Rising Craicometer

Now, when I said that Westport seemed a little sleepy in the off-peak season, you didn't think I was including the pubs in that statement, did you? Shame. Matt Molloy's (the one owned by a member of the Chieftans, one of the biggest traditional Irish bands) was packed Saturday night, shoulder to shoulder, everyone trying to be in earshot of the lively music. After squeezing into a spot to stand, I wondered how this place would look in the summer when there actually were a lot of people in the area. The music was first rate. In between sets, a woman in the crowd would sing songs of her own. It was amazing to hear everyone grow almost dead silent, at the urgings of the other musicians, as she sang her acapella tunes, before the band would break back into a lively jig and the conversations would resume. Eventually, Ellen and I found ourselves at a table with three thirty-something Irish men, out in Westport on a holiday celebrating the impending marriage of one of them. Well, maybe they didn't actually see much of Westport, because by the time we got there at about 10:30pm, they had already been in the pub since 1:30 that afternoon. Our conversation was not only interesting, but shockingly coherent for three guys who had spent the better part of the day hanging out with Arthur Guinness. We talked politics, the decline of old Irish life in the face of new European life, sports, their uncanny aversion to the Jesuits, and even Part of the pub culture in Ireland is the system of rounds, where everyone takes turns buying drinks for the group. They wanted Ellen and I to get in on it, but sensing that we were about 15 Guinni behind and knowing we had an early day ahead of us, we tried our best to avoid taking part. I may have stumbled upon one of the many hidden secrets of the craic that night, however. At one point, I glanced up and realized that the musicians were gone. I asked how long they had been gone, and someone in our group told me they packed up and left over an hour ago. The musicians worked me into such a musical frenzy of enjoyment that it drifted me off into conversation and carried me onward for the better part of an hour. I think that's why real Irish pubs don't have TVs or stereos; either would distract you from the conversation. I'm starting to get the hang of this.