Cold, wet, miserable day. Gladly, we had planned a trip to the Museum of Country Life, out near the tiny townlet of Turlaugh. We got a bus form Ballina and in less than 30 minutes were at a lovely estate where they have constructed a rather nice little museum dedicated to, ta-da, country life in Ireland. Which did not change much until pretty recently, apparently. And was always pretty rough.
Schedules here are all written in military time, and due to a little misinterpretation of the bus departure time, we had an extra hour to while after we left the museum. We waited in the rain and hung out in a little express stop shop - the only thing in Turlaugh aside from newly built little miniaturized suburban estates. I got some marzipan. It is exceptionally cheap in Europe compared with the US, which I do not understand at all, but am always happy to remember when I am in Europe.
I noticed a paucity of art in the lives of common Ireland... there is some art in the textiles and of course music, dance, story-telling... but in terms of visual art, symbolic motifs, etc. I tend to associate certain motifs with Ireland - celtic art... but all that is something esoteric, carried out by ancient monks and not much to do with anyone's everyday life. Everyday life was always just about managing through the poverty. This was my thought theme for the afternoon.
Home again in the evening and I got in a mood to find out about some tango. There are quite a few groups in Ireland dancing tango - but none near here and all the workshops and festivals are in the wrong time/place combo for me. Alas. Might be Nora's Tango Week in the SF bay area for me in July if I can't get the bug out - I miss it desperately. Tango demands desperation, after all :)
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