‘It’s not a hen party hellscape’: Dublin’s Temple Bar strives to shake off its bad reputation | Ireland

When Ireland redeveloped part of central Dublin in the 1990s, the idea was to create a version of Paris’s Left Bank, a cultural district of cobbled streets, art and urban renewal.

Planners and architects have transformed the run-down Temple Bar site on the banks of the River Liffey into an ambitious experiment that has attracted scores of visitors and won awards.

Thirty years later, there are some sobering conclusions about what happened next.

“Temple Bar appears to be becoming a violent post-apocalyptic place,” a judge said last year after sentencing a man who beat his victim with a can of cider. “It’s shocking to see that people can’t be safe there. It makes it a no-go area for people.”

Frank McDonald, writing about town planning for the Irish Times, recalled how he moved to the area with optimism in 1995, only to flee in 2022 amidst hordes of pub crawlers and loud nightclub music. “I was afraid our house would become uninhabitable” wrote in July.

More grim headlines have since emerged, including allegations of the mugging of a visiting NFL quarterback and the assault of a British tourist who later died. A. reviewing online reviews It has cast Temple Bar as the world’s third-largest tourist trap, reinforcing the perception of it as a rowdy, rowdy area reserved for stag and hen parties.

This amounts to a crushing indictment of the original vision: crime and overpriced Guinness instead of arts and culture.

But there is an alternative view that Temple Bar has fallen victim to outdated stereotypes and that a renaissance is under way, making the area a vibrant and valuable home for organizations such as the Irish Film Institute, Project Arts Centre, Smock Alley Theater and the Graphic Studio Gallery.

“This is Dublin’s cultural district,” said Martin Harte, the group’s chief executive. Temple Bar Companya collaboration. “It’s the age of heavy drinking; it’s not like that anymore. Temple Bar is a completely different place. It’s the front room of Dublin City.”

Harte said violent incidents attract public attention, but they are very rare despite the 24 million annual visits. “It’s not right to say Temple Bar is unsafe. Walk around, there’s everything from small art galleries to cafes, tattoo parlors, vintage clothing stores, hotels. This is where people come, it gives it that electricity.”

Tom Roo, 39, and Heather Mitchell, 28, a couple from Leeds, agree. “I was waiting for young gentlemen and drinking everywhere, but it’s really nice to be around, it’s relaxed,” Roo said. Mitchell found the bars picturesque; Even more beautiful than her photos on Instagram.

By the 1980s much of this lane and street network was abandoned and was destined to become a bus terminal. Instead, in 1991 the government decided to transfer Dublin’s European city of culture year to a showcase project driven by a government agency and tax incentives. Renovated historical buildings, new contemporary structures and art installations have created a turning point in urban transformation.

The decade also brought cheap flights, kids’ culture and super bars that transformed Temple Bar into a boozy destination. “That’s where he got his first lines, his brand,” Harte said. “You had to line up behind 30-40 people to get in anywhere for a drink.”

The so-called cultural center was called the Temple of Bars and was likened to Ibiza. The bacchanalia continued into the economic crisis of 2008 and led another judge, ruling in a 2017 assault case, to brand Temple Bar a vomit-splattered brand. “Ireland’s shame”.

The Covid pandemic has brought further challenges. Gangs were looting, stealing and vandalizing on the streets where the police were not under control. “All the zombies showed up,” said Ángel Luis González, director of PhotoIreland, which runs exhibitions and a bookstore called The Library Project.

But reflecting a widespread view among stakeholders, González said improving policing restores safety, trust and an eclectic vibe. People who come to take selfies in front of famous bars end up visiting galleries and discovering artists.

John Cullen, who runs a jewelery shop and stall in a refurbished square, said the open-air market attracts families with children. “This place is civilizing.”

Harte said pubs such as the Palace, Gogarty’s and Norseman still drew large crowds, but the number of late-night licenses allowing venues to serve alcohol until 3am had fallen from 25 to seven, and fine dining had become more common. “Every bar serves food now. People are still drinking, but nowhere near the old levels.”

Will Wollen, who moved to Temple Bar two years ago to run the Gaiety School of Acting, said the area’s reputation for excess was unfair. “There’s an energy, but it’s not stag party hell. It’s a pub culture with warmth and friendliness.”

Stephen Kennedy, who runs the Copper and Straw cafe and chairs the Aston Quay and Temple Bar Business and Residents’ Alliance, said there were plans for more street art, seating, lighting and perhaps an outdoor cinema. “I tell every tourist who comes to Dublin that Temple Bar is a must-see.”

Other Dubliners, by contrast, urge visitors to stay away unless they enjoy crowds, price gouging and faux-Irishness. Critics also accuse platforms like Airbnb of increasing rents and driving people out of their homes.

Perry Share, a sociologist and co-editor of a book on Irish pubs, said Temple Bar is a “pub theme park” that offers a degree of authenticity. “Tourists come to replicate the experience of an Irish pub they’ve perhaps seen online. Music and booze are key to that.”

Last week’s early evening drinkers’ vox pop toasted Temple Bar. “TikTok said it was too touristy but the engagement has been great,” said Tom Salter, 22, from London. Derbyshire’s Dave Howard had a warning. “Watching a bachelorette party can be pretty entertaining. But of course not for the locals.”