That's Blarney

Declining supplies of strawberry jam limited me to 4 packets for 6 pieces of toast, but otherwise my 9am breakfast was unchanged from the day before. Still, in the 'survival of the fittest'-world of hostels I was keen to continue to grab pieces of bread even as that bordered on exhaustion. More startling, was looking up to see the German equivalent of my friend Alex, only 15 years in the future and around 20 pounds heavier, sitting at the table across from me. Brittany too was shocked by the uncanny resemblance.

After breakfast, we gathered our belongings and rushed downstairs to check out - leaving our bags in the common luggage area - and reached the stop minutes before our bus to Blarney arrived. For 6.20 round trip we were off to the town that claims the most visited castle in Ireland as well as the stone that grants the 'gift of gab.'

Following the twenty minute ride, we arrived in the quaint town square surrounded by small shops, many dedicated to tourists. At the gate to the castle grounds, Brittany, Maggie and I were forced to turn around upon realizing that the entrance fee of 8 euro could not be paid with a card. Unfortunately the Bank of Ireland ATM was out of service in the nearby grocery store, but we eventually located an Allied Irish Bank one that functioned though only distributed 50 euro notes. On the way, we passed by parishioners leaving Mass and a candidate distributing literature by his sign-covered Lexus.

Once inside the Castle grounds, I was amazed to see the surviving tower rise up from the center and dominate the horizon. Built in 1446, Blarney Castle was besieged by Oliver Cromwell on a couple occasions, and is knwn for the various legends surrounding its name, stone, and missing gold.

North side of the Castle

Reunited with the rest of the group, we crossed the Blarney River to the imposing north side of the tower that rises out of the bedrock to a height of 7 or 8 stories. Cut into the rock below are several narrow passageways that are plagued with dripping water and low ceilings. Not wanting to crawl through the mud and darkness, we avoided exploring too far into the tunnels and caves.

Moving about to the southern side of the tower, we explored the surviving exterior round towers on the way, and arrived at the main entrance. Several rooms within the building bear witness to the many visitors who have toured the site across generations with names stretching back to the 1700s. Before leaving the main hall, Emma and I added ours to the building.

Before reaching the roof, you are able to wind around through several rooms that over views of the surrounding grounds and nearby town. However the trip upwards is not for the claustrophobic nor acrophobic, as the stone spiral staircase narrows and steepens as you proceed to the top. Still, we were thankful to depart the steps and stand on a more open area on the roof, though the high winds discouraged a few from braving the parapets that contained slits to the ground below for drainage.

Kissing the stone is no longer the death defying feat that generations before experienced. Modern iron bars are in place to guide your hands down are you are lowered backwards into the slit in front of the parapet. And a couple cross the gap below to catch you if the experienced guide were to let you slip. Nevertheless, the wife of 'German Alex' (they managed to choose the same day to visit Blarney) was too frightened to receive the 'gift of gab.'

Me kissing the Blarney Stone

Full Cork County Album

Descending via a noticeably wider spiral staircase we stopped a several points to explore a few more rooms and the murder hole above the main entrance. On our way out, it began to downpour, which spurred a quick exploration of a nearby round tower and the closed-for-renovations Blarney House (mansion).

Circling back, we stopped to tour the 'Rock Close' which contains gardens, waterfalls, and 'Witches' and 'Druids' Caves. Several posed pictures later we left the curious garden to return to the entrance to the grounds. On the way, Brittany and I found a set of swings which enhanced the entire trip to Ireland.

For lunch, we ate at Muskerry Arms Pub, owned by an Irishman born in Boston who has since opened locations in New York City. The Boston link was evident in the framed cover of the Boston Globe announcing the first Red Sox World Series win after 86 years among the various rugby and Gaelic sports jerseys and photographs. Still, my meal of a roast beef sandwich with chips was made better by my cheapest pint so far in Ireland, of Beamish at 3.10, and watching Celtic rout their arch rivals Rangers F.C. 3-0.

Following lunch, we took the 2:55pm bus back to Cork and rushed to catch the 4:00pm bus back to Dublin. After touring all weekend 8 of us were in no condition to stay for the 6:00pm, but John and Eric returned to Charlie's for some authentic Irish music.

This week, besides rest and classes, I look forward to purchasing an expensive Trinity Ball ticket, listening to Dumbledore when he visits campus, and perhaps competing in Simpsons Trivia at MacTorcaills. But on Friday I will depart for Lisbon for reading week.