Buns2025: Day 10 – Paris > Dublin

Soundtrack: “Army of Me”, Bjork/808 State

Woke early with a mission to get my laundry done before hotel checkout. Part of the reason for picking this hotel was the close proximity to the laundromat, as clean underwear for me is as essential as nicotine to the locals. I felt like a seasoned traveller being able to navigate the weird central payment thing without assistance, which is good because, aside from a small gang of school kids who were using the space as shelter from the morning drizzle, I was the only one there.

It was an untidy pack, the clean laundry bag just went straight into the case, but there’s still enough luggage space to deal with not rolling and scrunching everything. With all the running around and trying to breathe I’ve likely not done as much shopping for the folks back home as I might otherwise. Checked out with a final “bon jour” and “au revoir” and the hotel front desk person seemed no more happy to see the back of me than the front of me.

Then the last petit dejuner, the last croissant. I’ll certainly miss these, even if my waistline won’t. It’s not that the French do the best croissants, as I’m sure somewhere else in the world there is some super-baker producing “the world’s best croissant”, but that the base standard is better. I’ve been able to walk into any random cafe or boulangerie, at any time of the day, and get a croissant fresh, light and buttery, with more layers than a French arthouse film, bouncy, slightly warm, and just plain delicious.

The airport train from Gare de Nord has been fine for me, it runs regularly, the ticket machines aren’t overly complex and offer multi lingual selections. I suspect they need to update some of their internal info, as while they show two terminal stops (terminals 1&3, terminal 2) my train terminated at the first and then people were directed to the airport shuttle train for T2. If the French really didn’t like tourists coming to their country, they should think about the directions their escalators run, as every single one was taking people from the airport. Maybe it’s the one last insult: if you are going to leave France, you need to carry your suitcase up the stairs.

The EU are basically in the process of putting in extra tracking measures for passengers, and it seems this was causing some delays and extra queuing at CDG. My UK passport got me through fine, but there was a bit of a backlog, with attendants waving signs for flights that were about to depart to get those passengers through first. I also had a bit of a delay going through the scanners, our line stopped for about 5 minutes as there was no one at the monitors. Eventually a staff member wandered up and business resumed as usual.

I flew Aer Lingus to Dublin, it was a nice new plane, I ended up on an emergency exit aisle by myself (unfortunately the seat dividers didn’t retract so I couldn’t spread out) but at least I had leg room. I amused myself during the safety demonstration by making myself aware that my nearest exit was right beside me: sometimes it doesn’t take much. Took the Dublin Airexpress bus from the airport to the city centre, there’s no train but a number of bus services that all seem to offer about the same service. I’d timed my flight so I wouldn’t have to wait to check in, and was soon in my hotel room.

Dublin’s Temple Bar area is nightlife central, which on a Friday night means it’s heaving with tourists and all the pubs are full. I should also mention that Dublin has got everything happening this weekend: in addition to the My Bloody Valentine gig that I’m here for, the South African rugby team are playing Ireland, Lorde is playing, The Fray are playing, and as I only found out when I got here, US drag queen Amanda Tori Meating is also in town. It’s all happening here. After trying a few pubs for food, I eventually settled for an obvious tourist trap (in my defence I was hungry, tired, and aching from two days of coughing). Started with the seafood chowder, which was okay, followed by the sausage and mash stew, again okay, all washed down with the obligatory pint of Guinness. Definitely a step down from the French fare I’ve been accustomed to.

808 State. Techno-house pioneers responsible for some of the most innovative music of the late 80s and early 90s. From collaborations with Bjork, to thumping beats, they were a legendary part of the Manchester scene. They never got a lot of radio play in Australia, I remember hearing a few of their tunes in the early 90s but that was about it. I wouldn’t have said I was intimately familiar with their catalogue. When I saw this Dublin gig come up, and reasonably priced, I figured it would be worth checking out. I tried to find some of their CDs but the internet defeated me, but I bought a couple of albums on iTunes a week before I left. When my ipod dropped the first beats I knew I’d be okay. The gig was packed, I got there early enough to snag a space up the back where I’d be able to see the stage. Much as I would have loved to be in the dance pit, my knees ached, my chest ached, I’d likely have died if I tried to dance for 2 hours. From the back, just near the sound desk, I could feel the music, beats thumping through the floor. The first set was their 1991 album ex:el in full, with a guest vocalist taking Bjork’s place (“as we couldn’t get her on the ferry”). It’s a great album, and even better live. Got chatting with a couple of locals during the break between sets, they were amazed I’d come all the way from Australia, and kindly offered me some drugs which I happily declined (the only drugs I needed right then were anti-inflammatories, decongestants, and perhaps a sedative when I got back to the hotel). The Irish are friendlier than the French. The second set was a mix of other releases and some experimental jams, the crowd ate it up, the dance floor heaved. They finished with a fabulous version of “Army of Me”, which was co-written by the main 808 State dude, and when it was over we all flowed out into the street with hearts full of beats.

My brain asked the question, “How often do you get to go out in Dublin on a Friday night?” and my knees, chest, and lower back all replied, “Have some pain, brain, and STFU”. So it was back to the hotel for sleep.

Tomorrow might just be a take it easy kind of day, ahead of My Bloody Valentine in the evening (which at least is a seated gig).