Wondering why I’m listening to Cotton Eyed-joe in a cafe in Galway…it’s a pretty strange experience! I remember dancing to this song when I was young, people being raucous and rowdy and lots of movement all round. Here, there’s none o’ that. Lots of chatter in Irish voices except the one beside me who’s also on his phone, reading news or about his favorite sports teams. This is not a new experience for me. Except that everyone has a different accent to mine. D is never talkative off the clock unless we’re at the bar with other people. And I’m always wishing he were. But it’s ok here, his silent way is helpful for my observing nature.
I see so many people who look just like they could be at home in San Francisco too. But they’re here, at home or visiting, in Galway, Ireland.
There’s a lady with a big, fluffy black coat, beanie and sunglasses across the room from us, sipping her drink, some espresso no doubt; I can’t tell if she’s old or young she’s so covered by her trappings.
There are students on their laptops, studying or playing around. And ladies yapping over their coffees. And I’m just an American in Galway…haven’t seen anything but this cafe and the train station. The few pubs surrounding it are of course, as you’d expect, plentiful. But they serve food, people don’t drink like you’d think here in Ireland. I think it’s only the young people who party much and usually in foreign places like America, when they’re visiting on J1 visas.
We’ve come to see the town and yet we’re sitting in this quaint cafe, listening to the full version of The Prince Of Bell Air…
I really just want to learn about wine, but I can’t do that if I’m not drinking it with at least a little bit of frequency. My local bars don’t serve the best cuvees, but I have access to all the restaurants, wine bars, etc a girl could desire. Not to mention, all the wine stores, like Blackwell’s down the street from my home. San Francisco practically spoils me with the plethora of options and I need to take advantage.
It may be time for me to drop whiskey and Magner’s–my favorite cider–in favor of oenology. Drinking the same shit every day, just because it’s deemed “cool” and masculine is pretty lame. But I do it, even though I barely like whiskey. For some reason, people are impressed when a “little” girl like me can knock back a full shot, no chaser. Country songs have popularized the consumption of whiskey and tequila. And hip-hop and rap have popularized Chandon and other fancy drinks.
It’s utterly confusing when you have no idea what is going on with wine. I don’t know anything, except that I don’t like the tannic quality of Cabernet and that I do like Pinot Noir and Rose. I’m getting used to the flavors of a few different white wines as well, but I don’t know which ones I like, yet. Part of my problem is that the minutiae are a little lost on me. I used to think I was pretty good at recognizing different flavors and scents. Apparently, I’ve lost that talent… Or never had it in the first place. I know it’s a build-able aspect in my repertoire. Especially since I’m in love with a bartender and I work with some of the most knowledgeable winos in the business. Oh wait, I also harbor an affection for wine, same as most people who drink.
(I want these socks!)