The Met in Cork City & Singing at Pascal O’Brien’s:

Ireland is a place of music and wonder.

I went to the Metropolitan Opera in Cork City a couple of weeks ago, having become a shameless Opera junkie courtesy of The Met’s HD satellite broadcasts.  If you haven’t seen The Met in HD you should give it a try. It may change your attitude toward grand opera. There is a magical, infectious energy to live performance which the high technology of the Met manages to capture and broadcast worldwide by satellite.  If you’re new to opera, see a Mozart or anything Italian, buy some popcorn, and take Kleenex.  They’re mostly heartbreakers.  We saw Das Rheingold starring Bryn Terfel, the Welsh baritone, as Wotan, the henpecked King of the Gods.  My friend Lisa, also Welsh, joined me and we had a smashing good time,  Lisa harmonizing with the Rheine maidens in the opening scenes.  There’s something a little unglued about opera at a movie theater; Lisa plugged right into the spirit of the event with all the legendary enthusiasm of the Welsh Gael.  Opera isn’t church.  It’s living theater!

Later that night we wound up at Pascal O’Brien’s pub in Rosscarbery.  There was live traditional music, Guinness on tap, and great conversation.  Irish Trad incorporates American music which, like me, has come home from the sea; everyone can sing along one way or another. I did.  My friends, Copper Frank and bachelor Paddy O’ (aged > 80) were also there so we had good crack between sets.   Paddy’s motto is “Viagra and Brandy,” God love him.  He kept busy chatting up the ladies at the next table.  I worry that Paddy will blow a gasket, but he soldiers on, mad as a fish for the touch of a woman.

As the weather has cycled through fall toward winter I find myself more occupied with indoor life, cleaning and tuning Ms. Raleigh, cooking, and practicing Yoga.  I’ve been reading Autobiography of a Yogi by Paramahansa Yogananda, founder of The Self-Realization Fellowship which popularized Yoga in California in the 1920s.  They used to have a mushroom burger stand on old Highway 1 at their ashram in Encinitas.  I never had the courage to stop and try one; was afraid that the strange people in robes and sandals would embarrass me by proselytizing over the counter.  If only I’d been so lucky so long ago! 

I volunteer two days a week at The Children’s Project, a charity store in Clonakilty which features well cataloged used books and an ocean of recycled toys.  Parents and grandparents bring their young charges into a wonderland of unpackaged toys which they may touch and take home for a few pennies.  A surprising number of people patronize the bookstore and return the books for resale later.  Since we’re all volunteers, after the rent everything goes to children’s charities.  I sometimes play my pennywhistle for the little ones who, bless them, are an appreciative audience for my puny, stumbling efforts.

Life is grand in West Cork.