AN August night in the sea-scented village of Kinvara finds us at Connolly's, a pub so permanent that if some codger were to tell you it was here before Galway Bay, lapping now just outside the door, you'd nod and buy him a pint. My wife and I are hunched at a small table with friends when a smiling woman in a peasant skirt sits beside us, carrying a perfectly appropriate accessory in this corner of Ireland -- a button accordion.

She is Mary Staunton, a musician known throughout the Irish west. When the inevitable call goes out, she obliges, her fingers skipping across the buttons like children playing frantic but sure-footed hopscotch. Then a white-haired man mentions an old song from his childhood. Does she know it? Why yes, she does, and when her fingers finish their dance, leaving the man smiling, there suddenly rises from across the room the hesitant but clear voice of a young woman who has summoned the nerve to sing. ("And I said let grief be a fallen leaf/At the dawning of the day.") As she sings, all talking stops: an entire pub, transported. And I think to myself, now this would never happen where I'm from.

Was this the real Ireland? Or was it a rare dash of magic, sprinkled into Connolly's to validate an antiquated sense of Ireland -- a sense rooted in the days when economic inequity between two countries allowed American tourists to spend as though Ireland were one sprawling duty-free shop? Though the country is now experiencing some economic uneasiness, you still cannot help but think: How times have changed.

Over the years, I have spent a lot of time in the western counties of Galway and Clare, and if nothing else, this is what I have gleaned: Ireland can be that place you missed as you traveled around Ireland, looking for Ireland.

Yes, you can find a thatched cottage here and there, if you try. Yes, you may even encounter a white clot of sheep blocking your rented car's path, raising from musty memory some postcard caption about Irish Rush Hour. But to wander about, looking to bag with a digital camera some approximation of a time-faded Irish postcard, is to miss the complexities of a country that is thoroughly enjoying its wealth and adapting to its European Union membership while at the same time trying to preserve its dreamlike landscape and proud cultural heritage.

You may indeed hear a young Irish woman suddenly break into song in Kinvara. But you may also walk around the corner and be served dinner by a young man with an Eastern European accent instead of a brogue. Travel 10 miles up the road to Gort and you might wade into a celebration of Brazilian culture, staged by a transplanted community that is now an integral part of that old market town.

There you have it: delightful, post-millennial Ireland.

Well versed by now in the lesson that to search for Ireland is to miss it, my family and I once again settled into a self-catered apartment in Kinvara, a village cleaved to Galway Bay near the Clare-Galway border. A generation ago, even a decade ago, you might have called it an unhurried place; now Kinvara captures the transformation of Ireland in so many ways.

The village has a few narrow streets, some shops and pubs, and a stone-walled pier more than 200 years old, from which the distant lights of Galway City can be seen at night and the inhalations and exhalations of the sea can be measured. Across from the pier there looms Dunguaire Castle, which for nearly five centuries has stood on grounds near the ancient fort of Guaire, seventh-century King of Connaught.

Introduction to Aran Islands

When you see the ghostly shapes of the islands floating 48km (30 miles) out at sea like misty Brigadoons, you instantly understand why the Aran Islands have been the subject of fable and song for thousands of years. The islands -- Inis Mór (Inishmore), Inis Meain (Inishmaan), and Inis Oirr (Inisheer) -- are outposts of Gaelic culture and language. The islands are physically beautiful, and home to protected bird species, and a lovely, deeply isolated landscape. To this day, many of the 1,500 inhabitants of the islands still maintain a somewhat traditional life, fishing from currachs (small crafts made of tarred canvas stretched over timber frames), living in small stone cottages, relying on pony-drawn wagons to get around, and speaking Gaelic, although they all speak English as well. The classic hand-knit bainin sweaters that originated here are still worn, as there's nothing better for keeping out the chill. Sadly, though, the constant flow of tourists has had an impact on island life, and more and more islanders are involved in modern life, running tourist-related businesses. In fact, visiting in the high season -- particularly in July and August -- can be a disappointment, since the small, rocky islands are not suited to being overrun by crowds, and at that time of year, visitors arrive by the boatload.

Most visitors debark from the ferries at Kilronan, Inishmore's main town and a very easy place in which to arrange or rent transportation. The mode is up to you: Jaunting cars can be hailed like taxis as you step off the boat, minivans stand at the ready, and bicycle rental shops are within sight.

Of the islands, Inishmór is the largest and the easiest to get to from Galway, and the one that best handles the large groups of tourists. Its easy transport means you can escape the crowds if you wish, or, if you play well with others, there are plenty of pubs and restaurants to keep you busy. If that all seems far too noisy to you, you might prefer Inishmaan or Inisheer, both of which are smaller and quieter, and arguably more beautiful than Inishmór.

All of the islands are physically strange looking, with a ring of rocks around their outer edges, and, inside, small farms layered in soft green grass and wildflowers. The most dramatic landscape is to be found on the western sides where huge cliffs plummet vertiginously into the frothing sea below.

There are some excellent geological sights out here, including the magnificent Dún Aengus, a vast stone cliff fortress on Inishmór, dating back 2,000 years on the edge of a cliff that drops 90m (295 ft.) to the sea. It's original purpose is unknown -- some think it was a military structure, others say it was a vast ceremonial theater. From the top there are spectacular view of Galway Bay, the Burren, and Connemara

Also on Inishmór a heritage center, Ionad Arann, Kilronan, (tel. 099/61355), explores the history and culture of the islands. Exhibits examine the harsh landscape, Iron Age forts, and early churches. In addition, the 1932 film Man of Aran, directed by Robert Flaherty, is shown six times daily. The center is open March to May and October daily 10am to 5pm, and from June to September daily 10am to 7pm. Admission to the center is €4.50 ($5.85) for adults, €3 ($3.90) for students, €2.50 ($3.25) for seniors and children, and €9.25 ($12) for families. Discounted combination tickets to the center and film are available. The cafe serves soups, sandwiches, and pastries throughout the day.