Last saturday was special.
Very special.
Even more special than tomorrow.

Because I'm in Dublin.
Because I'm a french girl.
Because there were a lot of men in a sweat.
Because they were fighting in mud.

As all of you would have guess (I hope), I watched the rugby game in a pub.
And it was awesome.

We went to the TP Smith (near Henry St), since Temple Bar was crowded, with some friends. We were 3 froggys, and 2 irish girls.
I must admit that I missed the first few minutes of the match, but I arrived soon enough to see the first Irish penalty. The atmosphere was incredible: half of the pub was french, the rest of them was irish. Which means that at each action, half of the pub was cheering the players, whereas the other half was moaning.

It is quite useless to say that everyone was pretty tense during the break, so all the smokers went outside to try to calm their nerves and, as I was the only non-smoker, I stayed at the table, first because someone had to look after the things (the jacket of one of us had been stolent just the day before), second because we wanted to have seats for the second period, and third because it was fucking cold outside.

When they came back, I learnt that they bet that if the french won, the irish would pay a round, and the other way around if the irish won.
So the game took another dimension, and everyone was pretty tense. After all, here a pint of beer cost 5€.

Then we enjoyed the tries and transformation on both side, but the touches were only enjoyed by irish, I fear.
After the game (great one, I must admit), we could start a proper conversation, not just short teasing between two actions.
So some people joined us (they were in Croke park and had seen the match live), and we had a nice little conversation.

Err... They had a nice conversation. Since as soon as it wasn't just a dialog between me and (and I will call her like that, no offense meant) the woman from Cork (with such a strong accent) but went on a conversation including the two irish girls, I couldn't speak anymore. In a sense, it was reassuring that I could understand pretty much everything they said (as far as I was focused on the conversation), but I was enable to take any part in it, because they were far too fast for me to get a chance to speak.

At last, we spent some time in this pub, and then we went to the church (famous bar/nightclub) constructed in a real church, froggies to drown their sorrow, irish to celebrate.
There, we met load of french supporters, some more fairplay than the other, but all were glad in the warm atmosphere of Dublin.
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