It didn’t take long for this group to find itself in a pub in Galway. The pub was The Quays (pronounced like “keys” and rhymes in Irish poetry with “today’s” and “always.”)
The decor of this pub is one part Gothic cathedral and one part shipwreck. Colored glass blocks are set in the floor and lit from below to give a stained glass effect, as if there wasn’t enough stained glass in the place already. The bar fittings and lights are polished copper and the bar rails solid brass. The floors are roughhewn timbers with gaps between them–a fact that I noticed after Emma dropped her engagement ring. It’s a good thing that the ring didn’t drop through one of those cracks, it would have gone straight to Hell, I’m sure.
There is no end to the alcoves, nooks and snugs in The Quays. Stairways lead in all directions like the Winchester Mystery House. Part of our group stayed at the bar where the Smithwick’s flowed freely. The rest of us went up one of the crazy flights of stairs and found table where we could talk.
I’ve lived most of my life not far from Disneyland and Hollywood, where things are never what they appear. So it was hard to know whether we were living an authentic Galway experience, or simply having a tourist trip designed by a pub consultant from Palm Bay, Florida. But apparently The Quays is the real deal. Originally a cottage pub with thatched roof, it became so popular that it grew into a cellar-type pub, importing the interior from a medieval French church. I have no idea when the remodel happened, but if I was wagering I’d say in the 1950s at the latest.
