Galway Love

Galway, November

We went for the music but stayed for the romance. Wandering the German   Christmas Market (bratwurst and beer garden) which occupies the green space in Eyre Square for  a month before Christmas, we joined the pedestrian parade looking for The Perfect Pub.  Slurping salty north Atlantic oysters by the fire at the iconic Quays  was lovely, but besides us, a Guinness -slinging couple at the bar, and the oysters; the place  was empty.  Outside, the pedestrian shopping streets were packed with shoppers, revelers. and street musicians, despite the increasing chill as night rolled in. Joining them, we looked at merino cardigans, Irish baby bibs ("make mine a pint of milk") and eyeballed a window full of fiddles, guitars, whistles and accordians while shopkeepers talked economic disaster. Line -caught haddock and chips from McDonagh's eaten on the quay by the roiling Corrib; the fragrant, steamy fish  warmed our hands and bellies against the increasingly Arctic air.

Live music in Ireland frequently starts right around when I start yawning, but Tig Coili has two sessions where one bleeds into the other at  6:30 and 9:30, so we circled back to grab a seat. This  engaging little pub is sandwiched between  Mainguard and Shop Street creating  a sort of  this side/ that side music experience as visitors exit and enter through opposing doors. The musicians weren't there  at 7 but we pulled stools and waited. One by one  players sauntered in, dropped an instrument box on the bench, hugged a few people, took a drink from the bar and went outside for a smoke.

By 8 the place was packed and the music (oddly, Irish pub bands consist  increasingly of banjos, balalaikas, and bozoukis) rockin'. The two doors opened and shut with frigid regularity but the couple fooling around in the entryway held my attention as they beamed enough warmth to heat up the entire room. I caught the long haired young woman's eye and she held up...a ring, so it was no surprise when her tall, beer- happy companion  rapped his pint glass for silence and in Scandinavian -accented English announced that he had just asked "this wooman" to marry him and she had said yes.

A round (ale) on the house along with a group  congratulation with many well wishers, and the band played on. The music got cheerier and the craic was cookin'. The band dedicated the next song and two more glasses of ale to the newly engaged duo.  I suspected the song (in Gaelic) might not have been completely dedicated to the  joys of love and marriage as several  giggling flat caps at the bar slapped each other at the refrains, but it didn't matter.  People  took it upon themselves to congratulate the young couple and drink to their happiness.  Cameras snapped and there were repeated cries of "Slainte!".  The band asked if they would be requiring their services at the wedding and the couple said sure, if they happened to have a gig in Stockhom that week.

Looking around the gathering as the music played over and around the happy, Guinness-fueled gathering, I thought  I could see each one of us imagining this couples' life--sharing the news with friends and family, getting married, raising a family, growing old. Would they always cherish this night? This place? These well wishers? Would they come back here for anniversaries? Bring the kids? Would they dance to this music at their wedding?

We sat through another set and braced ourselves for the dark stroll back to   our lodging. Opening the door into the cold night leaving the fire and the light and the music behind us, we held hands and walked back into our own lives.