One week later, my plans to travel through the Dingle Peninsula were thwarted by time. Looking at the map, it seemed simple to get there and back. Unfortunately, there was no direct way, and all the buses out of Galway stopped in every tiny town. My 157-mile trip was due to take over seven hours to arrive, and I couldn’t see myself spending that much time on a stuffy bus. I wanted to go, but not at that expense.
Flipping through my guidebook for something closer, I opened to County Clare, which neighbored County Galway. The word Doolin had been circled and highlighted and the Cliffs of Moher was starred. Surprised that I had missed such a beautiful landmark in my calendar of things-to-do, I studied the map between Doolin and Galway. It didn’t look too far.
In tiny black letters, the words Lisdoonvarna jumped at me. I heard the cabbie’s words in my head, ‘The next festival is the Matchmaking Festival in Lisdoonvarna.’ Searching for festivals in the index, I found Lisdoonvarna’s Matchmaking Festival, and flipped past the Cliffs of Moher. There it was. “For the entire month of September, come to Lisdoonvarna for the biggest matchmaking festival in Europe. Meet with Willie Daly, Ireland’s premier matchmaker. To date, he has matched over 2,000 couples.”
My mind wandered to Scott and the state of our relationship and lack of correspondence. My growing feelings for Jaime convoluted my logic, and I wondered if what I was doing was right. Maybe the matchmaker could help me sort out my worries.
Zoey and Marissa sat on the couch in our living room watching Coronation Street, the long-running British soap opera. “Hey, guys.” I sat beside Zoey, and she passed me a potato chip. On the screen, a woman I didn’t recognize walked past. “Who’s that?”
“Lucy Richards. She’s a florist and somehow connected to Peter,” Marissa said. The three of us had fallen into this addictive show when we first moved in and hadn’t found anything else to watch on the telly. Now at least one of us watched it daily and provided updates over dinner.
At the first commercial break, I broke up their trance. “Do you want to go to Doolin this weekend? Jaime has a football match in Cork, so it would be just us girls. I thought we could check out the Cliffs of Moher and then spend a day at the Matchmaker’s Festival on our way home. This is the last weekend for the festival, and I heard it’s wild.”
“Would we be gone the whole weekend?” Marissa asked.
“I think so. We can go to Doolin after classes on Friday, the Cliffs on Saturday morning, head to Lisdoonvarna Saturday night, and then home by Sunday morning.” The scheduling was the easy part. The follow through would be tougher with so many personalities involved.
“How much do you think it would cost? I’ve been going through money kind of quickly so far.” Worry lines in Zoey’s forehead deepened.
Mental math was not my strong suit so I guessed a generous number. “I don’t know. I would say a hundred bucks, just to be safe.”
“I’ll go,” Marissa said. “I have nothing else to do.”
“Can I let you know tomorrow? I have to look at my bank account.” Zoey’s fingers drummed on her lap.
“Sure, of course. In the meantime, I’ll do some research and buy tickets tomorrow. Zoey, let me know in the morning, okay?”
Zoey nodded and both girls turned their attention to the telly. I made my way back to my room, scouring my guidebook for hostels, cheap hotels, and bus routes. I’d be hitting two birds with one stone…the travel bug and Cupid’s arrow. Maybe this matchmaker could shed some light on my ability to find love.
The next morning, Zoey had gone to school but left a note on the table: Rory, I’m going to pass on this weekend. Thanks for the invite though! Zoey
Underneath was a note from Marissa: Rory, I forgot I have a project due Monday that I haven’t even started yet. I’m going to stay home this weekend. Have fun! Marissa
Frowning, I picked up both notes and contemplated my choices. Do I travel alone or do I miss out on an opportunity to sort myself? All I needed was a body to keep me safe, but no available person came to mind.
As much as it pained me to scrap the Cliffs of Moher from my itinerary, finding the matchmaker was more important, and this was the festival’s last weekend. It was now or never. Do or die.
That afternoon, I purchased one round trip bus ticket to Lisdoonvarna for Saturday.
Chapter 16
My Saturday morning alarm blared at six a.m., jolting me upright. I had stayed in the night before while Zoey and Marissa went to some local bars and Jaime traveled to Cork with his team. Alone in our apartment, I had curled up under my duvet and thought about my feelings toward Scott and Jaime. Nervousness had turned to excitement as my thoughts transitioned to meeting a real matchmaker, unsure what to expect. I hadn’t told anyone about my appointment with him because I felt silly, like I wasn’t in control of my life.
Now, dragging myself out of bed, pins and needles swept through my limbs as I carried myself to the shower and down to the bus station. My father would kill me if he knew I was traveling by bus through a foreign country alone. With commitment, I reminded myself that I came to Ireland to grow, and although this solo trip wasn’t originally planned, it was necessary.
The bus ride to Lisdoonvarna took a little under two hours, and I spent the time staring out the window, dreaming about creating a life over here. The slower pace, kind people, and natural beauty were the exact opposite of my experiences in Boston. Time slowed, and every moment meant more and had a greater impact than any of the fleeting moments in America.
I knew I had arrived before the bus halted on the narrow street. People of all ages filled the downtown strip, walking up and down the sidewalk and moving in and out of pubs. It wasn’t even lunch yet, and the party had already started. Music beat through the closed bus windows and I swayed my head to the beat of a jig, feeling my spirits soar as all thoughts of uncertainty disappeared. This was where I belonged.
Swinging my backpack across my shoulders, I followed a dozen people off the bus and into the chaos of the bustling town. Everywhere I looked, men of all ages popped into my vision. Regardless of their age, they smiled warmly. I couldn’t help but smile back, the infectious music lifting my spirits and making me forget about my uncertainty.
I roamed through the streets until I found The Matchmaker’s Bar, where Willie Daly set up shop. The pub screamed fun, with its bright colored mural along the outside of the pub, decorated with images of iconic Ireland, musical instruments, and symbols of love. The entrance swam with people, and inside the bar was a sea of men and women, dancing to a band set up in the corner. Brought back to the 1950s, when dating seemed easier, I imagined my grandparents dancing at a sock hop, enjoying the night and all the possibilities it could bring. They would have loved it here.
A crowd of people stood beside the bar on the far side of the pub and a handful of men settled at tables drinking pints. Clusters of women hovered on the outskirts checking out their options.
An older man with white hair and a long beard roamed through the pub holding a thick, tattered book wrapped with twine. I didn’t know if that was him, but when I had spoken to the pub owner a few days before, he said I should find the man with the Book of Love. Perhaps that old book was the book I needed.
Rather than approach him I ordered a beer and sat at the bar, watching him mingle with the guests and laugh at their stories. A tall man at least twice my age caught my eye and threaded his way through the crowd. “Hi, I’m Seamus.” He stuck out his hand and I shook it. The Irish name brought my thoughts back to Jaime, and I wondered if this was a sign.
