It’s hot. Very hot. There is loud flamenco music. There is sensual and precise flamenco dancing. There is sangria. There are tapas. It’s lashing outside. It’s Culture Night in Dublin. In the Instituto Cervantes at Lincoln Place, just outside College, there are kids running around in traditional clothes, flying through the crowd as only those under waist height can. There’s a lot of smiling going on. It’s lashing outside.
The crowd is from all over. A lot of Spanish, a lot of Irish, but you could be anywhere in the world. It feels like a wedding that all of us crashed and found ourselves welcome to. People are roaring “Yeoh!” and “Olé!” and it all means the same thing.
The dancers, from Flamenco Ireland, smile and laugh as they perform and the crowd in turn is infected by the sight of seeing people having fun. One of the dancers is Spanish, one is Irish and the third is Elena McIlroy-Delarosa. It’s not my usual Friday night.
It was as if everyone, the city, was slightly tipsy. That early excitable stage of the night when you’re eager for what’s to come. Except we weren’t drunk. Or at least I wasn’t drunk. Loads of you were, more power to you.
Dublin had a massive communal air of openness last night that is rare in the city. Because the evening had been assigned as one in which to try new things, a lot of us did. People were expectant, out on a limb, vulnerable. Out of their comfort zone, people tend to be sounder, especially when you’re in the same boat as they are. The boat outside the box.
It was fair enough to assume that everyone you passed was out trying something different. It was carnival. There was goodwill. It was like strangers at a funeral or in the snow. Guards were down so slack was cut. I flamencoed, badly but enthusiastically, and the people clapped. We were all out to experience.
It was as if everyone, the city, was slightly tipsy. That early excitable stage of the night when you’re eager for what’s to come. Except we weren’t drunk. Or at least I wasn’t drunk. Loads of you were, more power to you.
There were different stimulants on offer. There was a drumming show at the Central Bank, possibly the ugliest, most intrinsically evil piece of architecture since the unfinished Death Star, Episode VI, which managed to make even that location something fun and exciting. People were up for it. The city was all good energy last night.
Why do we only get one Culture Night? This magical evening of varied experience, adventure and bonhomie, that can defeat even rain?
I’m not presuming that people don’t host or attend events every other night of the year in Dublin but there is definitely not that type of buzz, an atmosphere that New York or Paris seems to have all the time, in town all year round.
The best thing about Culture Night is not what’s on that night but that it introduces you to so much that is on every other night of the year. The Instituto Cervantes doesn’t go away. They flamenco every Wednesday.
It would be condescending to say that Dublin culture doesn’t turn back into a pumpkin at Culture Midnight. That’s not my point. Of course it’s there all year but our attitude towards it seems to harden. Why wait for an excuse to culture? Dublin is an incredible city for those who embrace it. We tend to disregard the familiar as mundane, tired. We glorify elsewhere (see above). The culture is nightlier on the other side.
We can be reluctant to flamenco, say, in Dublin in September but if it was summer or Erasmus and we were in New York or Madrid we’d be giving it welly. If it wasn’t my usual space, if it were outside of real time.
Dublin today is an amazing time and space to be in. It has so much to offer. It’s great to be reminded of this at the start of another year. You don’t need a capital C and N to make it culture night . So why limit it to a night, to a hook? For Freshers and returnees alike (and most importantly perhaps, Dubs themselves) last night was a great kick in the arse in the direction of town and all it has to offer.
Culture Night is a great night, a great idea. More please.
