A night in Galway in 3 parts

Because even when you think you might finally just be about to go home – something else can always happen.

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Part I: how I met Zazie at the window at 4 o’clock.

Galway. The night is pitch back and I am in a small street by the Docks. Not a single human being around.

Hey…”

The voice of a girl.

“HEY”

Again. And I still do not see anyone around.

HEY! I said H-E-Y –Y-O-U!

Ok, maybe it’s for me.

“Y-O-U!”

I see her. She is probably about 20, has black dark hair, a black dress, and she is at the window of an apartment I just passed by. Ground floor.

“Yes, you! Finally!

“What the hell are you doing at 4 in the morning with that big bag? Who are you, a serial killer?”

Nice. I had the impression I didn’t look fresher than ever but I didn’t know things got so out of hands that I started looking like a serial killer.

Yet, ok. This time at least she didn’t go for the are you a journalist right away.

“No, I haven’t been one so far yet. I just have my office here in this bag. I’m coming from the poker village around the corner…”

“Ah, so you are a journalist.”

What the…

“How do you know?”

“I don’t know, you just look like a journalist.”

Or a serial killer. Not bad.

“Why? How does a journalist look like?”

“Like you, I told you. Don’t make repeat the same stuff all over, please. It’s almost 4am, I am tired- you know?

Damn it. If in my life I have ever imagined Queneau’s Zazie in any other way – I was wrong. One minute talking to her, and she is Zazie already.

“Where are you from?” she asks me.

“Uh, it’s not that easy” I go with. “What do you want to know: where was I born or where I am coming from now?”

“Israel.”

“Wait – what?”

“You are from Israel.”

“Why would I be from Israel then?”

Because you look like one.”

One – what?”

ONE FROM ISRAEL! WAKE UP!”

“And how one f…no. sorry, I won’t ask that. Do you know where can I go to buy cigarettes this late?”

“No. But I can give you a cigarette if you want.”

“That would be wonderful. Thank you.”

Part II: on how Sardina is a country on its own and I got myself a girlfriend

Sorrysorrysorrypleasepleaseplease…can you just pretend you are my boyfriend from a minute?”

Another girl, another type, another scenario.

We are on Galway’s busiest road, few steps from a super crowded MacDonalds and she’s wearing a short dress and high noisy heels.

“Please, just for one minute. Some Polish guys are being so annoying that I told them you are my boyfriend.”

Ok…few steps earlier I was a serial killer, and now I am potential boyfriend. This Galway has quite a nightlife.

We start walking together.

“Where are you from?” she asks. And this time I go for a simpler answer.

“Italy.”

“Where about?”

“Sardinia.”

“Where is that?”

Now, if there’s one thing I do not understand is why in the world lots of people know nothing about Sardinia but know everything about Corse.

“Do you know the French island..”

“Corse? Sure, I do.”

“Ok. I come from an island right below that. Just bigger.”

“You come from Sardinia!”

“Yes, I do…”

“But so don’t bullshit me, please! YOU are NOT Italian!”

Ok, fine. Here we go…maybe I should just start saying Israel…“You know, trust me – but I am not form anywhere in Africa either. Sardinia is part of Italy so…”

“No, it’s not! Do you think I am that ignorant?!  I know perfectly that Sardinia is a country on its own”.

And if she knows it perfectly, that means she must be right. “I know people who would love that to be true – but I am afraid I will have to disappoint you…”

“GIIIIIIIRLS!! GIIIIIIIRLS!!”

Oh, please. We were only missing the shouting now.

“GIIIIIIIRLS!! This guy is from Sardinia and keep saying he is Italian! Why is he doing this?!”

Thee high-heeled girls join the conversation. And it’s 4 against 1 in a second.

Thankfully they are drunk, I am drunk and I can just walk away while they argue about geography and Sardinia.

So, that’s how I dumped my Galway girlfriend.

Part III: What people do before getting married in Galway

Less than 500 meters from home – another stop.

This time one guy is just sitting on a chair in the middle of a busy road while people around just keep laughing and cars keep driving as if he was not really a problem.

“That’s Galway!” someone say. And I do not want to miss it, I want to keep a memory of this.

So, I take my camera and I start filming what is going on close to Merchant Street past 4am.

These guys are soon getting married. And he is a genius.

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