You never know where Dem Bones will lead you. While I'll save the story of my trip to the butcher, I will share the story of our trip to the music shop. There are two music shops in town so we headed off to search for bones. No luck with bones but a most interesting afternoon evolved.
Asking for bones, as you might expect, stimulated lively discussion. The proprietor, Michael was there with his friend Bruce, both of whom got a kick out of my interest in the bones. They suggested wooden spoons, but "I have those at home," I declined. Laughing, they engaged us in chatting about where we were from and delighted, as everyone seems to, at our telling them we are living here for the year.
We stood talking in front of the fire, the stove door open to the red hot coals. Perfect for the raw, wet, windy day. The cat sprawled out on the arm chair napping while soothing Irish tunes played softly provided a perfect backdrop to our talks. "How do you feel about whiskey" Michael asked Christine while I chatted with Bruce about writing. Of course hearing the question my head snapped up and I turned toward the Christine and Michael. You can imagine Christine's response, one of sarcasm and suggestion that of course she likes whiskey. "And you," he asked me? The look on my face clearly answered the question and he handed us each two little shot glasses shaped like tiny oak barrels. Reaching up to a shelf housing tippers, tin whistles, and the like he pulled down a glass bottle and poured a shot into our barrels. "It's moonshine, made by a 90 year old man. It's the best. Drink it right down and tell me what you think," he instructed. We joked a minute about not taking such a risk at home by drinking some strange brew offered by strangers, but when in Rome...Down the hatch. "Ooh. That's good stuff" we said in unison. It was too-very smooth and warm. The perfect addition to our visit.
We stood laughing and talking, Bruce offering to take us around sometime since we have no car, and Michael telling me about the Bodhrans, as I plan to purchase a new one. And before you know it a group of musicians from Michigan sauntered in. Suddenly, Michael had his accordian and one of the musicians had her Bodhran and everything came alive, well, except for the cat by the fire.
Out from behind a curtain appeared Dara, Michael's son-who it turns out is a tour guide for Rick Steves. We got to talking as is the way, and he offered to take us around the peninsula and give us a tour. Incredible.
What an interesting time it was for us at the music shop that day. We continue to encounter the most engaging people-all of whom have interesting stories and are thrilled to hear of ours. Everyone we have met seems genuinely excited for our year here and has offered suggestions, help, and encouragement. We have been blessed since the inception of this plan of ours.
A wonderful afternoon at the music shop--you just never know what might happen when you go in search of bones...