St. Patrick’s Day in Ireland

March means St. Patrick’s Day, and all this month I am celebrating my love affair with Ireland.

In 2017, I experienced my first St. Patrick’s Day in Ireland. It was my second visit to the Emerald Isle, a three-week book research trip for my Irish Noir crime novel.

I had originally planned this trip for February. At the time, I was working in the tourism industry, and February was a popular time to take leave, desperate for a break after two months of constant crowds and chaos over the Christmas school holidays. I thought my chances of being approved for three and a half weeks off would be better if I waited until March, after the return of my fatigued colleagues. It wasn’t until I was watching the film Boondock Saints that I realised I would be in Ireland for St. Patrick’s Day.

Small village festivities appealed to me much more than a big city celebration. I was staying for a week in Kinvara, a small seaport village thirty minutes’ drive from Galway City. There was to be a parade in the main street at 1pm. It couldn’t have been a more Irish day, with whipping winds and cold misty rain, but the conditions did not stop the locals of Kinvara coming out to celebrate their national day.

Crowds gathering along Main Street in preparation for the St. Patrick’s Day Parade

As 1pm approached, crowds gathered along the sides of Main Street, wearing ginger wigs and costume beards and oversized green top hats. A little boy standing beside me was struggling to keep a hold on the plastic handle of his small Irish flag.

Trucks and tractors queued at the top of Main Street, and the parade jolted into motion just after 1pm. Farmers had decorated their tractors with green, orange and white balloons. A musical band of children and adults played the saxophone, clarinet, fiddle and accordion. The local junior football team skilfully dribbled their balls along the street. There was a very cute little garda marching along, keeping everyone in check!

My small digital camera felt unusually light as I took it out of my pocket. My stomach dropped at the sight of the empty battery compartment–I had left the battery in the charger at home. I had also charged my phone that morning, but despite having 80% battery, it died on the spot when I opened the camera app. The luck of the Irish was not with me that morning!

As the parade approached, I quickly contemplated what to do. My Airbnb was just around the corner– I could make a run for it and be back in time to catch the end of the parade. Or I could just savour the moment and commit the images to memory. In a split second of impulse, I took off running and was back on Main Street in time to catch the last half of the procession. Lucky for me, some of the trucks and tractors I had missed looped around the block, and I was able to take some pictures on their second lap.

The crowd followed the tail end of the parade down the hill to the pier. There was a cake stall along the way, and I just had to get myself a green cupcake!

The Pier Head Café and restaurant overlooking Kinvara Bay was packed full of people. I managed to find a seat at the end of the bar close to the fireplace and ordered a bowl of creamy seafood chowder with fresh brown bread. The Dublin vs Clare hurling final played on the TV behind the bar. Hurling is Europe’s oldest field game, brought to Ireland by the Celts at the end of the last ice age. I tried to follow the game and learn the rules. The room sporadically exploded with cries of victory; when they cheered, I cheered.