What a difference a day makes. Yesterday Galway’s streets were crawling with hummus eating sandal-wearing, bearded folks, melancholy poets, pale actors, and dramatic street performers. But now they’ve been hastily replaced by a bunch of blokes who want to look like they’re in Oceans Eleven, and their partners, who are for a week, more hat than woman.
Is it better or worse? We’re not sure. The aromas around town will almost certainly improve (or rather, maybe won’t with the cups of perfume some of the fillies will be applying ). Quay Street, though, will become not just a no-drive-zone and a no-walk-zone, as it makes its annual transformation into a gigantic outdoor nightclub.
Traffic is going to get a whole lot worse. No one goes to the Races on a bike, or via foot.
To be fair to the Arts Festival, it offered slightly more variety in its entertainment. From day one we had a nice mixture of dance, theatre, music, lectures. Day one of the races will see horses running around in circles. Day two will see horses running around in circles. Day three will see rain and horses running around in circles. Day four will see hats and horses running around in circles.
Yes folks, it’s Galway’s great transformation. For the past two weeks we’ve worshiped at the altar of art (and booze ). But now it’s time to shake off the glum recession talk, dust our dazzling glad rags off, and splash the cash in the bookies on horses, whose jockey we like the colours of.
And why not? Hard to beat Galway in summer.
