The day started easy, a relaxed breakfast and then a side trip over to see the Dark Hedges, an interesting row of 300 year old trees; boney white branches interlacing into a tunnel.
We drove through the little village of Stranocum, which would be unremarkable except this is where it really hit me, this whole Unionist vs. Nationalist thing. Stranocum has the British flag and Ulster Banner flying everywhere. I don't mean one or two flags, but every house, telephone pole, business; it is not subltle. The town is yelling, "HEY! This is part of the UK! What'cha gonna do about it?" almost like a dare. I am not picking on them, this is just where I was finally able to put my finger on it. Thinking about it, parts of Derry/Londonderry were clearly staked out territories, and driving through the countryside you usually know for sure which way a town leans. It's pretty common to see the flags at the tops of the power poles, sicks crudely taped and nailed in place.
There was not much to the border crossing, we just zoomed across and a sign announced the switch from mph to km. That was it. No "Welcome to Ireland" stuff.
It's fun listening to the radio here, they just don't censor a thing.
Not. A. Thing.
No word, discussion topic or random thought is off limits, which is not only very entertaining, but surprisingly refreshing. It also makes you listen really close, even during the most boring announcement or interview. This whole "randomly throwing in banned words or thoughts" idea could be a real winner for business meetings.
Zooming through one town, I catch a glimpse of Lord Edward Street.
I knew it!
You may refer to me simply as "Lord" from now on.
Gail tried it out: "Oh Lord!" said in a kind of groan.
"Yes?"
Later, she pointed out that the Lord can get kind of annoying. Lord, forgave her.
Well, we made it to Galway, where we have a nice guest house. It's an easy walk into town, through the main square. The square is full of people sitting on steps and under trees, playing frisbee and listening to a really bad Karaoke - Frank Sinatra who is dressed appropriately but sings way, way off key. A huge rust - colored sculpture, "The Hooker" dominates one end of the square. We are surprised at just what a nice couple of pedestrian streets full of shops and artists are here: street magicians, the sand guy making a dog sculpture, the usual guitar players and so on, backed by a nice selection of restaurants with outside seating. The streets extend down to the waterfront, and the grassy areas and quay are packed with people. So we grab an empty table outside the Quay Street Kitchen and settle in for a long dinner and enjoyable people watching. We order a bottle of French wine, and split an old fashioned potted crab with smashed fennel seeds, chili, grated tangy lemon butter, mayonnaise, and a pinch of nutmeg, served with crusty bread.
Lord, it was excellent!
Why, yes it was, thanks for the comment.
Gail had carrot orange and ginger soup, while I had Irish lamb shank with a rosemary, thyme, and red wine sauce, served with champ. Champ is potatoes and onions, mashed. I don't even really like lamb, it just sounded good and I thought, what the hell?
Well, Lord knows: It was all fantastic. So good I ordered dessert for only the second time this trip. Chocolate brownie. Score! Between the warm red wine, outdoor street scene, Norah Jones spilling out of the pub across the street, it was amazing; memorable meal #3.
Lord knows, we needed it.
Yes we did, I'm welcome.
But Galway really starts to shine at night. About 21:00 the pubs come alive with music, lasting till midnight. Most every pub has a live act. There are a lot of traditional musicians, and they kind of rotate pub to pub until they settle in with a group, which changes from evening to evening, so you never know what kind of mix you will end up with. One pub had some singers way in the back, which was hard to see, and another had a guy on guitar playing American oldies, which didn't fit the Irish mood. The last place, where we closed out the bar (they stop about midnight) had two guys, guitar and banjo and tight harmonies on traditional songs. They were really great, and we spent our last hour here.
But, we spent most of the night at the first pub, the Tiġ Ċoílí, with a large group of musicians playing traditional, instrumental music. I had the local Galway Brewery "Hooker Irish Pale Ale," Gail had a real Irish Coffee, and we stood by the bar watching the band and making friends.
The music: one person, a guitarist, flute, mandolin or accordion would start in and play a simple round. By the end of the first go-through the rest would all be joined in. It seems they all play by ear, and as they play through the basic song each time it varies on complexity or who takes the lead with embellishment while the others all carry on. Then somehow they all decide to just stop, everybody drinks their beer, and the next person starts up on the next tune. So we stood by the bar, and a group of University students just elbowed in and started talking to us.
Snippets of our conversation:
I am a first year primary level 3 teacher (7-8 year olds) in Scotland, do you have any suggestions for survival? How do you stay sober bar hopping? This is Junior. I'd like to come to America. New York City, my family went there. Junior has a real name, we can't remember it. Here is my card, I can't hear too good over the band, email your questions to me. Eat a big meal first, it absorbs the first dose of alcohol. Junior is an economics professor in New Zealand. Does the same band play here every night? WOOOOOT! The little primary kids drive me nuts, maybe I can get a job teaching in the US instead? Economics is a boring subject but my students say I make it come alive. There is a dragon parade tonight. WOOOOO! I'll have another Hooker. You should come with us to the silent disco. I don't think going to New York to teach is the answer. WOOOO! WOOOOOT! Junior here is my sister's boyfriend. The silent disco is in a big room, you wear headphones and so it is silent in the room.
Eventually they moved back in the pub and sure enough the Dragons came by. We couldn't miss them, though they were out in the street, it was so loud the music in the pub was drowned out; Dragons thumping and pulsing to a techno soundtrack as strobes flashed and smoke swirled about. It was deafening. We stepped back to the bar and an older guy asked, "American?"
"No, California" I said. Big smile.
Well, he's been to San Francisco but really likes Boston, his brother is in New York and he lived there a couple years; hey those college kids, huh? Smile. They'll be falling down drunk soon. Want another beer? How do we stay sober drinking so much? Hell if I know; I'm going to get plastered!
Oh Lord, these Irish.
I know, I know.
One of the previously - mentioned college friends, the brother of the sister who can't remember Junior's name, comes back in, looks right at me, leans into my face: WOOOOOT!
I don't even blink, stare back at him and yell WOOOOOO! We both laugh, he gives me a big hug and moves back to his group. Standing to my right at the bar is a group of forty-somethings, they laugh, smile, I get a thumbs up and one comes over, "You are THE MAN!" I just smile, thinking, "Really?" But they laugh and offer to buy me a beer. The hell?
And so these are the fragments I can recall after a night of too much music, too much beer, too many pubs and new friends.
Lord, it's fun to work your way up to the bar and say, "I want a Hooker."
This whole trip was worth it just to experience the music tonight.
Lord knows, and Lord proclaims it good.
I have spoken, thus it is.