Reaching the main road it is a short trip to Ennis. Arriving in the city limits we find a B&B and head into town on foot.
It was a fairy tale town. The intimate old shops line the streets in a colorful display of the best in food, crafts and pubs. It had the feel of a medieval town under the shadow of the 13th century friary. The narrow and twisted streets snaked their way towards the town center where a music festival was winding down for the evening. The luck of the Irish! We had arrived during the most famous and best musical festival of traditional music, the Fleadh Nua. People were everywhere, spilling onto the small tunnel passageways that linked the narrow one way streets. It was a celebration that involved dancing, drinking and making merry!
We immediately found a pub to stumble into. We were squeezed into places at the bar and immediately made to feel part of the celebration. Ten or so musicians, ending their day together sat around a long table making music. I could not believe our good fortune. The musicians would finish one song and begin another. They would sit and drink and be quite for a moment and then one of them would pick up their instrument and begin anew. The rest falling in or just listening.
It was traditional and at times so sad I felt tears falling down my cheeks.
Then it would change and become a foot stomping ruckus free for all with the whole pub taking part with singing the lyrics.
Not knowing the words did not keep me from singing that night.
The pub was called Brogans. The town was called Ennis. The music was called mystical.