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Matchmaker, matchmaker, make me a match

 



Ireland has retained traces, thousands of years of stonework still dotting the landscape, of the different tribes of people who have lived here. Of course there have been pagan matchmaking rituals, notably in the Spring, though some at harvest time… and over the course of my travels a couple people told me of a tradition when people married for a year and a day… and then decided whether to re-up the relationship or part ways. 

To my American eyes where every monument and wall is spray painted or otherwise vandalized,  how much hard evidence remains of the past in an unspoilt state is uncanny. Not just rumor handed down, but  unprotected historical sites. A few particular theories have been advanced to account for this, which I will get to. Probably in the blog about the Wicklow mountains where an Irish lad in my hostel has thought about this his entire life and is a firsthand witness to Irish behavior.

But for the moment, let’s zoom in on Lisdoonvarna’s adaptation of these ancient festivals promoting matchmaking. Perhaps the most accurate description which I heard from my hostel keeper and a local cashier in town is that it gets “messy”. Pubs open early in Ireland and folks not only begin unbridled drinking early in the day, but they go on as long as possible. 

The ages of those I saw milling about town and in the different venues ranged. The first night saw primarily oldsters, 40s and up. There was a predator/prey feeling out on the streets, with small crowds of one sex eyeing up small crowds of the other. It didn’t feel particularly healthy or chill to me, but that’s just me. I don’t think anybody was going for “chill.” The next day, though rainy and chilly saw a younger set coming in to town. I was there for the first weekend and it goes on for a few, gaining momentum and crowds according to the locals. I must say that the first night wasn’t particularly pretty in my hostel when four middle-aged women waltzed in in the wee hours, nay, they stumbled. One of them had a terrible time getting her bearings in the dark. And despite the fact that she called out “Mary, Mary” for close to an hour before I finally quit hearing her, her pals ignored her and passed out. 

It struck me as poetic the next day when the predator/prey theme played out literally. I asked one of my roommates, a fellow a few years older than me, let’s just call him an old geezer, but a good-natured one who introduced himself by saying he’d be dancing into the room in the wee hours. The next day as I said, was cold and pouring down rain. I wanted to see the burren landscape and particularly the Poulnabrone Dolmen, built 5,000 years ago, possibly by Neolithic farmers for what reason can only be postulated. The most dominant theories are that it was constructed for ritual purposes, or as a territorial marker or as a collective burial site. When it was excavated in 1988, around 33 human remains were uncovered as well as some fairly unidentifiable objects buried over a 600 year period from 3800 to 3200 BC, except for an infant with Downs Syndrome buried much later, during the Bronze Age. Makes you wonder.

He wasn’t doing anything, just sitting in the lobby Saturday afternoon, so I asked the gentleman if he’d take me there as it was too far to walk. He was game. On the way, though it really was remote and pretty much unspoiled, there were a couple other things to see, including a Birds of Prey aviary. Indulge me: how poetic is that?

So we stopped and watched a performance. The birds flew among us and I let one alight on my hand. Handsome, powerful birds. I was grateful for the opportunity for such intimacy.


Sculpture in the town square.


The photos on the website of the Burren Birds of Prey are far better than ones I took. There were several species, each bird dramatic and powerful. This one conveys the air about town.


Pulnabrone Dolmen in the Burren region of County Clare, not far from Lisdoonvarna. Constructed between 3900 and 3200 BC. Another portal. Set amidst the Burren landscape, a karst landscape centered in County Clare on the west coast of Ire;and, measuring around 530 square kilometers.




The Burren. It has a wild beauty, and while I did not have the opportunity to visit it, I’ve seen lovely photos of the Burren National Park and talked with several people devoting their vacations to hiking across the burren.