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What Czech Beer Means to Me-An Irishman's Experience
Last year, after many years of listening to Radio Prague and much dreaming, I finally travelled to the Czech Republic. It wasn't just to Prague either; I happily backpacked around the country visiting other towns before passing onto Slovakia. My trip had many highlights, including of course Czech beer. Having spent much time in Czech pubs it is not difficult to understand the immense importance of beer to Czech culture and history. Not just beer in general either, for as I have learned the Czechs are fiercely patriotic about what they drink, and rightly so. But the title of Radio Prague's 2005 competition asks what Czech beer means to us listeners. There is in any case much written about the history of Czech beer, its meaning in Czech culture and prominence in Czech history. As a literary introduction I would thoroughly recommend Hasek's A Good Soldier Svejk. This account is highly personalised, but a good story worth telling, revealing just what Czech beer means to me.
Thirsty Czechs visiting Ireland are undoubtedly disappointed at the comparatively narrow range of beer on offer in the pubs. For the fact is that we Irish are a stout drinking nation. The world famous Guinness brewed in Dublin, along with Beamish and Murphy's from my own native Cork, are the three stouts we brew, drink and export abroad. Similar to the Czechs, many Irish prefer to drink their own native drink. When in the Czech Republic many an Irishman is faced with an acute dilemma. He can either drink an over-priced, and in many cases inferior, pint of his native black stuff or he can take the plunge and go for one of many bewildering different types of beer. Such a situation faced me as I walked up to the bar counter in a pub in Prague last summer. Having heard much about Czech beer I was curious enough to give it a try, and in any case the barman looked like he might pour me a pint of Guinness in one shot resulting in a browny, sickly pint with double the head permissible back home. The barman's hand passed over a long series of alien pumps until I nodded 'dobry' at the second last one, wanting to appear at least somewhat competent. Armed with my first half litre of Czech beer I made my way to sit down outside. I now felt curiously excited, and took my first cautious sip. Refreshing, and a lot smoother than I had expected. As I sampled more my impressions of Czech beer began to ferment favourably. I began to see what the Czechs were so proud of.
Some days later whilst I was down in Brno my native Cork hurling team made it to the All Ireland Final. It was of course of vital importance that I see this momentous occasion and an Irish pub was duly discovered. Having become well accustomed to Pilsner by now I faced a predicament. Here the barman was Irish and I could be assured of a decent pint of the black stuff - he even had the correct pint glasses! Not drinking a pint during a hurling final would be a serious break in tradition. Of course the fact that I was struggling with the choice at all showed how much I had become attached to Czech beer! For the first time in my life I was forced to make a conscious decision whether to drink Irish stout or Czech beer. These decisions are not made lightly.
Walking up to the barman I made my choice. Ignoring the Guinness on offer I took the plunge. Pointing to Pilsner and mumbling 'Pilsner prosím' I feebly hoped to be mistaken for a Czech punter. 'You here for the match then?' enquired my compatriot. The deception clearly hadn't worked. No snort of contempt about the Pilsner either though, some relief at least I thought. Then again once I was paying I suppose he didn't care what I was ordering. 'Eh, yeah' I hesitated, continuing with, 'I'm from Cork.' 'Straight upstairs then' said the barman accepting my Czech crowns, adding with no apparent expression of surprise, 'there's a crowd of ye upstairs already.'
This I hadn't quite thought of, how would fellow Irishmen view my heretical drinking habits? What caustic remarks would I incur with my Czech beer? Surely then if things went badly in the match I would be blamed and cast as some sort of jinx. My conscience was beginning to trouble me. I had reached the top of the stairs. Too late now. Poking my head cautiously around the corner my jaw dropped. Were any of these guys Irish? There wasn't a drop of the black stuff to be seen.
Every story has a moral and I'm still trying to figure out the moral of this one. It seems that many other Irish have a similarly favourable encounter with Czech beer tomine, once tasted it becomes the next best thing to a pint back home, until, when push comes to shove, you discover that it is the best thing. The prominence of stout back home may have a lot to do with the non-availability of good beer, i.e. Czech beer. So I suppose this story has more of a moral to the powers that be than a moral for us punters. Based on my limited research amongst my compatriots who have tried Czech beer it would seem that there has never been a better time to enter the Irish market. Apparently Nigeria is the second largest market for Guinness outside of the British Isles. I'm left wondering if Ireland become the second largest drinker of beer outside the Czech Republic?
And yes, we did win the final!
Jonathan Murphy, Ireland
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