Galway Tourist

There are so many people here: a vibrant city with locals who dress in short sleeves, bare legs with dresses, sandals even, while the tourists are bundled in scarves, heavy jackets, sweaters, hoodies. The students coming back from lunch wear a simple navy blue jumper (pullover sweater), so lightweight with their school patches on their chests. It is so hard to stand out among the many who walk through the Latin Quarter, visit the Spanish Arch, or the Cathedral. There is only one that made me sit up, pay attention while I ate a salad in Galway’s West End outside the Gourmet Tart shop. He appeared out of nowhere: a gentleman with grey hair almost to his chin, 60s, alone, wearing a brown and grey tartan kilt, black jacket, black shoes and ankle length socks. He stood completely still, his left arm held behind his back. I can say he was the only tourist wearing a kilt in the 24 hours I have been in this city. It was the color of the tartan, such an unusual color combination; not blue or red tartan. I could only stare from my seat at the tiny table and make up a story. A man from Scotland visiting his daughter, dressed as he normally would at home, or the type of formal attire for a family visit.

Rod Stewart sang, “Every picture tells a story.” This is one image I will not forget in the sea of tourists in Galway.