Driving around Galway is easy until you actually arrive in Galway, when it becomes very very hard. So it’s a good thing that after our Aran daytrip we didn’t feel the need to go anywhere for a while. Like a lot of college towns, Galway is good for long hours of hanging out doing nothing significant, and that’s what we did. We strolled around and sat and ate and went to Charlie Byrne’s bookstore and strolled some more. Very occasionally I took a picture.
Also like a lot of college towns, Galway is well stocked with garbage, particularly in its waterways. The swans (which the town has like some places have pigeons) probably appreciate this, although I don’t know if they have any use for Carlsberg cans. I especially admired a giant rubbish-mound on the docks; it was unclear whether the trash was being gathered and deposited here for shipment elsewhere, or if it would later be scattered along the Corrib for the enjoyment of passersby.
All the strolling and eating and bookstore-going was good, but Galway is also known for its cultural events, and on our last night in town we felt like we should probably do something that seemed more like something. So we picked a convenient event in the Cúirt litfest, the play Grenades. Actually, I think it was me who picked it. I believe my thought process was something like “the theater is within walking distance and it says in the program that the heroine likes the Undertones, and I used to like them, so, sure, let’s go.” Unfortunately, I failed to fully consider that the play was (a) critically acclaimed, (b) intended to Make a Statement about the Troubles, and (c) told from the point of view of a tragic yet sassy adolescent girl. The combination of these factors pretty much guaranteed that we would hate it. Plus, the heroine wasn’t even a real fan of the Undertones, she was just copying her martyred older brother. So much for teenage kicks.