Rose coloured glasses in a parallel universe

We've been here about three weeks now, and between a lifetime of painting and decorating, we have managed to get out and enjoy our new surroundings just a little.

In the first two weeks we were here, every time I opened my mouth and people heard my Australian accent, they would say 'oh, so are you here for the Fleadh?'  (for the uninitiated, this is pronounced 'Fla').  However, I did not hear another Australian accent among the 350 000 people who reportedly showed up to Sligo for the week long traditional music festival.  My mother visited for a week early in the piece, and hers is the last Australian accent I have heard (and, to be fair to her, she's never really been that ocker anyway).  If I was feeling homesick, I guess we could visit someone with a television around Home and Away time, but to tell you the truth, I quite like being different here.  

Back to the Fleadh.  One afternoon we ventured down to one of the pubs, where two girls from Connemara, aged about 10 and 12 were playing traditional Irish music together, on the violin, flute, concertina and tin whistle, while their parents sat way in the background, drinking Guinness and allowing their daughters to flourish.  A couple of English girls arrived with their parents, and asked if they could join them.  One of the English girls said 'do you know this one' and played an opening bar of a jig for the others. The Irish girls said no.  She played another bar of something else.  Nope.  Then a bar of a third tune; still no. I have to admit they all sounded absolutely identical to me, but on the fourth attempt, the Irish girls joined in and off they went with their merry tune, playing by ear for many minutes.  The skill of these young girls was amazing, and it turns out they were pitted up against each other in one of the official competitions the next day.  I not so secretly hoped that the Irish girls beat the English girls, if for no other reason than the English parents were smothering their daughters, sitting almost on top of them and interrupting the young girls' conversations.  They could have learned a lot from the Irish parents' relaxed and easy going manner.

Irish kids are really well behaved.  Let me back up that gross generalisation with a specific observation. In the last three weeks, including our time at the Fleadh, I have not seen one badly behaved kid anywhere (and we've even had occasion to be in a fast food outlet I won't name, but it rhymes with McShonalds).  The kids there were softly spoken, well mannered and walked quietly behind each other to the play equipment and the toilets.  Mind you, the staff there brought us our 'food' and thanked us for our custom and service while they held the door for us on the way out, so maybe we had just stepped into a parallel universe for the afternoon.

No doubt we will continue to wear our rose coloured glasses in this universe for a bit longer, but while it lasts, what a great way it is to live.