I love Ireland

I decide to take my chances elsewhere and walk to the Victorian spa, an eclectic complex that blends architecture from various periods — an old café that resembles a Victorian train station, a modern glass-enclosed dance hall and a gorgeous art deco bathhouse currently being restored to its 1920s glory. In the café, I quaff a glass of the spa’s famous sulfur-suffused mineral water. Allegedly a potent aphrodisiac, I gag as the elixir slides down my throat.

I’m not sure if it’s the sulfur water or dumb luck, but I meet someone that night. At the Roadside Pub a husky blonde rubs up against me and asks where I’m from. Her name is Jan, and she’s drinking Irish Mist (straight up). We chat a bit, I buy her another Mist. Eventually nature calls, and I excuse myself. I’m back in a flash, but not before Jan catches the eye of another guy at the bar. That’s Lisdoonvarna. Doesn’t matter; I’m just here for a bit of craic anyway, as they say in these parts — an old Celtic term for rollicking good times.

The next day I explore the countryside around Lisdoonvarna. This part of County Clare is called The Burren, a windswept highland with incredible limestone rock formations and deeply wooded vales. The area has more ancient sites per square mile than any other part of Ireland, including prehistoric rock monuments like the Poulnabrone Dolmen. The Burren doesn’t glide down to the sea; it drops straight off at the Cliffs of Moher, where I stand on the edge of a 300-foot drop, staring at the Aran Isles.

Back in Lisdoonvarna, just when I think that love is about as rare as a sunny day, I meet Patrick and Nora at the Rathbaun pub. He’s a local farmer; she’s a bonny Irish lass who’s been living in England for 30 years. “A friend invited me to the festival,” she says. “I said no at first because I could only imagine a bunch of smelly farmers. But my friend kept insisting and I finally gave in.”

A week and a half into her stay, she had yet to meet anyone who even remotely sparked her interest. But then Willie Daly introduced her to Patrick. 

“God’s truth, I was supposed to fly home tomorrow morning,” says Nora. “But I’ve cancelled my flight. And I don’t know how long I’m staying.” Patrick squeezes her hand, and they gaze into one another’s eyes with one of those looks you only see in movies — and in Lisdoonvarna, when that matchmaking magic finally kicks in.

Each issue of ISLANDS Magazine explores the most beautiful island destinations in the world, from tropical island outposts to the sophisticated gems of the Mediterranean. Our top-rate photographers and writers discover the quiet beaches, boutique hotels, and unique cultural experiences that make island travel unique.

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