Local traditions and culture in Cork

In Ireland there is a longstanding rivalry between Cork and Dublin. Cork people are notoriously arrogant about their city describing it as THE REAL CAPITAL. So if you want to make yourself really popular in Cork, speak at length about how much nicer, friendlier, more advanced etc., etc., it is than Dublin. Then if you are hellbent on honorary citizenship, learn to sing DE BANKS while consuming several pints of Murphys.


THE CAPITAL SONG.

They do things differntly
quite differently up there
.........somewhere between the autumn and the summer
I lost my way for the first time in my homeland, trying to get back here,
you know it wouldn't happen here,
...............you can always take your time,
avoid the queuesand catch
THE LAST BUS HOME BACK
HERE,
You know we''ll always be down here
my friend,
time to come back home.

Written and performed by FRED, this song sums up beautifully the average Cork person's feelings about going to Dublin.

Drinking beer in Cork (the rest of Ireland as well)is not a local custom, it's rather a primarily need.
I've seen people transform themselves after drinking but in Cork is a complete different story. Sometimes I've seen that people needed to drink in order to be brave enough to talk to someone. Nonetheless I can't deny that the beer is espectacular. Well, the photo is my witness.

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Most of the street signs in Cork (and I guess other towns etc in Ireland) give both the name in English and Irish Gaelic. Many are quite attractive, like this one on Widderling's Lane (or Lana Widderling) in Shandon, which was cast in metal with celtic style lettering and a crest.

I was curious to find out the origins of the name of this Lane (Which as you can see from the photograph (2) is more of a set of stone steps) That connects Popes Quay and Dominic Street.

So far I haven't found any accurate info.

Anyone know the answer?

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Shandon is quite photogenic, with its old buildings and narrow streets. Many of the houses have painted walls, which add to the character of this area of North Cork. Please see my photos below.

Apparently, Shandon commenced a programme of re-generation, funded by the Cork City Council, in 2002.
The Shandon Action Plan included provision of grants in 2003, for the painting of houses in order to enliven and improve the quality of the environment Shandon Renewal Link

The Bells of Shandon is a poem by Francis Sylvester Mahony (1804 - 1866), who was also known as Father Prout.
Born in Cork, on Camden Quay, Francis was the Grandson of Timothy Mahoney -who was the founder of the Blarney Woollen Mills!

Aged 12, Francis began his first steps to entering the Priesthood, an ambition of his parents! Francis had a preference to join the Jesuits, and was enrolled at The Jesuit College of Clongowes.
Aged 16, he travelled to France, where he studied at the Jesuit College in Amiens, then at the Jesuit Noviciate in Paris.
Three years later he arrived in Rome to study Philosophy.

Despite being a brilliant student, and excelling in languages, he returned to Clongowes in 1825, having failed to be ordained into the priesthood.
He achieved ordination in 1832, which co-incided with a cholera outbreak. He'd returned to Cork, where he'd taken a post as Hospital Chaplain at the North Infirmary.
He devoted his time to helping the Cholera sufferers and their families.

However, having worked hard to become a priest, he decided that the literary world held more of an attraction for him.
In Paris he was the correspondent for The Globe, and in Rome for The Daily News.
He died in Paris.
The Bells of Shandon becoming known worldwide, after being published in 'The Oxford Book of Victorian Verse' It's thought that the words were probably first written during his time in a Rome seminary.

With deep affection and recollection
I oft times think of those Shandon bells,
Whose sound so wild would in the days of childhood,
Fling round my cradle their magic spells,
On this I ponder when'eer I wander and thus grow
fonder sweet Cork of thee,
With thy bells of Shandon that sound so grand on,
The pleasant waters of the river Lee.

I've heard bells chiming, full many a chime in,
Tolling sublime in Cathedral shrine,
While at a glib rate, brass tongues would vibrate,
But all their music spoke naught like thine;
For memory dwelling on each proud swelling,
Of the belfry knelling its bold notes free,
Made the bells of Shandon sound far more grand on,
The pleasant waters of the river Lee.

I've heard bells tolling Old "Adrian's Mole"
in their thunder rolling from the Vatican,
And cymbals glorious, swinging uproarious
In the gorgeus turrets of Notre Dame,
But thy sounds were sweeter than the dome of Peter,
Flings o'er the Tiber, peelingly solemnly,
O, the bells of Shandon sound far more grand on,
The pleasant waters of the river Lee.

There's a bell in Moscow, while on tower and kiosk o!
In Saint Sophia the Turkman gets,
And loud in air calls men to prayer,
From the tapering summit of tall minarets.
Such empty phantom, I freely grant them,
But there is an anthem more dear to me,
'Tis the bells of Shandon that sound so grand on,
The pleasant waters of the river Lee.

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What is a Busker? It’s a name for street musicians. The traditions of Buskers working in Cork probably goes back hundreds of years. Although sometimes the word ‘Musician’ can be misleading. These guys are proper Romany Gypsies and are actually very talented. They operate in 2-3 groups and will play some excellent tunes for you on accordions and other varied instruments. Always happy and entertaining, stop for a listen and give them a donation. They are truly talented and worth a few coins. You will find them in the ‘pedestrian’ areas of the centre most days and early evenings.

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Now I've never felt compelled to spraypaint or write on a building or wall to leave my mark, so I can't understand why others do.

It's quite heart sinking to see ugly graffitti, adding to the squalor of run-down urban areas, and even more so, when it covers historic buildings etc.

Sometimes though, I've come across a brightly coloured piece of 'Street Art' or a witty piece of writing.

This piece in Shandon made me smile. I suppose being an 'Arty' area Shandon has a higher class of Graffitti. (Although there was quite a bit of mindless 'writing' on the walls of the nearby Firkin Crane).

Obviously language varies from place to place and its natural to expect things to be different from one language to another, and even from one area to another within one language. Of all the places I have ever been though in the English speaking world, the Cork accent is something else.