{"id":890,"date":"2019-03-27T03:19:35","date_gmt":"2019-03-27T03:19:35","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.sportsnewsforyou.com\/?p=890"},"modified":"2019-03-27T03:19:35","modified_gmt":"2019-03-27T03:19:35","slug":"lost-in-kinsale","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/googmn.com\/?p=890","title":{"rendered":"Lost in Kinsale"},"content":{"rendered":"

A<\/span>nd why shouldn\u2019t I go to Kinsale? says Jan as we cross over the River Liffey for the third, maybe the fourth time, muddling our way out of Dublin in our wee rental car. What occurred there was years ago, says she.<\/p>\n

I don\u2019t ever think about it.<\/p>\n

I\u2019m just saying we don\u2019t have to go there, says I. We could go to Cork. Or Galway.<\/p>\n

Worst idea I\u2019ve ever had, this side trip to Kinsale. A lovely week in Dublin, getting things between us back on track, and then this idjit\u2013me\u2013suggests renting a car and driving down to Kinsale. You\u2019ll love it, says I. Very romantic. Gawd, what an arse.<\/p>\n

Watch the road now! yells Jan. You\u2019re crossing the line again!<\/p>\n

I will yeah, thanks, says I sarcastically.<\/p>\n

Silence the rest of the way.<\/p>\n

We pull into Kinsale five hours later, eventually find our hotel, and, though worn out, decide before dinner to go for a walk just to get out of the room. It\u2019s a fine summer evening. Calm, brisk, moist. Seagulls swoop through a pale blue sky. Children play along the low wall of the harbor. An older gent sitting in a sunken lawn chair on the bow of his decrepit sailboat sips a whiskey. Red face, purple nose, threadbare sweater the color of new hay. Drinking by himself. Still. Not a half-bad life.<\/p>\n

I wouldn\u2019t mind doing something like that, I say, trying to make peace.<\/p>\n

Not with me, says Jan. I could never live on a boat. Everything damp, wet. Closed quarters.<\/p>\n

Anyway, the drink looks inviting, I say. Shall we find a bar before dinner? Jan shrugs.<\/p>\n

On the corner is a white building with a little mural of a waiter in black vest and bow tie carrying a glass of wine. Ap\u00e9ritif, says the sign. Pop in. Nice-looking place. But nobody here. What time is it, anyway? After five. When do they start drinking in Kinsale?<\/p>\n

The lone woman inside, standing behind the bar holding a glass of white wine, has the most shocking bright red hair I\u2019ve ever seen. The color of a candy apple. Pale, freckled skin. Maybe 40. Maybe 50. Never good at guessing women\u2019s ages. Twinkle in her green eyes.<\/p>\n

Do you serve wine by the glass? I ask.<\/p>\n

We\u2019d better; we\u2019re a wine bar, she says, laughing. Sticks her thin, pale hand out. Kate, she says. I run the place, although there\u2019s not much to run at the moment. Laughs at her own joke, takes a sip of wine.
\nWhat is it you\u2019re drinking? I ask her.<\/p>\n

Pinot gris. It\u2019s not much but it\u2019s all right. Fancy a glass?<\/p>\n

Why not.<\/p>\n

Kate grabs a bottle stuck in a tub of ice and gives us hefty pours.<\/p>\n

Awfully quiet in town, I say.<\/p>\n

It\u2019s a bit early, says Kate. Not for me, of course, she says, sipping her wine. Where are you from then?<\/p>\n

California, says Jan.<\/p>\n

I love California, says Kate. Palm Springs! Lived there for a year with husband No. 2. Or maybe it was No. 3. Doesn\u2019t matter, does it!<\/p>\n

This brings a smile to Jan\u2019s face. The three of us get to talking and suddenly Jan is telling stories about how I got us lost today just looking for our hotel in town, even though you could walk the whole thing from one end to the other in 10 minutes. Kate laughs and slaps the bar. Says, I don\u2019t believe you! Lost in Kinsale?<\/p>\n

It\u2019s true, it\u2019s true, says Jan and the two of them look at me and laugh, conspirators already. We finish our drinks and I ask for the bill. Kate grabs the bottle of wine from behind the bar and says, Let me just top this off a bit\u2013on the house. What are you doing in Kinsale, then?<\/p>\n

We came to Dublin to celebrate our anniversary, says Jan. Then this one decided we should come to Kinsale because he once met a girl here.<\/p>\n

No! says Kate. I don\u2019t believe you!<\/p>\n

It\u2019s true, says Jan. Kate makes a horrified face and shakes her head. Oh, I don\u2019t mind, says Jan. It\u2019s nothing to me.
\nI tell Jan we should probably be going. Kate puts a hand on top of Jan\u2019s arm and tops off both of our glasses again.
\nMore stories pass between Jan and Kate. More wine. An hour later I tell Kate we really do have to go or I\u2019ll never make it through dinner since I\u2019m already half-sozzled.<\/p>\n

Oh, that\u2019s a good one, isn\u2019t it? says Kate. Sozzled! Haven\u2019t heard that in ages! Listen, she says, giving Jan a long hug, if you haven\u2019t anything to do after dinner, there\u2019s a trad session at Daltons tonight. Good craic. You might even find me there.<\/p>\n

What\u2019s a trad session? asks Jan.<\/p>\n

Traditional Irish music. The real thing. Not something brought in for tourists. Good craic, she says again.<\/p>\n

Damn if I can understand how it is I keep getting us lost in a small town where I spent an entire summer. We walk up a hill over the harbor, neighbors sitting on their stoops smoking a fag or just enjoying the fine evening. I ask one old gent taking the air how to get to Max\u2019s restaurant. Down them stoney steps, he says. Pass that house there.<\/p>\n

I thought you knew this town? says Jan.<\/p>\n

I did then, says I. Now I\u2019m a bit lost.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

To find out how Jan and David’s evening in Kinsale ended, and to see more beautiful pictures from their trip to this small Irish village, pick up the May\/June 2014 issue of The Saturday Evening Post<\/em> on newsstands, or…<\/p>\n

Purchase the digital edition for your iPad, Nook, or Android tablet:\n<\/p>\n

To purchase a subscription to the print edition of The Saturday Evening Post<\/em>: <\/p><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

And why shouldn\u2019t I go to Kinsale? says Jan as we cross over the River Liffey for the third, maybe the fourth time, muddling our way out of Dublin in our wee rental car. What occurred there was years ago, says she. I don\u2019t ever think about it. I\u2019m just saying we don\u2019t have to…<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[3],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-890","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-news"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/googmn.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/890","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/googmn.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/googmn.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/googmn.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/googmn.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=890"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/googmn.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/890\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/googmn.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=890"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/googmn.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=890"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/googmn.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=890"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}