The Only Non-Smoker in Galway Goes to Heaven
April 11th
I remember once reading a travel article about a place that the author refused to identify, on the grounds that he or she did not want to make it easy for tourists to find and corrupt what was, to that writer and traveler, a place whose singular characteristics should not be sullied by the unappreciative.
At the time this concept appealed more or less on a purely technical, unemotional level; "What a cool gimmick" was probably close to my exact thoughts. Now, during my second day in Galway, I understand - I empathize with - that writer's reasons, and I believe that writer could read this piece and understand why I am not going to reveal to you the identity of the place where I am enjoying and savoring this night.
For a non-smoking - read that as 'cigarette hating' - loner such as myself, who likes black coffee and Earl Grey more than shots and pints, this place is not only a haven: it could be heaven - and since when has heaven been easy to get into?
Sooner or later, I am sure this place will, like Garland's beach, be found out. That other writer's paradise, too, may even now face ambush and bombardment by pot-bellied soldiers uniformed in Bermudas and armed with cameras and traveler's checks. Sooner or later, I am sure, this haven I have found will be found out; it is certainly no secret to the locals - it has been open for a few years now - and if it isn't already known to the foreigners, then I'm sure it's only a matter of time.
However, 'sooner or later' does not include 'now' - and I intend to keep it that way.
The place I speak of, the place I write and relax in tonight, is a coffee shop - there is no use trying to hide what would be so easily discerned - and though I first found it yesterday, while exploring Galway's side streets, it is only today that I have come in - first during the afternoon, and again tonight.
One more, unavoidable clue: the first floor is the non-smoking section; other than myself, this section is empty, just as it was this afternoon. When the waitress brought my Earl Grey, just a few minutes ago, I told her that it seemed like I was the only non-smoker in Galway. She laughed as she set down my tea, then replied, "You ought to see it at two in the morning. Then it's not so empty."
Two in the morning?
I reveled as she left: a coffee shop that is open until two in the morning? It can't be! It is too good, too brilliant; not in this terrible disappointing world can such a beautiful thing be true!
And, alas, it isn't: the menu told me so.
This heaven is open seven nights a week, until four in the morning: an all-night, early-morning coffee shop!
I could die here.
I could also live here, come to think of it. Perhaps I should have a chat with the management...
If you find this heaven, be sure you can stay awhile - because you're going to want to (if you deserve to have found this place at all). Come especially at night, when the city has calmed, when the streets have emptied and the pubs have filled (though once the pubs and clubs have emptied, with the late opening time it gets quite busy).
This is a good place - candlelight, high ceilings, dark wood furniture; and deceptive, wonderful photographs of the human body hung on blue and yellow walls whose painted-over quotations ("There's no such thing as strong coffee - only weak people") are still visible - to have a quiet night, with a book, with a notebook or sketchpad, with a friend, with a lover, in this haven, in this heaven. Come to this place.
That is, if you can find it.
But I'll never tell.
Questions?
If you want more information about this area you can email the author or check out our Europe Insiders page.
