A bird cannot fly on only one wing --Part 2

Few things seem as strictly Irish as their dancing, singing, and music. (But even as I write it ... I realize that the Irish search for their own nation was based on the fact that everything about their culture ... music, language, camaraderie ... is strictly Irish. Their food might be the sole exception  ... leaning toward England a bit but their emphasis on seafood puts even their food in a separate category.) 

Along the way, we'd heard bits and pieces of Irish music ... and Jean and I had insisted on buying a CD to play as we toured the Ring of Beara. But our "boyos" weren't all that interested in music and so it quickly moved to the bottom of the list. In reading about Trim, I found that they had some of the oldest and finest pubs in the country ... and a quick conversation with the "publican" (hint: in the States we call him the bartender!) gave us two or three pubs that had Irish musicians. Again ... neither Rob nor John seemed interested but Jean and I were definitely independent enough to state that we were going anyway. After a lovely "last meal" (you can't count "gas station" food although it is a bit like Italy where they have full-service meals at their petrol stops) ... John continued to opt out but Rob decided to come with us.

We appreciate his company as we walked the mile or so to the pub. There was not a soul on the downtown (city centre!) sidewalks. I was despairing of hearing Irish music close-up when we heard a melancholy tune wafting over the cobblestone sidewalk (pavement). Our destination, the James Griffin, exuded all the energy that was missing from the city streets. As we stepped inside, it seemed that most of Trim was there ... and while the ages ranged from 20 to 80 ... "our" age group was well-represented. The pub itself was nearly 150 years old ... and was the crooked little pub you would expect with rooms added to the original (the "new rooms" with only 100 years behind them). Cozy, lots of conversations, and smiles everywhere. 

Jean found 3 little stools not in use so we tucked ourselves into a corner ... no tables available, of course! The publican found us quickly ... as Becky pointed out ... Jean does tend to get noticed. She also earns the respect of all with her caring manner and ability to draw people out on their favorite subject ... Ireland. So the young boyo was with us immediately taking our drink orders. While even Ireland has not converted me to a beer drinker, I have loved their cider, which is quite potent and needs to be enjoyed carefully. However, besides tasting good, it has the same color as most of the lagers, which helps me blend into the crowd a bit! (And while I'm not a huge fan of white wine ... it was the one wine that I saw imbibed in the pubs of Ireland.The other odd choice ... to us ... is the Irish fondness for Coors Light. And Coors are masterful marketers ... in looking for "free coasters" to take home to a couple of friends ... all we saw that evening were Coors! Rob tried the craft beers throughout the land but always came back to a Guinness Stout .. Extra Stout!) 

We'd told ourselves that we'd just stay for a song or two ... but then the music began and we were carried away to a far distance ("Far and Away") time in Ireland. We listened to an entire set and then, when the "group" broke (3 of them ... seated in the opposite corner for us ... one on a banjo ... sometimes a mandolin; one on a concertina ... sometimes a flute ... and one on a guitar ... also the lead singer), they headed right towards us. We assumed that Jean was the beacon but they wanted to talk with Rob and me ... we must look the most "States" to them although they did politely ask where we were from ... as if the answer was anything but the States. 

The lead singer, Terry Lynch, was a bit shy and spent some time shuffling his feet but it was clear that he wanted to converse. After we spoke for about 10 minutes ... and it was time for him to return to his singing ... he said "You have made my evening." I said ... "No, no ... that's ours to say."  After being introduced to Jean, btw, he did ask if she wanted to hear any John Denver. She just laughed and said she preferred the Irish music. 

If you have been reading this blog long enough, you're likely getting used to its title ... me, too. But when the group started singing "When Irish Eyes Are Smiling" ... my heart just froze ... could they really be singing it? None of the other tunes were so recognizable ... plus it was relatively late in the evening (we stayed until closing ... which in Ireland is early ... 11:30) so I did feel like it was fate. Others may scoff but the moment could not be spoiled. And later, when a young Irish lass, whom they seemed to know, approached with her flute and led them through the most sorrowful rendition of Danny Boy that I've heard, I knew that my initial instincts were right: magical, simply magical. 

So yes, my quest for true Irish music was complete. I would have gone home with a heart full of memories with or without Terry Lynch but oh, it was so much more appropriate to the Irish experience. On the other hand, just when I thought the evening couldn't get any better ... an older man ... guessing 75 or so ... from the audience ... began to sing. As first a few joined in but then, recognizing the power and beauty of his voice, the entire bar fell quiet. When he was done ... the men were wiping their eyes, I was a puddle, and the clapping would have raised the dead. He seemed a bit surprised but just nodded. Then another younger man began ... "Paul ... we need one more." Paul just shook his head. The musicians then joined in on the plea ... but no, nothing more from Paul. Finally the young man who first spoke up said, "Paul ... to leave us without a second song ... well, that would be like a bird who cannot fly on only one wing." And so Paul acceded to the request and finished off the evening for us in finest Irish form ... and although I only recognized bits and pieces of the music ... Jean recorded it and so we will try to find it for the video/photo book that she is putting together. 

I have a few concluding posts about Ireland ... as the Irish might say, "Surely and again ... this canna' come as a great surprise to ya'." But as you can see, we finished out the Irish experience with an evening that we are not likely to repeat no matter how often we return.