St. Patrick's Day in Ireland vs America
My First Impressions of St. Patrick’s Day in Ireland
One of the underrated benefits of solo travel is the gift of time - time to pause, notice, and truly observe. This gift of time can also feel like the enemy at times. While there were moments during my solo trip to Ireland for St. Patrick’s Day that felt like time was my enemy, there were more moments of noticing.
A trip full of many little moments of noticing (both internally and externally) - each one led to a bigger observation: St. Patrick’s Day in Ireland may not be what we make of it in America.
Observation in Galway: Green or no green?
When packing for my recent trip to Ireland, I prioritized three things: a good pair of walking shoes, a warm and waterproof jacket, and an outfit with plenty of green for St. Patrick’s Day.
I felt confident in my choices for all three as I headed off to Galway. However, when I headed out to grab coffee on St. Patrick’s Day morning, dressed in my carefully selected green sweater from home (plus one more newly purchased green local item that morning), my confidence waned as I began to wonder, where’s all the green?
It didn’t take me long to ask this question. It was evident as soon as I stepped out of my hotel and onto Quay Street. As I walked up Quay Street towards my new fave local coffee shop, Coffee Werks, I took notice of who was out and about.
Galway Morning Atmosphere on St. Patrick’s Day
The city was just waking up, and as I wandered, I watched locals unlock their shop doors and set out pub tables and chairs for tourists. Locals were the ones out and about early on St. Patrick’s Day - and none of them were wearing the festive green I have come to associate with celebrating St. Patrick’s Day.
What Locals Wear on St. Patrick’s Day in Ireland
As I arrived at Coffee Werks, my senses were heightened as I began to notice who was or wasn’t wearing green. Immediately upon walking in, I noticed a group of young women in front of me, dressed in jeans, basic white tees, and everyday black winter coats. I listened to them order, and my guess about where they were from was confirmed as I heard the melodic tone of their Irish accents.
As I waited to place my order, I noticed the shop owner behind the counter pouring perfect hearts into each lovely latte and the barista next to him taking orders as more customers filed through the yellow door. The barista behind them pulled espresso shots with precision, passing each one to the shop owner to fill the assembly line of coffee cups. The one thing I didn’t see behind the counter? A stitch of green clothing.
As I waited for my Americano (my order in any country), I noticed myself becoming slightly uncomfortable in my bold new green plaid wool cape and the carefully planned green sweater I wore underneath. However, just as I was beginning to feel a bit too festive, a girl walked into the shop wearing a green shirt and shamrock stickers covering her face. As I listened to her American accent while she placed her order, I only felt comforted in the fact that I had forgone any Shamrock stickers.
With a new awareness of the color green and my coffee in hand, I wandered back onto Quay Street, now wondering if the lack of green was just because it was early in the day or something else. My journey throughout the streets and pubs of Galway on St. Patrick’s Day confirmed it was something else - that St. Patrick’s Day in Ireland, for the Irish, really isn’t the big deal it has become in America (and other countries).
St. Patrick’s Day Parade in Galway
As someone who loves to celebrate holidays, I appreciate the joy of a city gathering to celebrate a holiday. I didn’t always appreciate parades, though. I didn’t grow up in a parade family. We didn’t pack chairs and blankets to claim our front-row spot along the parade route for Thanksgiving or the 24th of July (my Utah people can fill you in on that date). However, I gained a new appreciation for parades after my first trip to New Orleans for Mardi Gras.
How St. Patrick’s Day Parades in Ireland Compare to America
My appreciation for a local holiday parade grew when I was living downtown in Salt Lake City and watched the St. Patrick’s Day parade. While not the same caliber that I’ve heard Boston and Chicago have going on each year around March 17th, Salt Lake City has a decent St. Patrick’s Day parade, complete with bagpipes, Irish Wolfhounds, and plenty of green attire. So, when I headed to the land of St. Patrick, I anticipated a celebration of (at least) a similar vibe.
During my first few days in Galway, hotel staff and bartenders regularly commented on how many people would be descending on the streets of Galway for the St. Paddy’s Day parade. My local friend even commented on how many people would be coming to the city. So naturally, I thought I was in for a true Irish experience. I did get the true Irish experience, which (as it should be) is not the American experience.
Finding My Spot Along the Galway Parade Route
Without the early-arrival parade gene, I was already running behind when I left the coffee shop. The crowd had already formed along the route in Eyre Square, and there were indeed thousands of parade-goers lining the streets. Unable to find a view from the Square, and fearful of missing the grand parade, I cut through the shopping center to the other side of town and followed a local kid down an alleyway to a side street (I should probably have a bigger fear of side streets in new cities, but … ). At the end of my detour, I was just in time to see a marching band turn the corner, heading straight for me.
Clearly, I had found the PERFECT spot to watch the parade! Or so I thought. I stopped and watched as the youth marching band paraded by with their banner. Then, I waited for the other acts to follow. And waited.
When no other acts followed, I set out again in search of the rest of the parade. I marched up the empty sidewalks lining the hill until I finally heard the sound of other onlookers. Thrilled that I had finally found what seemed to be the actual parade route, I settled in, excited to see the floats and other parade acts.
What the Galway St. Patrick’s Day Parade Really Looks Like
I took out my phone, ready to film the big St. Patrick’s Day Parade in Ireland and share it with those back home. However, I quickly began to notice that all of the parade acts were kids. There were no bagpipes, no dancing, and no green clothing. Instead, there were kid cheer squads, local clubs, and my favorite, the Galway Judo Dojo float—a metal trailer with thick blue sparring pads tied to it being slooooowly towed behind a truck while two girls who were probably around 10 years old sparred. Quickly realizing this was truly a local parade, I put my phone away.
A Different Kind of St. Patrick’s Day Parade Experience
Since I was in Ireland for St. Patrick’s Day, an experience I may not have again, I stayed a bit longer to make sure I didn’t miss anything. After a few more local kids’ clubs passed by, I was confident I wouldn’t miss any more of the experience. In the moment, I felt a bit deflated. It was not the St. Patrick’s Day parade I had been expecting, but the journey to get there landed me in the perfect spot for my next St. Patrick’s Day quest.
A Pint in a Pub
Setting My St. Patrick’s Day Goal in Ireland
When I headed to Ireland for St. Patrick’s Day, I had one goal - to find myself drinking and dancing in a pub on St. Patrick’s Day. As “basic” or American as it might sound, I would guess it’s a pretty common ideal for those traveling to Ireland for the holiday. Also, when you are flying solo in a new country, goals help.
Surprisingly, after my first two days in Galway, I wasn’t sure it would happen. Not because there weren’t plenty of pubs around town, but because exploring Galway on my own those first two days had me a bit burned out on the solo travel experience. I was tired, lonely, and questioning whether or not traveling to Ireland for St. Patrick’s Day was worth it (I’ll let you know below). BUT, I was in Ireland on St. Patrick’s Day, and I was going to rally!
Finding a Pub Beyond the Latin Quarter
After I left the parade, I found myself in a part of Galway that felt a bit different from the Latin Quarter (where I was staying). In contrast to the boisterous tourists and twenty-something college kids lined up for pubs on Quay Street, things in this part of town were quieter.
I noticed more kids and families, most of them walking back to their cars after the parade. While most of the adults were dressed in their everyday clothes (just like the local coffee baristas from earlier), most of the kids leaving the parade were in some form of green attire. More than just wearing green, many of the Galway children had some representation of the Irish flag - wearing orange and white with their green.
Just because things were quieter on the streets on this side of town, I could tell there was still plenty of fun and energy happening inside the pubs. I just had to gather up my courage to walk into one of those local pubs, knowing that I might stand out as a solo tourist in my green wool cape.
The Solo-Travel Confidence Test
Solo travel is always a test of confidence. For me, it’s often a challenge of choosing a situation where I may feel seen more than I want to, but knowing I may also experience something wonderful - or passing it by to stay “hidden,” and wondering “what if.” So, while it took a couple of passes by the pubs and a few steps back toward the comfort of the touristy Latin Quarter, I eventually turned around and headed back to the first pub I had passed when leaving the parade.
Although I felt that initial moment of “being seen” when I passed the doorman, I knew I had made the right decision as soon as I stepped through the door. Moreover, I knew how much I would have missed out on if I had let the fear of walking in alone keep me away.
Stepping Into the Irish Pub of My Imagination
That first step through the door transported me into the Irish pub of my imagination. Dimly lit, ceilings covered in brightly colored flags, quirky signs poking out from various corners of the bar, a copy of an Irish Blessing tucked behind the bar - all brought to life by lively music.
The experience got even better when I made my way up to the bar, ordered a Guinness, and tried to hand the barkeep my card. She politely said, “Cash only,” and pointed to the sign that said “Cash only” on the wooden post along the bar. For me, the no-card, cash-only policy just enriched the authenticity of this Irish pub, and I happily reached into my wallet to grab a few euros (secretly thanking myself for remembering to grab some at JFK on my layover).
Although still feeling a bit insecure, I looked for somewhere I could stand and take it all in while I sipped on my first Guinness of the day. The place I found? A fireplace. I didn’t know to ask for a pub with a fireplace when I set the goal to dance in an Irish pub, but as soon as I set my Guinness on the mantle and leaned near the red glow, I knew I was exactly where I wanted to be.
Observing St. Patrick’s Day in an Irish Pub
With a spot secured and a pint in hand, I went back to where I began the day - noticing what St. Patrick’s Day in Ireland is like (vs. its Americanized version).
I noticed the handsome silver-haired Irish man playing his guitar from a little cubby at the center of the bar while the rest of us sang along—sometimes to old Irish tunes, but mostly to the same songs I would hear bar-goers belting out in bars in America.
Initially, I noticed that there still wasn’t much green around, but it was also only 11:00 a.m. when I got to the pub, and most of the patrons were locals with their kids, who had wandered in from the parade. Yes, there were kids in the pub, and honestly - I loved it. The adults enjoyed pints of Guinness or Bulmers while the kids drank juice and ate crisps (potato chips, for us Americans), and they were all laughing, singing, and I imagine creating some beautiful memories.
New Friends, More Pints, and More Noticing
Another pint in, I noticed that more and more people started to wander in. A variety of locals, including Alan, the local Irishman from Galway, who told me, What a story it would be if I took him home to America with me. And then, as I ordered another pint (this is probably where my memory of how many pints I ordered starts to go…), I found myself standing next to two girls wearing green sweaters!
Happy to see some fellow green, it was also comforting to hear their American accents when they asked me to take their picture. Yes, we travel for new experiences, but it’s also okay to feel comfort in the familiar - especially when traveling alone. After I took their picture, we continued chatting, and soon I had two new friends from Tennessee.
Even though I wasn’t flying solo for St. Patrick’s Day any longer, the wonderer in me continued to notice and wonder about the difference between St. Patrick’s Day in Ireland vs. America.
As the day went on, more and more people wearing green filled the pub. Surrounded by plenty of green attire, there were still a lot of non-green-wearing locals, so I asked one of my newfound Irish friends, who was drinking Coors Light, by the way, and he said, It’s just a bank holiday…a day off from work…and a reason to drink.
Finally, something we do in America that they also do in Ireland on St. Patrick’s Day—we drink.
Honoring My Irish Heritage and American Culture
Tracing My Irish Roots
The more I travel, the more I notice, and the more I am brought back to a curiosity about my beliefs. I am aware that my Irish lineage does not make me Irish in the sense that I am not from Ireland. I am very much American.
However, I am also keenly aware that my grandfather, Barney Gogarty, was raised by his father, William Bernard Gogarty, whose grandfather, Bryan Gogarty, was born in Dublin and arrived in America in 1849 to work on the railroads. So, when the Galway man at the neighborhood market I visited on my first day in Galway said, You look like you have some Irish in you, I proudly confirmed that indeed I do.
Growing Up With Irish-American Pride
My pride in my Irish heritage is something that, like many Americans with Irish ancestors, has been instilled in me from a very young age. St. Patrick’s Day was always a cause for celebration, so the idea of celebrating St. Patrick’s Day in Ireland made sense. While I wasn’t sure what to expect from St. Patrick’s Day in Ireland, I anticipated the celebration to feel “more” than it does in America. When it comes to St. Patrick’s Day, though, America goes bigger and bolder than our ancestors may have.
Shifting My Perspective as an American Traveler
As an American - especially as an American traveler - I used to think this was something to be ashamed of. Being an American who goes big. When I stood in the coffee shop in my green attire, I had a moment of feeling this, of wondering if I should be embarrassed to be wearing green in celebration of the day, and being grateful I didn’t have shamrock stickers on my face.
While I do not agree with being obnoxious, especially as an American traveler, the more I went throughout my St. Patrick’s Day in Galway - noticing not only the locals but the tourists - my thoughts on this started to shift.
Conversations With Locals About America
Toward the end of the night, the friends I made from Tennessee and I found ourselves drinking in another pub with a couple more local Irishmen. Sitting around the table, I listened as my fellow Americans asked the Irishmen what they thought of America. More so, I listened to the apologies my fellow Americans made for - being American.
I noticed how the Irishmen shared their observations of things they had seen on the news from (or about) the United States, but not with any judgment toward us American travelers. When I headed to the airport a few days later, my taxi driver asked me, What was going on in America right now… Honestly, a fair question. We had a nice chat, and once again, I noticed there was no hostility or outward judgment toward me - just simple curiosity about the country I live in.
Reframing Our American Excitement
Soon after I returned from my trip, I read a post from an Irish woman on Instagram. She wrote about how, rather than judging Americans for their excitement about their Irish heritage or their desire to celebrate St. Patrick’s Day in a big way, maybe it could be viewed as a positive thing. She talked about how it was an honor that when American ancestors came from Ireland, they were so proud of where they came from that they held onto it by passing it down to each generation, with excitement.
When I headed to Galway for St. Patrick’s Day, I anticipated it to reflect the excitement my ancestors instilled in me—complete with lots of green attire. It didn’t meet my expectations, and yes, there was some disappointment. But if you travel enough, you learn that certain expectations will lead to letdowns. It’s one of the lessons from the map we sometimes need to be reminded of, especially now with social media. Still, those moments of disappointment don’t diminish the value of the trip.
As I’ve always said, it’s not about the destination but who you become along the way—and along the way of drinking a coffee to drinking more pints of Guinness than I remember - I became a little less embarrassed about being an American. I became a little more grateful to come from a people who were proud enough of who they were to want to continue to celebrate in their new land.
As I think back on my day in Galway, I’m reminded that St. Patrick’s Day—whether quiet in Ireland or bold in America—is less about how we celebrate and more about why we do. Travel gives us the space to notice, to question, and to wonder about the stories we carry. And while the celebration wasn’t what I expected, it reminded me that heritage doesn’t look the same everywhere—what matters is remembering where we come from, noticing who we are now, and staying curious about who we’re becoming.