Visiting Kilkenny: Sean-Nós Singing And On

“There are very, very few comforts in mortality. But one is that songs will outlast us.” -Old Sean

Clear Days Visiting Kilkenny

After spending a day hiking through the WIcklow Mountains, I caught a bus which swung through Dublin, ultimately heading to the town of Kilkenny.

When I was still living in Asia, all the cities I came across were massive urban sprawls with hoards of people. While there were some exceptions, I generally ended up in areas with crowds.

Ireland trends towards the exact opposite. Even the larger cities are somewhat spaced out with only a few dozen people walking around each block.

For me, this was a huge relief. I enjoyed the freedom of space that came with Ireland. Kilkenny, when I arrived, only had a couple of people walking between tourist attractions and pubs. A few cars rolled down the road and even the densest part of the city was filled with small shops. It helped that the wide River Nore flowed calmly nearby, opening up further skies and giving the world another layer of calm.

Despite it being early morning, I was able to check into my hostel quickly. I dropped my backpack off at MacGabhainns Backpackers Hostel where I chatted idly with some other guests making breakfast.

It was a surprisingly diverse crowd which continuously wandered in and out of the small dining area. There was a lass and lad from Germany, a young Swiss ruin-enthusiast, a French-fluent musician from Canada, two dark Spaniards who grilled hash browns and a partridge in a pear tree.

After finishing my toast, I joined this small, loosely knit group as they walked around town.

Near the Castle

As mentioned before, Kilkenny isn’t big. The downtown area is filled with small three-story shops, stone houses and narrow lanes adding a hint of beauty to the entire setting.

The main, literally unmissable feature while visiting Kilkenny is Kilkenny Castle. The enormous grey stone fortifications and massive Kilkenny Castle Park take up more space than the actual town center. The castle is impressive, but I didn’t have a ticket booked, so I wasn’t allowed inside. I did have some time to rest in the Castle Park, however, before looking for a late lunch in town.

I eventually ended up eating and chatting with my hostel compatriots at the Market Cross Shopping Centre, which happens to have an impressive number of multi-colored umbrellas hanging above. For the rest of the day, I idly wandered through town, visited the small St. Mary’s Medieval Mile Museum and returned to the hostel early to watch a movie. Somebody brought a slightly greasy bag of incredibly delicious cheesy potatoes, so I turned into a sloth for the remainder of the afternoon.

Songs of the Isle

After my short rest, somebody at the hostel recommended we visit a pub in town called John Cleere. Without any stronger plans, I agreed to follow along as the sun was setting outside.

Inside the pub, I was treated to an amazing experience. Cleere’s Bar often doubles as a theater, specializing in traditional Irish music. The chairs and tables were pressed up against the wall and the lights were low and warm.

Over the next four hours, I finished slow pint after slow pint of revered beer as local performers strode to the front of the room, plying their truly excellent crafts.

There was poetry chanted in English and Gaelic, a fiddle player tilting as she strummed out a tune and excellent live songs, where everyone native to Ireland joined in.

A few people cleared the center of the room and began dancing, feet clomping madly on the ground while others clapped. I kept myself firmly planted in a chair, deathly allergic to the idea of performing my flailing moves.

But the best of all was the vocal music. Ireland has a traditional form of singing called Sean-Nós music, which just translates to “Old Fashioned Music.” The songs are done without instruments, the voices of singers moving like poured honey.

When the women sang, their tones dipped and lifted while listeners’ hands curled silently around cups. Not a person breathed or moved during those spellbinding sounds. That was doubly true when the older men took the stage, lingering tones preserved in that small bar for haunting clarity.

Then, almost too soon, the night was over. I downed the last trickle of beer from my mug (since it’d be criminal to waste) and then walked out as the pub was locked up.

The people from my hostel and I walked back into the night. We wandered along the River Nore slowly, eventually taking a long, slow loop around bridges until we reached our beds.

West on the Drought

After my time visiting Kilkenny, my break was officially over. I had taken some time off to pursue personal travel interests in the Wicklow Mountains and Kilkenny. But officially, I was due to head onwards to the city of Cork.

Currently, Ireland is locked in a drought. The normally rainy skies are surpassingly clear. And the small pools, bogs and lake shores have receded. The land has taken on a strangely clear tone, far different than the grey skies I’m so fond of seeing in photos.

Regardless, I’m off to Cork next, specifically to visit the famed Blarney Stone. The Stone is shrouded in a compelling folk legend, where those who kiss it gain wit and grander speaking powers. Hopefully, my eloquence in writing improves in the coming week.

So until then,

Best regards and excellent trails,

Old Sean

Written July 9th, 2018

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