I wish I could tell you I went to bed early last night, but at 7 p.m. I got my second or third wind. M suggested Indian takeaway, because we felt it would be a great experience to get takeaway, because Americans do take-out and our takeaways are lessons not dinner.
And Spice & Rice had fal— an extremely spicy item.
He did not order fal. He ordered spicy chicken vindaloo and I ordered lamb korma, which shocked him because I don’t normally do mild dishes. I got the meal for one deal for 20.95 euros, which included a drink, a starter, a pilau rice, a naan (I got mango peshwaari)and poppadom. So much food. I don’t know how they consider that meal for one. That is easily meal for two.
We wandered down to the restaurant around 7:30 p.m. and it was dead, enough so that M was nervous that maybe the food would be bad. While the food cooked, we meandered to the end of the block to Peader Brown‘s, a traditional Irish pub that has a history of Irish Republicanism. They had several televisions visible from the tented outdoor area as they were at capacity because of the World Cup Qualifying match between the Czech Republic and Ireland.
The moon was bright and the game was amazing, each time we went to return for our takeaway, the Irish team scored. We wondered if maybe we were a good luck charm.
We read the pro-Palestine posters, and M even noticed a Palestinian flag across the street. That’s not surprising as the Irish are acutely aware of the politics of ownership by occupation.
We also started calling the Czech team and each other feckin eejits as I had stopped at a curiosities shop earlier in the day where they had some interesting mugs and dirty feckin eejit soap. (“Weird is wonderful,” the window said.”
This also led to M and I conversing about why Ireland has such a “cussing culture” and my hypothesis went to the idea that the Irish have a long history as a working class culture, people who have survived on an island for a very long time (in Dublin’s case 900 years).
Speaking of oddities, I saw a sign in the window of the barber:
“Spectacles and Wooden Legs always Wanted.”
We brought the takeaway back to our room where we stuffed ourselves with a delicious feast that we could not finish. So we piled it into the fridge, but we have no microwave so we may need to reheat it with some creativity with hot water from the electric kettle.
And then we turned on the game.
Now we were exhausted and stuffing our faces with Indian food, but the Irish team was giving it their everything. And we couldn’t stop watching.
The game remained 2-2 and went into double overtime, and an Irish player and a Czech player collided so hard the Irish player left on a backboard. (I have to Google that and see if he’s okay.) Those boys were tired, sweaty, covered with grass stains and still playing an intense game.
And then it went to penalty kicks. M tapped out. He can’t handle penalty kicks. But I had to know who won. The Czech team missed the third kick. The Irish team missed the fourth. Then the Irish team missed the fifth and the Czechs did not. The Czechs won the game on the fifth penalty kick.
Angel Ackerman 