"The Sea Air Sours It": A Pilgrimage to the Guinness Storehouse

I went with Leila to the Guinness Storehouse, and I believe it deserves its own post. I know what you’re thinking, “more talk about Guinness?” Sweet Jaysus, Ben! Have you gone mad? Ok, I promise it’s really interesting, and that after this post I will never mention Guinness again (well that last part is probably not true).

The story of Guinness is a magical one. Arthur Guinness began brewing his miracle elixir way back in the 18^th century, and through several incarnations perfected (and perhaps even invented) what we know today as stout. Guinness is comprised of four natural ingredients: water, hops, yeast and barley (so it’s good for you). Arthur Guinness founded his factory in an area where he would have easy access to crisp, clear water flowing down from the Wicklow Mountains as well as to fields of hearty Irish barley. He was so confident in his endeavor that he signed a 9,000 year lease on the property, a document now enshrined in a glass case in the floor in the center of the storehouse.

Now, when I thought storehouse, I thought a small quaint factory with good ol’ Irish charm. What I walked into was a HUGE factory/museum/DISNEY ATTRACTION, a circular structure (it’s shaped like a pint/barrel, of course) stretching seven floors up into the Dublin sky.

Boy, do those Guinness people know their tourists. Observe the glutinous Americans marching toward the gift shop, also known as THE STORE.

A history of bottles:

When I say Disney attraction, I mean, I felt like I was in Orlando, if Orlando had a BeerLand. There were different stations where you could touch real barley, read about the brewing process, watch movies, etc.

Fun fact:

And here’s the waterfall with a wishing well:

David Morris, is this where you got your inspiration for the set of Machinal?

There was an exhibit on the history of Guinness advertising, which was fascinating. The political correctness of some of the adverts was, shall we say, questionable?

The brewing of Guinness is a whole elaborate process, which I won't go into now. However, I will say briefly that what's unique about Guinness is the way it comes out of the tap. When I had my first Guinness in Dublin, it took forever for the bartender to serve me the pint, and I thought it was because I was American and she was ignoring me. Turns out, pouring Guinness is a multi-step process. When it first comes out, it's actually beige-ish color, not black, and you have to fill it a little more than halfway, wait for what's called the "surge" to settle, and then fill it to the top. It has something to do with nitrogen... I don't know, the lady had a heavy accent and I couldn't understand what she was saying. But basically, it settles, and you get a thick foamy lip and the rick black stuff underneath- like magic!

There was a station along the way where you could pour your own "perfect pint." Mine was pretty good, I must say...

The Guinness logo, the Irish harp, was adopted by the company back in the 19th century. Guinness made the image of the harp so popular that it was adopted by the various nationalist movements in the 20th century as a symbol of Irish independence and pride.

Also, I never made the connection that it's from the Guinness company that we get the Guinness Book of World Records! Yeah, I know, it's crazy. Some guys were in a pub one day and were arguing over which bird was the fastest bird in the world (it's the spine-tailed swift, also known as the white-throated needletail), and the argument eventually resulted in them keeping a book of different facts. One thing led to another and the rest is history.

The seventh floor of the storehouse is called the "Gravity Bar." It's a circular bar with a clear 360 degree view of the Dublin skyline. Naturally, there are Joyce quotes written on the glass, and from certain angles, it almost looks like the words are written across the sky.

I found this juxtaposition particularly interesting: the opening lines of Finnegans Wake allude to the most influential story in Western literature-- the story of creation, of Adam and Eve. Joyce's words describe a river, and those words are overlooking a city that is bisected by a river-- a city that he immortalized.

The title of this post, again, comes from the Lestrygonians episode of Ulysses. Bloom's thoughts, I believe, are an appropriate summation of the spirit of the day:

"As he set foot on O’Connell bridge a puffball of smoke plumed up from the parapet. Brewery barge with export stout. England. Sea air sours it, I heard. Be interesting some day get a pass through Hancock to see the brewery. Regular world in itself. Vats of porter wonderful. Rats get in too. Drink themselves bloated as big as a collie floating. Dead drunk on the porter. Drink till they puke again like christians. Imagine drinking that! Rats: vats. Well, of course, if he knew all the things."