Random Encounters in Galway

Galway is more or less a typical college town. There's plenty of cheap food, bars, and trendy shops. The whole place appears to be built around the school, as most of the people I ran into around town, whether it was 5PM or 2AM, were young university students. At around 2:00 one night, a bar/nightclub closed for the evening and there was what could only be described as a stampede of around 150 drunk college kids staggering in my direction. I momentarily thought he zombie apocalypse had come, but then I saw one hold his drink in the air and yell "WOOOOOO!!" and I realized that I was facing an entirely different type of zombie horde.

I got to go to see a different free live music nearly every night with EC and Annie, occasionally joined by an Irish buddy named Gar (rhymes with "dare"). Monday we went to a traditional tunes session, which usually includes about 4-5 people and takes over a corner of a place called the Crane Bar. The night we were there, however, it took up half the room and included about a dozen musicians (including five flutes! FIVE!) Wednesday we saw a mandolin/guitar duo who played a mix of modern acoustic covers, with a few Irish tunes thrown in. They played a couple Tom Waits songs, much to Gar's delight, but we were more or less the only people listening. The music was occasionally drowned out by a group of loud college rugby players in the back corner of the room. Apparently, they'd won a match and were celebrating. The final night in Galway we saw a great blues band whose singer and lead guitarist could have passed for Derek Trucks, both in appearance and talent.

Wednesday night while on our search for music, EC, Gar and I ran into an older guy with an awesome moustache. Gar knew him from some previous encounters, and he hung out with us for the evening. His name was Michael, and he was a self-described poet, though it doesn't seem like he considers that his full-time job (how many do?). Generally jovial person, and we got some banter going. He joked that the weather turned sour as soon as I showed up. I pointed out that one of the days had been beautiful with an awesome rainbow, and he asked me if I could work on doing that again. I told him that rainbows are expensive, and I can't just go dropping rainbows every other day; they're an investment saved only for special occasions. He laughed. It wasn't the most substantial conversation of the week, but he was a nice guy, and I wish him the best.

A while after Michael joined us, a girl named Maria followed suit. She's been helping Michael type up his poetry. I'm not clear on how they met or what the connection was, but I'm glad she joined the conversation. She's originally from Argentina, but had been living in Ireland for a few years. We talked at length about Peace Studies, and how I should really go to Argentina, where there are hundreds of human rights groups, labor groups, etc.. I told her I'm open to pretty much anything once I'm done with college, but I'd definitely want a plan, because randomly showing up to help may not be helpful at all. Maria told me that getting there would be easy. There are lots of jobs available on ships, and as a result, I could go to Argentina for free. Admittedly, that wasn't what I meant when I said "a plan" (I'm not worried about how to GET to Argentina), but that's cool to know, and one of many possibilities for the future. I am aware, however, that there is a big difference between working on a ship and "let's all sing another sea shanty with the folks dressed up as pirates."

On Friday, EC, Annie and I boarded a bus to Belfast for the weekend. On the trip, and old woman came over completely out of the blue and talked to me for the last 90 minutes of our 6 hour bus ride. This woman basically told me her life story, mostly about all the places she had gone in Europe to do various charity and social action work. I could tell when she started that she needed to talk to me a lot more than I needed to do my fourth crossword puzzle of the day, so I put it down and listened. In retrospect, it was exactly what I needed too. I didn't really have the energy to put into a conversation, but I was getting bored, and she turned the trip into storytime.

She mostly talked about the work she had done, which included helping children in war-torn areas and raising money for the wheelchair-bound. She may not have spent every moment of her life helping others, it was certainly the only thing she talked about. It could easily have been seen as bragging, and one of my travelling companions suggested later that she might have been making parts of it up. I wouldn't completely rule it out; it's certainly possible, and I'm not going out of my way to verify her story. It's more or less irrelevant to me, though. The important thing about the conversation was that the story she told was completely attainable. It seemed so simple when she was talking. There's no reason I can't just spend my life travelling around and helping people. I just have to do it. So simple. I know where to go, I know who needs help, I know how to help them. The only thing stopping me is my own head. I guess I get afraid of commitment, like I might devote too much to one cause and somehow get "stuck" or "roped in." Then again, my alternative usually involves video games. So... what's worse, really?

So, that was a nice realization. I'm not sure what it is about me that attracts conversation from people over 60 (a scent, perhaps?) but they have all been either interesting or amusing, so I'm okay with it. Speaking of which, I've got a story about an old drunk guy from Cork that I skipped earlier, but let's call this a spoiler for the next post. Our conversation included the phrase "it's nice to be nice," which I think lands somewhere between "zen" and "drunk" from a linguistic perspective.