Evergreen and Burnt Orange

Last night, the whole group (minus Gennaveve who was ill) went up to Ennistymon for a night of poetry reading at the local art gallery where Davy's sister works. We thought it started at 7pm, but it turns out the start time was 9pm. No worries, though, we were able to amuse ourselves in the cute town. One particularly memorable moment from last night was the spontaneous chocolate rush experienced by all and the subsequent shopping trip. After pooling all our random change (of which we had a lot because no one is quite confident with it yet. They all look the same and range from 1 penny to 2 euros), we proceeded to tackle the candy aisle in a slightly dignified manner. We must have tried about 8 different chocolate bars. Everyone else raved about how good the chocolate is here because they aren't allowed to use cocoa powder over here, but I am not yet convinced. Perhaps if I rolled the candy bars in sugar and then dumped them in dark chocolate? We thought we were trying Irish chocolate, but that was a fail. A woman (who works for Willy Davy the match-maker) outside a pub informed us all the chocolate we were holding was English. But, she did tell us about a homemade chocolate shop in Doolin, so we have decided to make a pilgrimage at a later date.

As soon as I stepped into the venue (The Courthouse) for the poetry reading I felt as if I had walked into Evergreen (Colorado). It completely bamboozeled my mind. I kept waiting for Monica and Stephen to walk around the door. I was completely surprised to find this little enclave of hippy-artist types (with a strange obsession for Dolly Parton) in the middle of the Irish countryside. The night was going well until this one act. Now people who know me know there is one color that just seems to haunt my life. A man with a guitar got up to play and when he originally started he was wearing a sweatshirt. As his nerves kicked in, the sweatshirt was unzipped and THAT color peeked out. Of course, my first reaction was "No way.This is Ireland. Not possible. Just a coincidence. It could not have possibly followed me." Naturally, I have ceased paying attention at this point and am completely consumed by his shirt. As he continues playing, I see the unmistakable squiggle of a white horn peek out over the body of his guitar. At this point the world ceases to turn and all I can say is, "You've got to be kidding me? I have come all this way and still the eyes of Texas are following me?" Sure enough, the man stands up for applause (I assume he deserved it, but, again, I had stopped listening.) and I see the horror staring back at me - a burnt orange shirt emblazoned with the white Texas Longhorns logo. Odd, though, it was nice to see a bit of home and family halfway across the world. It sure did give Taylor and I a laugh.

Well, I am off to comb the tide pools and perhaps pick blackberries (very serious research here). Tonight we are going into Ennis for a traditional music and dance concert at the Glor. I'll let you know how it goes. PS