I thought we’d be driving to catch the train to London. From there, the plan was to take the EuroStar to Paris. But Annabelle had plans of her own. The night before, she told me we wouldn’t be going to France. I was miffed, to say the least. Most annoying was that she wouldn’t tell me why. “Trust me, okay?” she said.
The light clicked on in the early morning. Annabelle set a cup of tea on the bedside table. Before long we were on the road to the train station, I guessed, to visit her brother in Manchester. She told me to find the paper bag in her backpack. Inside was a city map to Dublin. She was taking me to Ireland. On the sly, with my birthday within a half-month’s view, she had bought plane tickets and booked a couple beds in a downtown Dublin hostel. I forgot about Paris.
I loved the city, the people, the beer. I loved Annabelle for surprising me with a visit to the country top on my list—for running all over town with me, seeing the sights, learning Celtic history, shopping, praying during Evensong at St. Patrick’s Cathedral, collapsing in exhaustion under ancient trees at Trinity College. And I love her for taking me to see “Once,” a new film by John Carney, last night. Set in Dublin, it was a charming and artful reminder of that trip we shared, and the special place the city holds in our own story.
The film stars Glen Hansard (lead singer of The Frames) and Markéta Irglová—both are untrained actors but still manage to deliver performances more honest than I’ve seen in any blockbuster release in recent memory.
“Once” is a musical in the best sense—free of silly, non-sequitur dance routines, sung dialogue and stage-like dramatics. It’s a singer-songwriter’s musical, the songs performed as they would be in a café or bar, telling stories like only good songs can, and paired with dialogue both winsome and true. Everything ends up in its right place by the finish without feeling contrived. The whole thing had me ready to fly to Ireland, or sit down and write songs through the morning, or both.
But I’m biased, of course. I’ve been listening to the music Hansard, on a break from his band, and Irglová make off-screen. They released a record together last year under the name “The Swell Season.” I found it early in January and loved it at once. And Carney did a wonderful job weaving the songs into the story.
Rather than try to recapitulate here what I perceive to be the ineffable, transcendent quality of notes and lyrics woven together, have a listen for yourself. You can hear The Swell Season perform live at NPR.com, or hear a few tracks from the album here.
Five years ago I moved to the South. And though I’ve lived here for half a decade already, my understanding of the region and its culture haven’t deepened much. So, this summer, I have decided to immerse myself in southern culture–meet the people, eat the food, dance to the music, learn the plant names, partake in the pastimes, read the literature, etc.–as much as I am able. My hope is to compile a list of possible experiences I might have that would give me a comprehensive experience of the South without playing to stereotype or caricature. In my mind, this summer must include a range of experience from the rural life of farmers to the lifestyle of the so-called old money aristocracy. I plan to record my experiences and thoughts, together with photos, and produce a meaningful essay or memoir of some kind.