A full list of articles

T A B L E_T A L K

Discuss the spiritual and grotty aspects of traveling in India in the Wanderlust area of Table Talk

R E C E N T L Y

The elf of Sligo
By C.J. Sullivan
An Irish lesson in fairies, giants, queens and Yeats
(03/16/98)

Mondo Weirdo
By "Au Chateau"
The case of the permutating toilet
(03/13/98)

Auckland unplugged
By Cameron Williamson
Life in a city without electricity
(03/12/98)

A romp in Rome
By Fiona Morgan
An American feminist is liberated by Italian men
(03/11/98)

"Save me, wild qahba!"
By Jeffrey Tayler
In a hashish den with the fallen women of Marrakech
(03/10/98)

Browse the Wanderlust Feature archives

_________^{t h e}_^{n e w} D ^{u b l i n}
WITH AN INFUSION OF HIGH-TECH BUSINESS,
__THE NEW DUBLIN IS THRIVING -- AND THE OLD PUBS ARE, TOO.
_________+ + + + + + + + + + + + + + + +

BY DAVID MOORE | Early morning in the Phoenix Park, and the mist sits on the tops of the trees, swirling around the stark white papal cross. From the ruined magazine fort you can see Dublin rising through the haze -- the red neon of the sign on the Guinness brewery, the green dome of Rathmines church and the distant slim striped chimneys of the power station in Ringsend. Off to the south, the gray curves of the mountains watch over the city.

From the park, the scene is largely unchanged from how it would have looked 10, 20 or 50 years ago. Except for the cranes. Throughout the city, they poke their skinny crossbeams into the sky -- signs that Ireland's capital is going through a period of unprecedented prosperity and change.

Housing prices have increased by 25 percent in a year, and the economy's growth rate stands at around 8 percent. Thousands of high-tech jobs have been created and the country that used to export its people to work in Continental Europe, America and Australia is now welcoming home the diaspora. Ireland has become the Celtic Tiger, matching and outstripping the apparently fragile success of Far Eastern countries such as South Korea and Taiwan.

The International Financial Services Centre (IFSC) on the north side of the Liffey sports a sizable growth of cranes. Slick office buildings with green tinted glass sit beside the old docks and provide a home to banks, commercial lawyers and accountants -- Chase Manhattan across from Citibank, and Credit Lyonnais next door to Deutsche Morgan Grenfell.

It's 8.30 a.m., and the young people riding the back of the Celtic Tiger dash into coffee shops for their cappuccino. Bond traders named Aisling or Conor reach into their expensive suits for their mobile phones. The whole area was derelict dockland a few years ago, but now shiny new pubs, restaurants and shops serve the office workers and those who live in the apartments that form part of the complex.

Although Dublin has a population of some 1.5 million, the center of town (locals never say "city" -- that feels a bit presumptuous) is small enough to mean you always bump into your friends in the street. This small scale means that the IFSC backs on to Sheriff Street, a no-nonsense area of publicly owned corporation housing that was there long before offshore accounts and futures trading hit town. This collision of old and new, poverty and wealth, run-down and hyped-up, is a hallmark of Dublin these days.

The small side street where I work shows this to the extreme. In a 100-yard stretch there's a set of three-story red-brick corporation flats with laundry lines strung across the concrete yard at the back, where kids kick footballs around and sneak a quick smoke in a dark corner. Opposite them in a converted factory building is my office, and next to us is a second-hand furniture warehouse. Up the street is a vacant lot used as a car park, and then a couple of small print and design shops.

Within the last 18 months, the pub at the corner has been renovated and turned into a traditionalist-meets-modernist extravaganza, with antique knick-knacks and old hardcover books in one ground-floor room, and all cool blue paintwork and asymmetrical fireplaces in the other. Upstairs is Stonewall Jackson's -- a Wild West theme bar, where saddles compete with newly aged signs inviting guests to check their guns at the door.

So far so surreal. And now on the opposite corner is a five-star hotel, playing host to business conferences and busloads of elderly American tourists.

Back at the IFSC, it's lunch time, and those of the office crowd who can spare the time are heading across the river to the Stag's Head in Dame Court, a classic Dublin pub. The stained glass windows lend a religious air (it's no accident that barmen used to be called "curates"), and on the altar of the polished oak bar pints are left to settle for a few minutes before they're given a final pull. Huge plates of hearty food (roast beef with carrots, mashed potatoes, roast potatoes and cabbage, say) are delivered to drinkers in the semi-private snugs. There's no music and no bar games -- just the hum of Dubliners catching up on the latest gossip or chewing over the fortunes of the football teams they follow in the English league.

Traditional pubs like the Stag's Head, or Kehoe's on South Anne Street, serve a wide clientele: Near the door pose young trendies with DJ bags and sharp clothes; slumped at the bar are elderly men in raincoats who take drinking very seriously indeed; and at a far table a group of casually dressed people in their mid-20s argue over Microsoft's ethics.

These last symbolize Ireland's booming computer industry. Intel, Gateway, Hewlett Packard and Dell all have manufacturing plants in the country, which is now also the world's second largest software producer. Microsoft has its European headquarters in Sandyford in south Dublin, while home-grown companies such as Iona and Trintech are becoming known in the world market.

Half the population in Ireland is under 25, and this young, skilled work force is one of the attractions to the incoming big businesses (government subsidies and tax breaks are among the others). Every now and again, someone makes a guess at why Irish people are so well-suited to high-tech work -- one theory states that in addition to a very good education system, there's something about the Irish mind that can appreciate logical, detailed and systematic work, while at the same time having a broader and more creative approach to problems. They claim this is exemplified by the medieval treasure of the Book of Kells (on display up the street from the Stag's Head in Trinity College), with its perfect, half-uncial script enlivened by gloriously illuminated initials and intertwining illustrations.

All this might not mean much to the programmers and project managers as they head back to check their mail, but it's certainly true that the country seems to have leapt from being largely farming-based and pre-industrial to knowledge-based and post-industrial in a very short space of time.

N E X T+P A G E+| Here come the celebs