us Irish boys are a little wild. It’s hard to pin us down.” “The first relationship never works out here,” Tim added, so I inquired: “Why is that?” “I can’t answer ya!” he replied before answering: “What it is, is … when we get here, we go, wow so this is what freedom is like!” ‘I love Rock ’n’ Roll’ was playing in the background at this point. “Whether it’s freedom of the women or just the way of life.” “Things were very laid-back here. You could do what you wanted and nobody really worried about you. They mightn’t interact with you sometimes, but they still didn’t mind that you did something
“Here’s another story for ya. It’s a classic actually,” Coogan said with a smile on his face. “The first Danish school I went to, they told me that my pronunciation was very bad and I should go and learn to read and write. So I went and learned to read and write Danish in a different school. One day, the teacher called me aside and told me that I was doing really, really well. First compliment I ever got about my Danish. So, I go down to get the train home to Lyngby and there was a kiosk at Nørreport Station. It was covered in signs of Mars bars all over the place. So, there I am, thinking: ‘I’m fucking fluent in Danish now.’” Coogan clapped his hands together, rubbing them enthusiastically, ready to go into that kiosk again, living the moment retold. “So, I go in and say: ‘Må jeg bede om en Mars chokolade?’ and the woman says: ‘Hvad siger du?’ ‘Mars chokolade.’ ‘Hvad for noget?’ ‘Mars …’ and then I said ‘Fuckin’ stupid…’’’ Coogan stood up from the couch and walked up to an imaginary Mars sign: “I fucking started kicking the sign and banging the fucking sign and shouting: ‘Mars! Mars!! Fucking Maaaaars!!!’ ‘Nå… Mars’. “Jesus Christ, I just wanna … fuck this, I thought, I don’t give a fuck anymore. I mean, come on, the whole kiosk was covered in signs of fuckin’ Mars chocolate and she didn’t understand. ‘Nå… Mars’. I mean, seriously, come on. It’s ridiculous. But Danes are not used to foreigners speaking their language and they’re very fuckin’ lazy. What else could it be?” “I’m here 41 years in Denmark and people still say: ‘Jeg fortsår ikke hvad du siger,’” Coogan admitted, though he actually speaks the language very well and can occasionally drop near-perfect imitations of typical Danish accents when recounting a story. As for Tim, he told me: “What I found is you have to almost mimic people – how they’re saying it.
FEATURE
I think the Danes don’t really care if you get the grammar wrong, but if you don’t pronounce it right, they can’t understand it.” Social obstacles “Danes can be a bit standoffish,” jumped in Tony while passing by behind Tim and me. “They keep to themselves, whereas in Ireland, they’d be asking you: ‘Just where are you from?’ Irish people are more curious.”. “You have to break down barriers sometimes,” said Tim, taking over again. “I find that if I’m with a group of Danish people, even at a school meeting or something like that, people talk to somebody else instead of talking to me. Because I’m not Danish. Sometimes I think I’m just paranoid, but if I’m there with my wife, they talk to my wife. They don’t talk to me. It’s like I don’t understand them or something, you know. So very oſten there’s that barrier to start with.” “Somebody said this to me one time: the difference between an Irish person and a Dane is about five beers. It takes them that much to relax and fuckin’ loosen their tongue,” Tony explained. “But I’m a quiet Irish man,” Tim responded, taking part of the blame himself. “There’s a shyness there as well, okay, so then you have to do some of the work. They are more inclusive, Irish people. But, you see, I haven’t lived there for a long, long time. And how do foreigners in Ireland feel? Maybe they feel the same as we feel over here. I don’t know that either.” She died and you never told me!? For Coogan, another difficulty he could never quite adjust to is the Danish relationship with death. “I can’t handle their attitude to death. I find it very, very cold. There was a paint factory in Lyngby with about 18 Irish and English working there. When a guy died, all the Irish took a day off to go to his funeral. But for the Danes, it’s no big deal, you know. The woman who lived upstairs, for example, I looked aſter her for years – taking small messages for her and all that. Very frail woman. But she had a medal for the resistance during the war. And I was very proud to do her messages. But when she died,
nobody told me! So when the daughter came back to the apartment, I said: ‘Come here … what the fuck, why didn’t you tell me she died!?’ She didn’t really answer. So I said: ‘Who was at the funeral?’ She replied: ‘Me and my brother.’ A war hero! How sad is that? But Danes are just funny like that.” “Where I come from, there come hundreds, you know. And in Ireland the wake aſterwards, that’s a party in itself. In the old days, the body was laid out in the kitchen and people would come in to look at the body and they’d have a drop of whiskey and someone would bring a violin, another would bring an accordion and there’d be a party for two days. This still goes on in the country. In the city they bring the body to a funeral parlour. My cousins, when their father died, they had a wake. This was about ten years ago. People drink all night, there’s tea and food and illegal whiskey called poitin, made from potatoes – it’s very dangerous because you don’t know how strong it is.” Community spirit According to Tim, another difference between Ireland and Denmark can be found in the way people relate to their communities: “Here, you pay your taxes and everything is done for. That’s nice and that’s great. But, on the other hand, what it also does is that it stops people from getting involved in the local community. It’s okay regarding your doctor or having your rubbish collected, where not much involvement is needed anyway, but what about your local sports club, for example? In Ireland, people are more involved because they don’t get money from a central fund and they have to fundraise for it or pay for it themselves. So the community spirit in Ireland is probably better than it is here in Denmark. That’s one thing that you could miss.” Where they are now Tim is currently still going strong with Kennedy’s ... and Tony of course. Regarding the future, he told me: “Well, I don’t know what I’ll do. At least until my kids are grown, I don’t think I’m going anywhere. And then maybe I’ll go to the sunshine. Spain, perhaps.”
sible for feeding the next generation of Danes and expats at a kindergarten. He has cooked for many types, famous people even (has an autograph from Pelé), but children are by far his greatest customers: “The kids … the look on their faces, the joy they get. There are these rockstars that wouldn’t even look at ya, just walk past, thanks and fuck off. But the kids come up and go ‘Tak for mad!’ Okay, I’ll give you one last story, very quick: we were waiting by the elevator with one of the kids. He goes ‘Coogan! Coogan!’ and signals for me to get closer. I bend down and listen, and he whispers to me: ‘You went bald!’ Then he says: ‘Look in the mirror.’ So I looked and went ‘Jesus Christ!’ I acted all surprised and told him: ‘It’s between you and me.’ And he was fuckin’ delighted. The innocence of a kid telling ya that you’re bald! Do you understand? It’s so beautiful. ‘You’re going bald, shhhh, let’s keep it between us.’ And he was so proud – you could see the way he was walking. That we have a secret between us, you know. Isn’t that a lovely story?” As Coogan’s face lights up with an enormous smile, I see the man he once was, still youngat-heart today.
COOGAN
Though he’s soon retiring, Coogan is now respon-
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Publisher: CPH POST • Editor: Paul McNamara • CEO: Hans Hermansen • Layout: Christian Wenande • Info: hans@cphpost.dk • Tel: +452420 2411
A TO Z OF IRELAND
A-Z OF IRELAND: CELEBRATING THE ECCENTRIC WORLD OF THE EMERALD ISLE FROM JOE DOLAN TO COLEEN NOLAN, IF THIS LOT DOESN’T GET YOU IN THE MOOD FOR DANCING, NOTHING WILL
BY PAUL MCNAMARA A is for the Angelus, the most familiar sound in Ireland … aſter a car alarm. Televised twice a day, the Angelus bells are rung to remind the nation of the incarnation. Since 1950, a one-minute recording has been broadcast daily at 12:00 and 18:00 – the latter just before the main evening news. Originally a recording made at Saint Mary’s Pro-Cathedral – the seat of the archbishop of Dublin – the religious imagery visuals were removed in 2009, confirmation that Angelus today is a very lengthy dinner bell. B is for Bloomsday on June 16, an occasion oſten overshadowed by St Patrick’s Day but growing in popularity. Named aſter Leopold Bloom, the main character in James Joyce’s ‘Ulysses’, participants dress up in Edwardian costumes to retrace Bloom’s routes around Dublin, visiting all the landmarks in the book. A pub in Copenhagen of the same name had a similar crowd: expats dressed liked it was still the 1990s who always got lost returning home. C is for Craic, the Irish word for fun, a relatively new addition to the Irish language (circa 1960s), and its usage is as addictive as its namesake drug. As Damien McNamara from Tallaght in Dublin explains: “It can just about be squeezed into any sentence ranging from greetings, put-downs and compliments to even ordering food.” D is for Dolan, as in “there’s no show like a Joe show” Dolan, Ireland’s answer to Cliff Richard (without the accusations of impropriety), who had number one hits in the 1960s, 1970s, 1980s
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and 1990s, but virtually no success (just like Cliff) outside his home country. Joe is the only person to have sold a body part on eBay – a hip bone to raise money for charity. E is for the Eurovision Song Contest, a competition that Ireland has shamefully taken too seriously over the last 50 years, winning it a record seven times, including three on the trot in the 1990s, which resulted in substantial hosting duty costs threatening to derail Ireland’s economic revival. Since then their entries have been deliberately bad. F is for feck, as in feck off, which is very different from being told to f##k off. G is for Gaeltacht, the name given to primarily Irish-speaking regions. The term was officially recognised during the 1920s in the early years of the Irish Free State, following the Gaelic Revival, as part of a governmental policy aimed at restoring the Irish language. Saying it correctly is half the battle. H is for Hibernian, Ireland’s name in ancient times, a place so sodden and depressing that even the Romans didn’t fancy it. The legend has it that it was infested with snakes – resulting in hundreds of years of serpentine servitude until Paddy the herdsman drove them out and they made him a saint. “The more cynical among us believe that they all drowned ‘cause of all the rain,” contends Stephen Ball, who has been living over here since 1986 and is the former treasurer of Copenhagen Celtic, a thriving football club
founded by Irish expats in the early 1980s. I is for Irish mile. Today normally used to sugar-coat an imprecise distance of just over one mile or just under two, or if it’s just under three miles, then two Irish miles … you get the idea … but historically it’s a defined measure of exactly eight Irish furlongs – approximately 2,240 yards, or 2.048km. J is for Jack Charlton, the first foreign manager of the Republic of Ireland football team, who more than earned his honorary citizenship when he fell asleep during an audience with the Pope in 1990. Granted, reaching the quarter-finals at that year’s World Cup might have been taken into account, as well as beating England at Euro 1998 and Italy in 1994. But then Jack fell down and broke his crown, and it’s all been downhill since. K is for kinship, as 70 million people worldwide claim to be descended from the Emerald Isle: incredible when you consider that the population of the Republic of Ireland is only 4.784 million. The Americans are the worst culprits, fuelled no doubt by an obsession with genealogy and having a better community than the Italians. In contrast, only 123 people claim to be English and half of these live on Pitcairn Island and are descended from the same man. L is for Lisdoonvarna, a small town in County Clare with a population of less than 800 people that has become very famous for its music and festivals. Among them is one of Europe’s largest match-making events, which attracts
A TO Z OF IRELAND
up to 40,000 people over a month-long period. M is for Molly Malone, the subject of the world’s most popular song and also a famous statue that is known locally as The Dish with the Fish and The Dolly with the Trolley. The song tells the tale of a fishmonger who worked and died young on the streets of Dublin. Legend also has it that there was a historical Molly who lived in the 17th century and was a hawker by day and prostitute by night – which might explain why the statue is also referred to as The Tart with the Cart and The Trollop with the Scallop. N is for Anne, Denise, Maureen, Linda, Bernie and Colleen – the Nolans. In 1979, a long, long time before girl bands, when it was more about talent than looks, some pretty ordinary looking sisters told the world they were in the mood for dancing. They are huge in Japan (but isn’t everybody) where they have sold more records than The Beatles. O is for O’Donnell as in ‘Wee’ Daniel O’Donnell, the first artist to have a different album in the British charts every year for 25 consecutive years – bet you didn’t know that! [Know that? Nobody in the office had ever heard of him, Paul]. P is for Póg mo thóin – which literally means kiss my ass. A play on these words was used for the seventh and final studio album by The Pogues: ‘Pogue Mhone’. Q is for Quinn, Niall Quinn, possibly Ireland’s nicest man. He was a successful football player, scoring 21 times for his country in 92 internationals, but today he is better known for his off-the-pitch generosity. He famously donated the proceeds from his testimonial to charity and once paid the taxi fares of a group of supporters from Bristol to Sunderland aſter they had been thrown off a plane for singing a song about him. As the Sunderland crowd oſten reminds him: “Niall Quinn’s taxi cabs are the best. So shove it up your arse Easyjet. Fat Fred wouldn’t do it for the Mags. Niall Quinn’s taxi cabs!”
R is for Roche – as in Stephen, the cyclist who astounded Ireland to win the 1987 Giro D’Italia and Tour de France. Roche owed part of his success to extreme good fortune, and no, it wasn’t a four-leafed clover. Greg LeMond, the overwhelming favourite to wear yellow in Paris, was shot whilst out turkey hunting by his uncle – not Roche’s uncle, we hasten to add, although brother Lawrence and son Nicolas were also pro cyclists capable of making a quick getaway over wooded terrain. S is for Bram Stoker, who was born in 1847 in Fairview, a coastal suburb of Dublin. Aſter studying mathematics at university, he wrote his first book aged 32, named ‘Duties of Clerks of Petty Sessions in Ireland’, a book so boring it sucked the blood out of anyone who read it. Years later, his widow, who dated Oscar Wilde before marrying Stoker, ended up successfully suing the makers of the first-ever Dracula film, ‘Nosferatu’, for not seeking her permission. T is for Taoiseach and Tánaiste, the head of government and the deputy. They sound fancy at state occasions and give foreign visitors an understanding of what it’s like to be misunderstood half the time when they try to say them. U is for Ulster, which along with Munster, Leinster and Connacht, makes up the four provinces that the island of Ireland is divided into. People oſten get very confused that a country can be inside a province, but Northern Island is part of Ulster, as there are three Ulster counties in Ireland. In all there are six counties in NI and 26 in the republic. V is for Van the Man, the great Irish singersongwriter, instrumentalist and record producer George Ivan Morrison, a one-time resident – you couldn’t make stuff like this up – of the Copenhagen suburb of Vanløse. He lived there from 1980 until 1983 and even penned a song entitled ‘Vanløse Stairway’. W is for Keith Wood, perhaps Ireland’s best ever rugby forward: a hooker of outstanding
talent and tenacity, whose bald-headed appearance earned him the nicknames ‘The Raging Potato’ and ‘Uncle Fester’ from The Addams Family. He was capped 58 times for Ireland (most of these as captain) and five times for the Lions – playing a huge part in their last successful tour, in South Africa in 1997. X is for x-rated moments in Irish sport. From Pat Bonner’s howlers in the 1990 and 1994 World Cup finals to the injury time concession of a try against eventual champions Australia in the 1991 Rugby World Cup quarter final, Ireland have a habit of snatching defeat from the jaws of victory. Why couldn’t they have shown the poise and cheek of Eamonn Coghlan, the Irish 1983 World Champion in the 5,000 metres? As he passed the long-term leader on the final bend with a pack of runners closing down on him, he paused for a couple of seconds to survey the poor guy before speeding off to victory. Now that’s poetry in motion. Y is for Yeats, as in William Butler Yeats – the Nobel Prize winner for literature in 1923, who also served as a senator of the Irish Free State for two terms. Upon his death he had a bizarre request: ‘If I die bury me up there [at Roquebrune] and then in a year’s time when the newspapers have forgotten me, dig me up and plant me in Sligo.” Yeats died in 1939 and he was duly buried in France, but then World War II broke out, and he had to wait a further nine years before his body was ferried over to Ireland. Z is for Zombie, a 1994 song penned by Irish band The Cranberries about the 1916 Easter Rising and arguably one of the best protest songs ever. A classic, and given how it commemorated events that dragged British troops away from the front line, it was understandably number one in Germany.
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DUBLIN
DUBLIN, A LOVE STORY 40 SHADES OF WONDERFUL
NO WEEKEND BREAK IN THE IRISH CAPITAL IS COMPLETE WITHOUT A VISIT TO THESE SIX LOCATIONS BY NATHAN WALMER Nearly a decade ago, I spent a summer I would never forget in the enchanting city of Dublin, Ireland. And it was love at first sight as we made our descent down to Dublin Airport. 40 Shades of Green Looking out the window I could see its centuries-old architecture elegantly mixed with the state-of-the-art, the River Liffey flowing through the heart of the city, and the ‘40 Shades of Green’ Johnny Cash describes in his tribute song to Ireland and its lush, green beauty. In this spirit, here are several ‘must-sees’ if you should be so lucky to visit Dublin and meet its famously friendly people. The Guinness Storehouse Why not start your Dublin adventure by submerging yourself in the Irish stout that’s synonymous with the country? Brewed at the Guinness Storehouse since 1759, every tour begins with a glimpse of the 9,000-year lease agreement to rent the factory at a cost of £45 per year by Arthur Guinness in 1759. From here you will ascend the museum’s seven floors that surround a glass atrium made to look like a pint of Guinness. On the top floor, or the ‘head of the pint’ if you will, is the ‘Gravity Bar’ offering a 360-degree panoramic view of the city, which you get to enjoy with a complimentary pint of ‘the black stuff’. Make sure you get a ‘STOUTie’ – a malt extract imprint onto the head of your Guinness in the image of your choice.
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Dublin Castle Built in the early 13th century on the site of a Viking fortress dating back to 930, Dublin Castle is centred in the heart of the city. This was the site of the original Dubh Linn (or ‘black pool’) where the Vikings built up a trading base and ultimately gave Dublin its name. For centuries the complex served as headquarters for English rule over Ireland until it was relinquished in 1922 following independence. Aside from featuring castle ruins, an extensive history and worldrenowned institutions such as the Chester Beatty Library, the castle complex’s beautiful grounds and gardens alone make it worth the visit. Trinity College Dublin Trinity College, which was founded in 1592 by Queen Elizabeth I, is Ireland’s oldest university. Aside from remaining an active university today, its stunning campus and historical artefacts also make it one of Dublin’s most popular tourist attractions. The Old Library, considered one of the world’s most magnificent, is home to Ireland’s greatest cultural treasure: the famous medieval manuscript ‘The Book of Kells’. Once you’ve exhausted yourself with the history, stretch out on the grass in the on-campus beer garden The Pavilion, which welcomes students and non-students alike. Croke Park Whether you’re a sports fan or not, a visit to Dublin’s Croke Park offers an immersive look
at Irish culture. Known to locals simply as ‘Croker’, it also plays host to major music acts and even Pope Francis in 2018. Croker seats 82,300 people, making it the third-largest stadium in Europe. Even if you don’t catch a live event there, you can visit its Gaelic games museum, take a stadium tour and finish off with a skyline tour for death-defying views of Dublin from a rooſtop platform suspended over the pitch itself. St Patrick’s Cathedral In the spirit of St Patrick’s Day, what good would a list be without including St Patrick’s Cathedral? As Ireland’s largest and tallest cathedral though, it is a fantastic place to see any time of year. The church, which was erected between 1191 and 1260, is built on the site of a well that was apparently used by St Patrick himself to baptise local Celtic chieſtains in the 5th century. Tours are open to the public, and during school term you may see its worldfamous choir perform daily. Phoenix Park Most visitors forget they’re in a major city when they enter the 7 sq km confines of what is the largest urban park in any European capital. Be it renting bikes, picnicking, searching for the park’s native deer population or visiting Dublin Zoo (founded in 1831, it is one of the world’s oldest), there’s loads to see and do here. The official residence of the president of Ireland is also within the park’s gates and free to tour.
OUTSIDE THE CAPITAL
BEYOND DUBLIN
AND WANDER
CHOOSE THESE FIVE AS YOUR PIT-STOPS AND YOU’LL BE SINGING THEIR PRAISES FOR THE REST OF YOUR DAYS
BY NATHAN WALMER Captured in the books of James Joyce and more recently Roddy Doyle, Ireland’s urban charm is undeniable. But as much as we might like to retrace the steps of Leopold Bloom and Jimmy Rabbitte from ‘The Commitments’, the capital is only one small slice of it. Lots of exploring! If you are keen on venturing outside of the bustling capital, there is no shortage of quaint towns and seaside cities to explore in Ireland. Here are some of the most highly recommended: Cork Although best-known for the Blarney Castle and Stone which sit just outside the city, where thousands flock in search of the Giſt of the Gab, Cork itself should not be overlooked. As the third largest city, it is considered its culinary capital and no trip is complete without a visit to its crown jewels, the English Market, which is widely acclaimed as one of the finest covered markets in Europe. Dubbed the ‘Rebel City’, Cork has a rich history of rebellion worth discovering at its Cork City Gaol and Collins Barracks Museum. For less violent historical content, there’s also the Butter Museum, which covers the story of Ireland’s most important food export. All in all, there is much
to see and do in this seaside city. Dingle The Dingle Peninsula and surrounding areas are well-known as some of Ireland’s most scenic drives, but the town of Dingle deserves a visit too as it is one of the most quaint and charming towns in all of Ireland. ‘Surfing’ and ‘Ireland’ are two words that might not seem like they belong together, but in picturesque Dingle Bay there are all manner of oceanic activities, including surfing lessons, kayaking, and whale-watching excursions. You may also see a wealth of marine life at the ‘Oceanworld’ aquarium which is Ireland’s largest. If you prefer to ‘drink like a fish’ rather than see any, you’re also in luck! For a humble town of about 2,000 inhabitants, Dingle boasts a whopping 30 pubs - an impressive ratio of one pub for every 66 residents. The Dingle Whiskey Distillery is also a great place to tour and imbibe the local spirit(s). Belfast Belfast, the capital and largest city of Northern Ireland, is perhaps best known for building the doomed ocean liner ‘RMS Titanic’. The site of the shipyard where its construction began in 1909 is now an expansive waterfront with markets, film studios, historic maritime landmarks and the ‘Titanic Belfast’ museum, which was crowned the ‘world’s leading tourist attraction’ in the 2016 World Travel Awards. If you would like to dig into
more dark episodes in Belfast’s history, tour the Victorian era Crumlin Gaol Prison, which remained active for 150 years and saw many famous inmates behind its bars from the Irish War of Independence and ‘The Troubles’ before closing in 1996. Despite its turbulent politics and history, Belfast is a vibrant city that’s been experiencing a resurgence in tourism and for good reason. Galway Galway has a well-earned reputation for being a ‘party city’ thanks to its nightlife, traditional Irish music scene and many festivals. The main thoroughfare ‘Shop Street’, Eyre Square park and Latin Quarter are always lively with street buskers, art galleries, shops and some of the city’s favourite pubs. Set on the coast in the west of Ireland, Galway began as a small fishing village and grew to become a prosperous medieval walled town ruled by 14 merchant families from the 13th to the 19th centuries, giving it the nickname the ‘City of the Tribes’. To learn more about Galway’s medieval past and current cultural significance, visit the Galway City Museum. Galway is currently designated the ‘European Capital of Culture’ for 2020 and should be at the top of any list of cities to visit while in Ireland. Kilkenny Kilkenny is considered one of the most beautiful medieval cities in Ireland with the spectacular ‘Kilkenny Castle, Rose Garden and Park’ as its centrepiece. The castle was founded in 1195 during the Norman occupation of Ireland and was later converted into a noble estate with magnificent grounds and gardens - all of which are open to the public. From the castle there is a popular discovery trail linking other Kilkenny highlights called the ‘Medieval Mile’. St Canice’s Cathedral and Round Tower, the second largest cathedral in Ireland, is one such highlight. Climb up the well-preserved 9th century round tower for 360-degree views of Kilkenny. Continue down the ‘Medieval Mile’ for a fairy tale-like walk back in time that will take you through a city known for its festivals and arts tradition.
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VISIT IRELAND
Ireland may be a small island, but it’s got a big heart and jaw-dropping landscapes.
TEN GIANTS OF NATURE IN LITTLE IRELAND NO TRIP TO THE EMERALD ISLE IS COMPLETE WITHOUT A VISIT TO THIS SELECTION
Best appreciated by road, its west coast, in perpetual submission to the Atlantic, is probably the standout.
Cliffs of Moher
And accordingly it dominates our recommendations, all embracing extraordinary nature, which we’re confident won’t disappoint. Welcome to one and all Central to the appeal are the fascinating people, whose warm nature is ably reflected in the wildness of the rugged nature. Everything you’ve heard about Ireland is true, but while it’s steeped in history, it continues to write its own story, offering a culture ever-blossoming in the realms of music, food and the arts. Céad míle fáilte – a hundred thousand welcomes.
BY PAUL MCNAMARA Ring of Kerry, County Kerry With its rugged islands, white-sand beaches and dramatic mountains, the Ring of Kerry does not disappoint with its raw nature and charming villages. Pro-tip: prepare to be breath-taken by the beauty of Moll’s Gap. Aran Islands, County Galway Famed for their knitted jumpers and pretty thatched cottages, the wild landscapes of the Aran Islands will never disappoint. Easily visible from the counties of Clare and Galway, the rocky, wind-buffeted island have a desolate beauty guaranteed to make you fall in love.
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Glendalough, County Wicklow Glendalough or Gleann dá Loch (Valley of the Two Lakes) is one of the most significant monastic sites in Ireland. Carved out by glaciers in the Ice Age, this national park hosts jaw-dropping nature and a 6th century round tower, the surviving remnants of a monastery founded by Saint Kevin.
Glenveagh National Park, County Donegal Ireland’s second largest national park, in the northwestern corner of County Donegal, is a remote and hauntingly beautiful wilderness of rugged, raw nature. Deep within the spectacular Derryveagh Mountains, pristine lakes, wondrous waterfalls and oak woodlands are waiting to be explored.
Cliffs of Moher, County Clare No trip to Ireland would be complete without a visit to the Cliffs of Moher situated on the wild Atlantic Way. The Cliffs of Moher have majestically faced the Atlantic for over 350 million years and, simply, their beauty is incomparable. It’s Ireland’s most visited place for a good reason.
Blarney Castle/Stone, County Cork Reputed to endow the giſt of the gab on those who dare to hang their head off the parapets to kiss it, the stone is not the only reason for visiting Blarney Castle. Standing for over 600 years, the massive building boasts compelling dungeons and towers.
VISIT IRELAND
Benbulben
Ring of Kerry
The Rock of Cashel
Skellig Michael
Benbulben, County Sligo The area is also known as ‘WB Yeats Land’, as it was the inspiration for much of his poetry. The area contains a walk that starts just four miles from the main man’s grave in a secluded forest area, before offering up absolutely magnificent views of Donegal Bay and the Atlantic Ocean. The Rock of Cashel, County Tipperary Perched upon a limestone rock formation in the Golden Vale, this magnificent group of medieval buildings includes a 12th century high cross in a romanesque chapel, a 12th century round tower, a 15th century castle, and
a 13th century gothic cathedral among others. It’s said that this was also once the seat of the high kings of Munster prior to the Norman invasions. Skellig Michael in County Kerry On this island 11.6 km west of the Ivereagh Peninsula is a well-preserved 6th century monastic settlement. The UNESCO World Heritage site was recently used by the Star Wars franchise as Luke Skywalker’s hideaway. It is home to 23,000 gannets, making it the seabird’s second largest colony in the world, and is Ireland and Europe’s most westerly point.
Slieve League Cliffs in County Mayo Who would have thought the third highest cliffs in Europe could be found in Ireland? Placed aſter Hornelen in Norway and Cape Enniberg in Faroe Islands, the Slieve League Cliffs rise 688 metres above the Atlantic Ocean. Effectively the slopes of Mt Croaghaun, they are best viewed from the water as it can get mighty slippy up there! And if the fall doesn’t kill you, the killer whales will!
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MUSIC
TRACING THE ROOTS OF OFFBEAT MUSIC GENRES
BACKSTORIES APLENTY IN THIS HISTORY OF IRISH MUSIC: FROM THE POGUES TO RORY GALLAGHER TO VAN THE MAN HIMSELF
BY VALMIRA GJONI Mention Irish music and invariably pub singers come to mind. Nowhere hires them more oſten, or pays them cheaper. They might not always be playing Irish songs, but as long as ‘Whiskey in the Jar’ is in their repertoire, they’ll get hired with the understanding they’re keeping it country. But beyond the traditional Irish songbook that every pub performer is obliged to dip into now and again, the Emerald Isle has provided us with a wide variety of different sub-genres. Some are unique, some reinvented, and some are utter tripe. Here’s a quick overview of some of the best ones out there, with a few clues to their oſten uncertain history. Celtic Soul There are ways to raise a rabble and then there’s hell-raising, jazz-hating Jimmy Rabbitte. “The Irish are the blacks of Europe. And Dubliners are the blacks of Ireland. And the Northside Dubliners are the blacks of Dublin. So say it once and say it loud: I’m black and I’m proud,” he told his troops ahead of christening them ‘The Commitments’. It’s a nice analogy, and maybe in the 1980s, when most Irish people’s best prospects lay in Britain, it had some truth, but not nowadays in the wake of the Celtic Tiger. And besides, long before Roddy Doyle craſted this speech, the inimitable voice and output of Northern Irish singer Van ‘The Man’ Morrison had laid claim to grand-daddying the genre we know as Celtic Soul. Irish Rock Forget U2, Thin Lizzy and The Cranberries, as Jimi Hendrix knew who the undisputed grand-daddy of Irish Rock was. When he was questioned: “Jimi, what’s it like to be the greatest guitarist in the world?” his response was: “Don’t know, ask Rory
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ST PATRICK’S DAY GUIDE
Gallagher”. It’s hard to disagree when you check out his performance at the 1970 Isle Of Wight Festival. Many current guitarists cite Gallagher as their biggest inspiration, including U2’s The Edge. Celtic punk You hear the expression Celtic Punk and think of the hairstyle of Bob Geldof – or even Sinead O’Connor … sorry, Magda Davitt … sorry Shuhada’ Sadaqa – but it is in fact a genre mostly credited to The Pogues, a London band in the 1980s most famous for gappy-toothed frontman Shane MacGowan’s Christmas duet with Kirsty MacColl, ‘A Fairy-tale in New York’. However, essentially a mix of punk and traditional music, its roots go deeper than the Pogues to British folk rock and Celtic folk. Today, it is particularly popular in Boston thanks to the likes of The Dropkick Murphys. Eurovision In the 1970s all was well. Dana won the Eurovision Song Contest in 1970 with ‘All Kinds of Everything’, the kind of dappy song the governess in ‘The Sound of Music’ might have sung had she given the kids LSD, and that was enough for Ireland. Warning shots were fired in the 1980s when Johnny Logan won it twice. “What’s another year” he crooned? Try millions of punts for hosting it, you fecking eejit! And then the 1990s brought Armageddon, as a Logan-penned number in 1992, ‘Why me? (yes, indeed), sparked off four wins in five years. Since then, the Irish haven’t been trying very hard. Okay, maybe Jedward have ... Boy/girl bands Ronan, Stephen, Shane, Keith, Mikey (wasn’t he the ugly one?), Shane, Markus, Kian, Nicky, Brian (wasn’t he the fat one?) … what
have they all got in common? Louis Walsh, of course, the dipstick in X Factor who wouldn’t know talent if it hit him with a barn door. But who needs talent when you can bludgeon highly impressionable teenage girls with a mixture of floppy-haired choir boys, token bad boys with tats, corny songs and teeth? Both got off to moronic starts: Boyzone’s first TV appearance was the farce to end all farces (Colin Farrell had got down to the last ten in auditions) while Westlife originally called themselves Westside at the height of the West Coast-East Coast rap war. They could have got themselves shot! And don’t get us started on B*Witched, the cutesy Irish girl band who … oh no, don’t tell us they had a reunion as well. Family bands Catholicism gives the Irish an advantage in churning out family groups. Aſter all, it took Family Jackson umpteen births to strike gold and in the meantime the also-rans can play the harmonica, triangle or whatever it is the brother does in the Coors. Sure, there’s them, and the Nolans, of course, and don’t forget that the Cranberries were founded by a pair of brothers, albeit as The Cranberry Saw Us, a limp unit that decided to hire a woman so they could finally meet one. B*Witched has a set of twins, The Fureys (no jokes about them as they are of Irish Traveller heritage) initially consisted of four brothers, while Clannard is like Jerry Lee Lewis’s family tree: two brothers, one sister and evil-looking twin uncles. IRISH INSTRUMENTS Bodhran – often referred to as a poor man’s tambourine, this drum consists of a circular wooden frame, usually around 20 inches in diameter covered in stretched goatskin, which when struck by a double-headed stick emits a sharp-loud beat. The Bones – these pieces of wood (sometimes bones) are played like spoons, most commonly in Ireland with one hand (elsewhere, players tend to use both hands). The Fiddle – pretty much identical to the violin, it is the way it is played (aggressively in North Donegal,ornately in East Derry) that makes it distinctly Irish. Four-string Tenor Banjo – played an octave below that of the fiddle, made popular by Barney McKenna of The Dubliners. The Harp – following its revival in the 20th century, this national emblem is again being incorporated into folk music and dance. Uilleann Pipes – a type of Irish bagpipe, it plays a prominent role in the Irish instrumental music called Fonn Mall. It takes a generally recognised 21 years to master them.
BAR REVIEW
from one nationality to another: in our cases, Greek, South Korean and Scottish. Our Scottish colleague, too hungover to drink, is soon converted over to the dark side when she is called not Scottish enough. Living in the moment His enthusiasm and irresistible rhetorical skills are infectious – not too dissimilar a feeling to being in an improv class. There’s something about Svejk that allows you to be yourself and to enjoy the present. Before we knew what we were doing, we were laughing, clinking glasses and drawing, as pens and postcards miraculously appeared before us.
A LETTER FROM ST PAUL
(A REMAKE OF ‘THE WITCHES OF EASTWICK’?) BY ROSELYNE MIN
CAFÉ SVEJK Smallegade 31, Frederiksberg; open SunWed 12:00-00:00, Thu 12:00-01:00, FriSat 12:00-02:00; cafesvejk.dk From Frederiksberg Metro, Café Svejk is less than a ten-minute walk. However, on a stormy evening, it was more than enough time to leave us drenched, windswept and feeling more than a little sorry for ourselves. Our moods were instantly improved upon our arrival, however. Greeted by a cosy and unpretentious interior, we hung up our soaked coats and took a seat at the bar, where it turned out asking for a sour beer was a bad move. “Sour? What sour?” teased Paul, the Irish manager of Svejk. It was our introduction to a sense of humour that would end up prevailing over the whole evening. In truth, he never lets a single visitor leave without a grin. With Czech beers as good as Bohemia Regent on tap, we can all do without natural wine or sour beer for a night. Oasis by Haven If by cafe, you immediately think of some of the typically pompous establishments seen in the city centre, you’ll be disappointed, as Café Svejk is very much a watering hole. Well loved and visited for decades as a cornerstone of Frederiksberg, it has long provided beer-loving walkers, sports enthusiasts and joggers with the ideal pit-stop to quench their thirst on the way to or back from the nearby park. And although it’s been less than a year since Paul and his crew moved in next door to Frederiksberg Have, the Irish charm is flowing as freely as the dulcet coppery notes of the beer it serves.
Good soldier Švejk Nevertheless, the bar’s main theme, from which it takes its unusual name, will continue. The black comedy ‘The Good Soldier Svejk’ – a ‘Catch 22’ for World War I – was written by Czech writer Jaroslav Hašek. It follows the exploits of its main character Josef Švejk, who keeps on managing to frustrate the Austro-Hungarian military authorities with his dumb insolence. It is regarded by many as one of the finest, and earliest, anti-war novels. Svejk’s unique atmosphere comes courtesy of a rustic wooden interior reminiscent of old East European pubs, while the walls are decorated by some jolly Josef Lada ligne claire illustrations that earned him a Deutscher Jugendliteraturpreis in 1963. But when I asked why they decided to keep Svejk the way it has always been, Paul replied without hesitating: “Because the beers are amazing!”
I kept saying: “It’s hilarious that we enjoy drawing so much! He must’ve done something.” And before you ask, I swear we weren’t drunk yet. Just in case there was any doubt, our master of ceremonies made everyone in the bar down the 44 percent German digestif bitter Underberg to wrap up the night. We finally leſt Svejk with a postcard written in Paul’s beautiful handwriting saying: “For the love of God…. would you please go home!” Twinkle, twinkle little bar It would be a mistake to assume that Svejk is an Anglo establishment, and Paul has long mastered the Danish language and holds the regulars tight. And they might need a bit of assurance over the next year as there are plans to knock down a wall inside to expand the popular bar, as its lack of space can mean they oſten have to turn people away. There are no such worries in the warmer months because it can seat 150 outside. Paul assures us that the theme and atmosphere won’t change very much. With a certain twinkle in the eye, it’s hard not to believe him … providing he remains in charge.
Like a party in the UN Choosing a Sunday evening – a quiet night of the week – we were able to enjoy, with few interruptions, Paul’s Irish charm and great craic. Friendly, playful and with many good stories to tell, we spent the evening laughing at our own expense and his. Among others, Paul told us about a drunken night at his old workplace when he decided to take a quick break and have a drink around the corner. It was only when he returned that he realised he had habitually locked the door and all of the punters inside the bar for half an hour. In Ireland, Paul would have a different patter no doubt, but in Copenhagen surrounded by so many nationalities he makes merry as he skips ST PATRICK’S DAY GUIDE
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HAPPY ST. PATRICK’S DAY
ALL IRISH
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ST PATRICK’S DAY GUIDE