LoV-Write

Rocky Road to Dublin: Post III

Dear You,

It was a Thursday night -in Dingle- and we had just finished drinking wine with a fellow named Wally and his buddy Peanut.

By “we” I mean myself and one other, who I’ll call Cyprus Rotor, had shared two bottles of wine in the course of three hours. Our first bottle was an Australian white called “Wally’s Hut”, and the second was a Pinot Grigio. I forget the brand. Hence: Wally and Peanut. When we had finished the second bottle, we walked back to the main street -we had been sitting on the shore along the marina- to a pub called “The Court House”.

We had been to the Court House the night before, and there we had met some locals as well as a fellow traveler. The locals were lovely. One, a young woman who sang and played guitar, was simply captivating. She sang and spoke with a wonderful confidence which is hard to explain. What I found most pleasing is that she sung “I Hope That I Don’t Fall in Love With You” by Tom Waits.

The other local, a manager at the Grapevine Hostel, was a charming man. He played classical guitar and listened to the Beatles. He also knew “Romance” by Juanillo d’Alba and the song “I’m My Own Grandpa”. Essentially, both of these locals had a similar taste in non-current music that Cyprus and I also had.

The fellow traveler was different. He was a lad of 18, long dark hair and Californian with pleasent features and an endearing honesty. It was strange for me, in talking to him, to recognize a fellow spirit. This Californian had had an incredible journey of injury and sequences* which lead to our meeting and my giving him a copy of my book which, I hoped, would have something to say to him.

This was a fine evening, and both Cyprus and I stayed up far too late speaking with these people. She went off with Grapevine manager, and I went to a different pub with California and Singer. Though I could go into the minute details of this evening, the point is less the conversation and more the drink that I discovered while I was there:

It was Dingle Gin, and, like the people of that evening, I had taken only a short sample of its flavour and character. It is a beverage, however, (and they are people) who will linger for many years to come in my memories of Ireland.

*Sequences is an idea I’ve taken from the work of Patrick F. McManus.

 

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