South Dublin

by Ross O'Carroll-Kelly

  The RDS (Royal Dublin Society) was founded in 1731 by the philosophical society at Trinity College as a means of promoting arts, agriculture, industry and science in Ireland. The Move Funderland to the Northside pressure group say they fail to see what the famous funfair contributes in any of those three areas.

  A WORD FROM CHRISTIAN

  The rides in Funderland are supposed to be, like, scary, but they've never freaked me out, not even the Wall of Death. I mean, what speed does that get up to? 100 ks an hour? A traditional Landspeeder – take Luke Skywalker's first SoroSuub X-34, for example – can hit 250 ks at top speed. I am not bullshitting you.

  You think that's good? Remember those repulsorlift speeder bikes that the Empire used as, like, reconnaissance vehicles on Endor? Really put your foot down on one of those and the needle will start tipping 500 ks. Seriously, it'd make anything they have in Funderland look like a sandcrawler. But then, they're all in the ha'penny place compared to the scimitar assault bomber, which is, like, the new generation of TIE fighter. I heard this, like, rumour that this goy made the trip to hyperspace in one? We're talking light-speed velocity? Could be total bullshit, of course, but I believe it…

  ‘Don't even get me onto Iron Maiden, Slipknot and Metallica,’ spokeswoman Fionnuala O'Carroll-Kelly said during the group's annual Christmas picket of the RDS in 2006.

  Other Highlights of Dublin 4

  Kielys of Donnybrook serves a cocktail called the Die Hard Brennan, named after the Toulouse and former Ireland lock Trevor Brennan. This little concoction contains, appropriately enough, black and blue vodka, Curaçao, After Shock and orange juice, and its effect is just like being hit by the 18-stone man-mountain – in a juggernaut cab.

  On Saturday and Sunday afternoons in Ballsbridge you can watch gangs of muscle-bound jocks, buzzing on Red Bull and creatine, throwing rugby balls around Herbert Park, watched by a chorusline of fawning females. It's an elaborate seduction ritual that's as old as rugby itself, and it's well worth a look.

  Our Lady Queen of Peace Catholic Church on Merrion Road is one of the only church car parks in the world where clamping is in operation. You might think you're being clever lashing the Volvo in there instead of the pay-and-display car park at the front of the church before nipping into Bianconi's for a vanilla latte, but you are sure to incur the wrath of God's Clampers.

  RTÉ screens a soap opera based in North Dublin called Fair City, which many Southsiders thought was a comedy for the first two years of its broadcast, designed to poke fun at their cousins across the river. Because of security considerations, the show is filmed not on location in the north inner city but in the RTÉ car park in Donnybrook, where a replica model of a typical Northside shithole has been built out of plywood. A visit to ‘Carrickstown’ is a great opportunity to view the shocking conditions in which these people live without having to actually cross the Liffey.

  Sandymount has that most South Dublin of accoutrements, a yoga studio called Exhale, while Browne's coffee shop is one of the best places in Dublin 4 to ogle good-looking women over the top of your Irish Times Weekend section on a Saturday morning.

  The excellent Terroirs in Donnybrook stocks not only fancy wine but Michel Cluizel chocolate, the most sure-fire way of getting into a girl's knickers short of telling her that you love her.

  The French Paradox is a warm and Parisian-mannered wine-bar-cum-restaurant in Ballsbridge, which hosts tastings on Tuesday evenings. A couple of hours of tuition, a bellyful of vino and all the cheese and charcuterie you can stuff in your pockets – all for less than fifty sheets. It's a classy joint – ooh la la meets la di dah.

  Suggested Itinerary in Dublin 4

  Enjoy a hearty, traditional English breakfast at the Berkeley Court Hotel. Take a taxi to Dublin Castle in the City Centre to see a D4 denizen evade questions relating to the source of his wealth at one of Ireland's many tribunals of investigation. Go to Donnybrook Fair, then take a picnic of linseed bread, Tallegio and quails’ eggs to Herbert Park. Realize you don't like Tallegio or quails’ eggs and don't care much for linseed bread either. Dump all three in a bin. Watch the rugby stars of tomorrow in action in a live Leinster Senior Schools Cup match at Donnybrook. Enjoy the legendary ‘one or two’ Kens in Kielys, followed by one or two Die Hard Brennans. Phone the concierge at the Four Seasons in Ballsbridge and ask him to send a limo for you. Check into a suite. Enjoy dinner in the hotel restaurant. Afterwards, order Champagne Mojitos for everyone in the Ice Bar. Put it all on your credit card. Sell a kidney or other non-vital internal organ to pay for it.

  2. Rathgar

  Rathgar – or Rath Gawr, as it's more popularly known – is South Dublin's Left Bank, a smug, sophisticated little suburb where there is no greater pleasure in the world than strolling down to one of the many local patisseries for an almond croissant or a poppy-seed baguette on a lazy Saturday morning. This is the place where many of Ireland's über-rich have found contentment and the quiet life. Rathgar is one of the most boring places on Earth, with hardly anything ever happening here – and that suits the locals just fine…

  Rathmines is a student ghettoland, where nobody who

  has ever done a day's work, doesn't enjoy KFC or has

  no opinion on George W Bush, is safe at night.

  High property prices and a more settled community have prevented Rathgar from becoming a student ghettoland like nearby Rathmines. A standard, semi–detached house in Rathgar will set you back about €1.5 million, or upwards of €2.5 million for a pile on one of Rathgar's famous red-brick Victorian terraces. Many of the stars of the Law Library have made their homes here, though most of Rathgar's wealth is inherited and old money snobbery abounds, so much so that plans are at an advanced stage to build an Israeli-style security wall to protect it from arriviste Terenure.

  Rathgar is where most of South Dublin's rich kids go to fail their driving test – usually in their mothers’ Fiat Puntos or Honda Civics. However, it's probably most synonymous with the takeaway gourmet food shops that have earned Rathgar the nickname New Deli.

  The people of Rathgar are famous for their snootiness and lack of sociability, yet they are acutely aware of their place in the world. And if they're not, there are reminders everywhere. The dry cleaners in the village advertise their ironing service with giant pictures of Ralph Lauren and Tommy Hilfiger shirts in their window, while the local travel agents advertise holidays in some of the world's most exclusive ski resorts, shopping breaks in New York and long weekends in the foreign property supermarket of Dubai, which is known as the Rathgar of the East. The village even boasted its own piano shop, though it recently relocated to a site just off the M50 as just about everybody in Rathgar already owns a Steinbach, Viscount or Rodgers.

  Visitors to Rathgar will discover a contented, leafy idyll that's as somnolent as a sunny Sunday morning in June.

  History

  Rath is the Gaelic word for ‘revenge’, while Gar means ‘rich people’. Shortly after the failed 1798 rebellion the area was settled by a group of wealthy landowners and businessmen, who wanted to put distance between themselves and the uncouth element north of the Liffey, and were ignorant enough to think they could live without the English. Most Rathgar residents can trace their ancestral lineage back to that seminal moment in the village's history.

  Rathgar has always had a large, well-to-do Protestant population. It's interesting that it's the Presbyterian church, Christ Church, at the junction of Rathgar Road and Highfield Road that dominates the village. The less imposing Church of the Three Patrons on Rathgar Road was historically known as the servants’ church, as most of the Catholics in the town were only there to clean people's houses. Happily, this is one of the fine traditions that has been preserved to

  South Dublin's slaves were freed by the Emancipation

  Act of 1998, though many chose to remain in servitude,

  knowing no other way of life.

  this day, though most of Rathgar's ‘domestics’ have been moved out
of their old mews quarters and into nearby Rathmines and Harold's Cross.

  A WORD FROM ROSS

  Rathgor has the distinction of being one of the seven test centres where I've, like, failed my driving test. I think they might even have put up a plaque to say that. Looking back, roysh, this was the one I felt most confident about passing. I actually did a serious amount of cramming the night before and even, like, drove the route a couple of times? So I turn up for the test, roysh, and it turns out I went out on a couple of dates with the examiner's daughter, Elmarie. Not good news. But I suppose when you've been around the track more times than Beef or Salmon, these things are bound to happen.

  I have bad memories of driving both of them, as it happens.

  I was out with Elmarie one night, coming back from the flicks, I think, when she turned around to me and said those seven deadly words: ‘I don't believe in sex before marriage.’ It was probably a bit horsh, roysh, but I put her out of the cor. Don't worry, I did actually stop first.

  Anyway, roysh, her old man obviously knows who I am and he knows my rep, because from the time we set off he was giving me majorly negative vibes. I mean, he ended up failing me for pretty much nothing. Except those two near-crashes, only one of which was my fault, I might add. Anyway, roysh, at the end he tells me to return to the test centre and I'm sensing the dude's hostility and I'm thinking, Hey, all this aggravation ain't satisfactioning me, Dude. So I end up putting him out of the cor as well. Maybe he was going to give me a pass after all. Still, it was worth it to see his face when he was standing at the focking bus stop.

  Famous Residents

  James Joyce was born in Rathgar, in Brighton Square, so it's well he could afford to swan off to Paris to write books that no one can understand. Another famous author, Bram Stoker, lived in Orwell Park in the later part of his life. His book about a man with slicked-back hair who dresses in black and sucks blood out of people is believed to be based on his experiences with South Dublin estate agents. Jack Lynch, Ireland's former Taoiseach, lived in Rathgar for a time and is believed to be the only GAA player ever to do so, while the murdered underworld figure Martin Cahill – aka The General – lived at Cowper Downs… a bit too close to Rathgar for the liking of many locals.

  A WORD FROM FIONN

  John Millington Synge, the dramatist and poet, grew up in Rathgar. He was actually born in Rathfarnham, but when he was young his father died from smallpox and he moved with his mother to Rathgar, to the house next door to his maternal grandmother. He is said to have developed his lifelong love of ornithology while studying the birds along the banks of the River Dodder. His masterpiece, of course, was The Playboy of the Western World, which was first performed at the Abbey in 1907 and caused riots because of its portrayal of peasant life in rural Ireland.

  Which is interesting…

  Shopping

  Not a huge amount. Rathgar is one of those villages where there's a lot less to it than meets the eye. That's fine by the locals, who don't want it turned into some kind of bazaar. Lamps and Lighting is a seriously swanky shop, where you can buy lights that will – get this – determine the mood of each room in your house. Then there's the wonderful Benezet Antiques, a real Aladdin's Cave of a shop where you can pick up everything from an early-twentieth-century dresser for €8,500 to a Victorian-style coal scuttle for less than €1,000.

  How to Get There

  Rathgar is well served by public transport, with a number of routes linking it not only to Dublin City Centre but also to the suburbs of Terenure, Templeogue and Tallaght. We are unable to publish details of these routes, however, due to the threat of a court injunction by the people of Rathgar.

  Where to Eat

  At home. See below.

  ‘I'll take that to go’

  Rathgar isn't terribly well served by coffee shops where you can spend a couple of hours dawdling over an espresso mallowchino or an orange and passionfruit infusion, catching up on the local gossip. Rathgar folk like to keep themselves to themselves, and even the ladies-who-lunch prefer to do so at home in their expensive chrome-and-glass fitted kitchens. This explains why Rathgar has more delicatessens and gourmet food shops per head of population than Greenwich Village. In fact, so synonymous has it become with creamy puy lentils, mozzarella tartlets and spinach, roast pepper and feta quiche that Rathgar regularly tops internet polls to find Ireland's gayest town.

  With its blue-and-white striped awning swaying gently in the breeze, Deli Boutique reflects the Parisian pretensions of its customers, who flock there on Saturday and Sunday mornings to buy croissants and pain au chocolat for their eleven o'clock brunch.

  Perusing the shelves of the excellent Gourmet Shop will have you feeling like you've just stepped into the pages of a Famous Five book – fennel bread, avocados and, of course, lashings of ginger beer, not to mention other essentials, such as Rooibosch tea, organic tofu and riso arborio.

  Even people who live alone are well catered for, with The Butler's Pantry stocking a wide range of ready-cooked meals-for-one in little aluminium trays. Sad? Well, how does gravadlax sound to you – apart from impossibly foreign? Or how about ricotta, leek and pinenut strudel followed by smoked trout and salmon timbales? With a menu like that, who needs a wife? In fact, the duck rillette with balsamic onions and orange is considered the main reason why Rathgar's twenty-and thirty-somethings are choosing not to marry.

  A WORD FROM OISINN

  If you were to ask me to choose a ladies’ fragrance that captures the essence of Rathgar, I would probably have to go for Classique by Jean Paul Gaultier. It's mild and vanilla-sweet, yet has an impossible elusiveness and an indefinable mystique.

  Pubs and Clubs

  Coman's is where Rathgar's young, well-heeled set hang out, a pub that looks like it's been torn from the pages of a Habitat catalogue, with big red chairs and mood lighting everywhere, not to mention a wine shop. Around here they even prefer their drink ‘to go’.

  Entertainment

  Coman's has a toilet with a sensor-operated flushing action.

  Suggested Itinerary in Rathgar

  Go to a deli, buy a chocolate croissant and eat it standing outside one of the big swanky houses on Victoria Road or Zion Road, imagining what it would be like to live there. Buy The Dubliner magazine, the local bible, and read it over a cappuccino while sitting in a big red chair in Coman's. Sit your driving test. Buy an expensive lamp. Bed by 2 pm.

  THE LAST WORD FROM RATHGAR – FROM CHRISTIAN

  Rathgar is, like, cool. It's such a great place to go and kick back and chillax. Han and Leia took the kids there when all that shit was going down with the Koornacht Cluster… oh, no, actually… no, I'm thinking of Rathalay, which is this, like, planet that has these, like, grey basalt beaches? But where you can't swim because they're pretty dangerous, those waters. See, they've got, like, narkaas, which would basically chew you in half. The number of people who've been eaten while diving for mote shells, you wouldn't actually believe…

  3. Dundrum

  It would be wrong to describe Dundrum as a village. It's so much less than that. It's a big shopping centre with some houses around it. But then, to refer to Dundrum Town Centre as a shopping centre is to sell it woefully short – it's the quintessential South Dublin lifestyle experience. It's so stuffed to the oxters with marquee-name shops, cafés and restaurants, you could pass a whole day and night in here without ever knowing it – and with no clocks and very few windows onto the outside world, it's quite possible you will…

  South Dublin is where you'll see clothes associated with vastly different climatic regions – on the same body.

  These famous fleece-lined Ugg boots, for instance, are usually worn with short skirts, strappy tops and a litre or two of fake tan. From the knees up, you're going

  nightclubbing in Rio de Janeiro. From the knees down, you're going seal-clubbing in Antarctica.

  Set in the heart of the self-styled Dublin 4 (teen), this is where the Celtic Tiger cubs go to dispose
of their income. Seven days a week, twenty-four hours a day, they keep the tills ringing. This is mall life as South Dublin's close friends, the Americans, live it, with thousands of people thronging the well-oxygenated, artificially lit atria, shopping intently or simply ‘hanging out’.

  Here, you'll see women in their forties in jodhpurs and tight white shirts, with dyed blonde hair and all-year tans, flashing fake smiles at shop assistants who look like they don't really need to work. You'll see red-faced men in Pringle sweaters, laden down with shopping bags, tagging along after them and conducting conversations at impossibly high decibel levels on their mobile phones. However, most of its habitués are under the age of twenty-five, predominantly sixteen- and seventeen-year-old girls with bodies like nine-year-old Chinese gymnasts, wearing UGG boots, mini-skirts and expertly applied fake tan. And teenage boys with blond streaks, wearing pink Airtexes or Leinster rugby shirts. In short, everyone is happy, beautiful – and carrying a large coffee, fruit juice or smoothie ‘to go’.

  Check out the cars in Dundrum's state-of-the-art ‘smart-park’. It's full of 07 BMWs, VW Beetle convertibles and people-carriers built like Panzer tanks – a perfect snapshot of a contented, materialistically happy Ireland at the dawn of a new century.