Republic of Ireland
I found a hostel, got something to eat, and went out looking for a place to have a pint.
In those days Ireland was going out en masse, full of drink and money. I found out that evening that downtown Cork was mobbed on the weekends, full of roaring and squawking punters, every place filled elbow-to-elbow "black."
I didn't like that, and it made me sad, lonely. I wandered the "middle borough," the area between the two halves of the River Lee, but there was no place that I would feel comfortable.
I headed back toward the hostel, resigned to the idea of staying in.
I found the Lobby Bar. A string quartet upstairs, melancholic and somber. I spent the evening there.
I didn't talk to anybody. I remember the cello.