Islands of Song

Islands of Song 3

While we waited for the drinks, a perfect stranger came up to me and struck up a conversation. She was pleasantly drunk but picked up immediately that I was not a local. She had come down from Dublin to celebrate with friends. When I told her I was from Philadelphia, she screamed (it was the only way to be heard at the noisy bar) and proceeded to entertain me with the entire theme song to the Prince of Bel Air! I thought it was hilarious that the only thing she knew about Philadelphia was that it was the birthplace of Will Smith. I like Will Smith too, so we were able to have a small loud conversation about him. We battled our way over to the corner table under the steps and commandeered a few chairs from other places. Val from the festival was there and invited the musicians to come with her to her house the next day so they could see a bit of the countryside. She lives in Ballycotton, a seaside town a bit southeast of Cork. Without a car here, it's the only way I'm going to get to see anywhere, so I was excited.

Val was very friendly and I found it easy to talk with her. Soon, Jim was finished his beer and wanting to go in search of a Smithwick's. Val drew a little map for us to follow to get to the Tiki. Despite the completeness of the map, traveling through Cork City at midnight, winding through dark unfamiliar streets was a task we were not up to. By the time we found the Tiki it had closed. Finding a cab to take us back to the hotel was equally futile. It seemed like a long way back but we finally began to recognize the streets. We stopped to get a bite to eat and brought the goodies back to the hotel room to eat. No one was hanging in the lounge. I was a bit disappointed since Jim had told me about the sessions that had taken place there the previous nights, but it was for the best. I had been up for about 40 hours with 2 hours sleep. Off to bed after saying goodnight to Jim and Lillian and thanking them for inviting us. I was so glad we came!

We awoke early Friday morning and had a not-so-hot breakfast at the hotel restaurant, deciding that Irish breakfasts are not for us. After we ate, we went for a walk by the river. There was a tall ship docked at the Michael Collins bridge. Her name is the Jeanie Johnston and Vic already knew about her. Last year, a Coast Guard auxiliarist had gone on a North American voyage with her. While taking photos on the bridge, we were approached by a man who introduced himself as Leo O'Sullivan. A local man, he asked Vic what you call the figure on the front of the sailing vessel. A figurehead, Vic told him. We had a pleasant conversation with Leo. He welcomed us to Cork and apologized for the gray weather. "No worries," I told him, "It's far warmer than it is at home."

She was built as a replica of a boat that was used to take Irish immigrants to the New World during the Irish Famine years. She made many voyages and never lost a passenger or crew member, which was no mean feat in those days. The voyages generally lasted about 50 days and the accommodations were...shall we say, cozy. With 5 to a bunk, we might expect quite a few birth 7 months later, huh?

The account of her Ireland to US and Canada voyage is here.

And the official Jeanie Johnston website is here

And here is a nice tour of her while she was in the port of Philadelphia in 2003.

Little did we realize when we flew to Cork, that we'd meet the Jeanie Johnston in person. I wish we had been able to go back and tour her. Maybe next time.

On the way to and from the river Lee, we passed by these fine puppies at the Cork SPCA. What you don't see, is the little Jack Russell Terrier who was literally jumping up and down for our attention while we were taking this shot. He reminded me of the obsessive-compulsive dog in the modern Doctor Doolittle.I petted the ones I could and tried not to think about them too much. If this were home, I'd be walking out with one, I suppose.

As we walked back to the Clarion, we met Paul, one of the Belfast clowns, who was dressing to go perform. He did this several times a day every day we were there. Moray had arranged for many different kinds of street performers for the week and was busy each day, checking to see they were where they needed to be. It was nice to see performers from the Northern Ireland (Belfast) coming down to delight the crowds.

The lobby was an interesting place to hang out watching the various clowns coming down in their dress and their "street clothes." The dead guy passed thru the lobby many times a day, each time coughing into his hand and blowing out "ashes." The flamenco dancer clowns floated out frequently but I never caught their performance. Dolly Parton and her manager were hilarious, complete with the required southern accents. And it was funny to see Jim's reaction toward sharing a light with someone who was a good 5 feet taller than he outside the hotel door.

When Vic and I got back to the hotel room, I gave Jim and Lillian a ring to see what the plans were. Lillian had to run some errands on the South Mall road and I was more than ready to accompany her. We happily strolled and chatted, walking on the river road, enjoying the Spring weather and each others' company. I swear the four of us must have been related in a former life. It just feels like we've been friends forever, even though it's only been 4 years. We have way too many common interests for this to be an accident. I'm with Jim here - he doesn't believe in coincidences. I don't think our friendship is a coincidence. Must have been kismet.

The acrobats were fantastic, entertaining on Patrick Street. At the peak of their performance my camera's batteries died, so I am very sorry that you don't get to appreciate the marvelous performance.

Lillian and I continued our walk, happily chatting until we pulled up short. Right there in front of us were three army soldiers, machine guns drawn, looking quite menacing at the corner of the street. Our conversation stopped right there. "Holy shit," was the only comment that passed between us for a while as we walked along. Although we were shaken, no one else on the street appeared to be. A sad fact of life here, I guess. We'd muse on it all day though. Trust me.

I quickly snuck a photo, not knowing whether I was going to get into trouble or not. But no one noticed or they didn't care, so we walked on to the English Market.

At first, we passed right by the market entrance. Asking directions, we found our way back up the street and entered another world. It was like an outdoor market inside. Fish, meats, fruits and vegetables, nuts, olives, chocolates and candies, t-shirts, bakery goods and a cafe could all be found in this wonderfully hidden place. There was even a fountain in the courtyard! I felt like it was a scene from My Fair Lady or something. It seemed so Old World, so obvious I was not in Philadelphia anymore. For Pete's sake! The church was built in the 600's!

That reminds me of a joke Vic tells - What's the difference between The USA and Europe? In the USA, 100 years is old, in Europe 100 miles is far.

While Lillian went shopping for lunchmeat and stuff, I was enthralled by the cafe. It wrapped itself around the courtyard on the second floor. It was like South Street in the 50's when it was beatnik headquarters. Someone was at a mic in the cafe, reading poetry and another lined up to tell stories. It was fascinating and I enjoyed every minute there. Plus Lillian got to shop for olives at a store where there must have been 30 varieties of olives to choose from.

On the way back, we stopped at a bagel shop for sandwiches. I had to laugh - LA Bagels was the name of the store. Come all the way to Ireland for American food. They sure were good though. And we all enjoyed them.

At the hotel, I waited for Val's call. We were supposed to leave for Ballycotton between 1 and 2 PM. I waited in vain for her call. I called several places trying to get in touch with her. Eventually we noticed a blinking light on the phone - a message. No voice mail showed up so we called the desk to see if there had been any messages for us while we were out sightseeing. "Did you look on the TV?" asked the person at the desk. TV? Messages? I had no idea what she was talking about. We hadn't even looked at the TV yet. Well, lo and behold! You could do all sorts of things using the television! They even had a keyboard that you could use to get on the Internet! (Lillian would warn us later that it took AGES to get anywhere on the Net.) Finally figuring out how to collect the message, we were disappointed to find out Val had to cancel the trip. Turns out she had gotten involved in stuff for the festival and didn't have time to go home and back again. I resigned myself to taking a nap. No argument from myself there! I really needed the sleep. And it would come in handy for the late night to come.

We left with Jim and Lillian in the taxi to go to the Triskel to see what promised to be a superb night of music. Ron Hynes was scheduled to perform with Hugh Scott and Ger Wolfe. I didn't know anything about Ger but I knew Ron's and Hugh's music to be some of the best I'd heard in Newfoundland and environs. I'd add Ger's music to that comment before the night was over.

Hugh Scott opened the night's festivities with "Two Friends." It was almost like he picked my brain about our friendship with Jim and Lillian. Wow. Powerful thought. I enjoyed that so much. The evening of music worked differently than the previous night. Instead of each artist doing 2 songs alone, then each one with the band, then all together, Hugh sang all his songs in one fell swoop.

"Peter Caravan" came next. I had heard him do it at Erin's in St. John's, I think, one late evening last summer with Jim. He explained it as a Newfoundland song, about being free from the pressmen. He sang about the Southern Shore and about the Butterpot. I have been both places - definitely Newfoundland related. Hugh's guitar skills were superb in the song too.

Bellevue Bonfire was written "about a time with the guitar." I love the way Newfoundlanders put things!

The "lovely and talented Rory" accompanied him on piano.

Then I got a surprise. Hugh played "Between the Jigs and Reels!" I had heard this on a compilation album a few years ago. I didn't realize it was his song! It's a great song about a musician being home between gigs. "Save me a dance on this Saturday night somewhere between the jigs and the reels." Later in the evening I heard most of the musicians present tell him they really identified with that song.

He saved the best for last with "Theresa Maria." Hugh used to work for the Chandler's Office in St. John's and spent his time delivering stuff to fishing boats in St. John's Harbour. He said he didn't envy their going out in the North Atlantic in February. The Theresa Maria was one of those that went out into a storm one day. "Trust in the hands there to guide you, I've faith in the Captain and you." That one was for Vic, Hugh just didn't know it. But as Jim says, there are no coincidences.