It was the first time I had ever been on a ferry and I have to say it
was similar to how I would imagine a very short cruise. The ship was huge (11
floors) and it had a very luxurious appearance- from the rouge velvet armchairs
to the mirror-lined walls of the bistro. Whitney and I relaxed for a bit and
entertained ourselves with a few games of Mad Libs. After about an hour, we made
our way up to the observation deck. Behind us, the rocky cliffs of Wales were
fading in the twilight and ahead on the horizon, the glowing lights of Dublin
illuminated the Irish shoreline.
It was dark when we reached Dublin, and luckily we managed (with the
help of another determined gentleman) to run and catch the last bus of the
evening from the airport into town. We quickly figured out the train system and
were at our hostel within 20 minutes. We were a bit hesitant to enter at first
because the exterior had the appearance of a fancy nightclub. After a closer
look through the large glass doors lining the front of the building, we decided
the interior had a few of the typical signs of a hostel: people hanging out on
computers and a reception desk in front of which huddled a small group of
backpackers. This was by far the nicest I have stayed at yet. (GeneratorHostel). In our room we met a nice guy from south France who spoke with us a
bit in French and then we all went out to dinner at a Kebab shop.
The best part about our trip to Ireland was the fact that we hadn’t
planned any of it. We simply knew that we wanted to be there for about four
days and we wanted to see the Cliffs of Moher and a few castles along the way;
other than that, we were just there to soak up the culture and the vast green
landscape– which is exactly what we did.
We knew that we would like to see south Ireland and had both heard
good things about Cork, so in the morning we hopped on the first train there.
It was afternoon when we arrived and rainy so we quickly decided to take the
first (and closest) hostel that was recommended to us. We set out bags down in
the room and then ventured out to explore a bit of the town. Unfortunately, the
“high quality” Target umbrella in which I had invested a hard-earned $12, was
less than acceptable in the mild wind and rain, so we gave up and toughed it
out in the drizzle. We walked up the street to see the Butter Museum but for
some reason made the choice to keep exploring rather than go in…it might have
been closed or I might have just felt a little silly going into a museum solely
devoted to a toast spread. Regardless, the rain was not letting up so we moved
on to see a church nearby and take cover in its entrance while we decided our
next destination. Driven by hunger and the need to replenish a few traveling
necessities, we headed into the town center towards the market. The market was
interesting but nothing too fancy. A masterfully crafted, towering display of
delectable on our way out (marketing at its finest) caught our attention and we
let our sweet tooth get the best of us. We bought what I will call a cookie
sandwich to enjoy after a wet trek back to the hostel. If I remember correctly,
it was basically a thick, delicious, frosting-like cream sandwiched between two
even more delicious cookies.
We changed into dry clothes and warmed up a bit before heading down to
the kitchen/common room to enjoy our yummy treat. We met one woman from the US and
two sisters from Australia. Even considering the pub downstairs, the hostel was
fairly quiet and the five of us decided that we were probably the only ones
staying there. After an hour of relaxing and talking to our new friends, the
previous assumption was invalidated by the animated entrance of three rowdy
Irish boys who burst into the common room and wasted no time introducing
themselves and learning our names. They were staying in the hostel as well and
just coming back from a long day of volunteer work out in the cold wind and
rain. These three characters, Joe, Donal, and John, quickly became the best
entertainment we experienced on the trip.
 | |
| Donal |
The next two nights at the hostel were spent in the downstairs pub
with our new little group comprised of: two Australians, three Irish, three
Americans and one German and one Spaniard who both joined us the second night. The
first night, we drank some beers and engaged in lively conversation while we
watched John dominate at billiards (aka: pool). At about midnight, when
everyone in the bar had enjoyed a “few” beers and the drunkenness started to
set in, the party moved to the small back room which was designated the smoking
area. As smoking is such an integral part of the culture, it is common for the
best and most animated part of the evening to be found not inside at the bar,
but instead, out front or in a hazy, smoke filled room where the conversation
is unfiltered and the atmosphere is nothing but welcoming. The demographics of
this crowd ranged from ages 19 to maybe 35 and backgrounds from all over Ireland
and then of course two young American girls just there to enjoy the night.
Donal played his guitar and everyone joined in singing songs they knew and
making up words to the ones they didn’t. My favorite part of the evening was
listening to Donal make up his own lyrics off the top of his head in both
English and Gaelic. It was almost 2:30 am when we decided we should call it a
night so we could get up and do some traveling in the morning. Admittedly, the
smoke was also starting to get to both of us so we thought it best to give our
lungs a bit of a break as well. (Only second-hand smoke, of course!)
We had checked out a few day-trip options and chose to take the bus up
to Blarney, which was about 40 minutes away. Luckily the bus driver was very
nice (like all people we encountered in Ireland) and helped us out when we
missed our stop. It was maybe 12:30 or 1:00 when Whitney and I made our way up
to the entrance of the Blarney Castle grounds. The walk up to the castle was
gorgeous: vivid green grass, towering trees and a clear-water stream that led
the way. We explored the first small entrance that we came too and discovered
that it was the remains of the dungeon. We couldn’t get very far, though
Whitney was quite adventurous and attempted to crawl through the small
passageway that we hoped would lead to something interesting…but alas, we were
deterred by a large spider, a dangerously slippery and muddy crawl-space and
the realization that it probably lead to a dead end in a less-that-exciting
room. We wandered around the outside and checked out one of the watchtowers
before beginning our ascent to the top and the glorious Blarney Stone.
The tight, spiral staircase in some places, was barely wide enough for
one average sized person and the uneven stairs made it a bit of a hazardous
climb. The many rooms and chambers that we visited on the way up gave us a good
feel of how it might have been to live in a castle centuries ago. We had a good
time imagining the rooms fully furnished and picking out our favorite areas in
the castle. It was nice because there weren’t a lot of people there so we felt
that we could take our time without the hassle and annoyance of other tourists.
As we reached the top, we prepared ourselves for the kiss of a lifetime…ok,
that’s a bit dramatic, but it was definitely an experience. If you don’t know
what the Blarney Stone is take a look at these links (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Blarney_Stone)
(http://sacredsites.com/europe/ireland/blarney_stone.html).
Basically, it is said that if you kiss this stone you are blessed with “The
Gift of Gab,” aka: great eloquence or skill at flattery.
Obviously, it was not really necessary for me to kiss the stone, as I am
naturally gifted with such eloquence and skill, however, when at Blarney
Castle… ;) . I must be honest and tell you that 1.) it was a bit scary hanging
upside down from the edge of the roof of a castle, and 2.) the Stone smelled
funny- quite like you’d imagine the scent of a sweet mixture of a million types
of chap stick pressed against a single stone. When I say “sweet” I don’t mean sweet like a
nice mixed berry or pom-apple-grape-cherry…more like the nauseating sweetness
of a hundred different “old lady” perfumes jammed into a single, waxy stick and
applied to your grandma’s lips before she gives you a big kiss right on the tip
of your button nose. Nonetheless, it was an exhilarating experience and one of
which I now have official documentation and a photo (I purchased the
certificate and professional picture of me actually kissing the stone.) 
Though it was relatively cold, we were lucky to enjoy some sun for the
next few hours as we meandered around the endless acreage of moist greenery.
The castle was certainly worth seeing but, admittedly, it was the grounds that
surrounded the castle that were truly enchanting. Random ruins of stone
buildings; quaint, little doors in a mossy stone wall; narrow, muddy lanes
lined by forests of emerald; the stark contrast of red blossoms on vibrant
green leaves; a glittering blue lake bordered by rolling hills; and finally, a
long road perfectly juxtaposed by brilliant yellow daisies under a stormy gray
sky. Yes, this fairytale was even complete with a pasture of well-bread steeds
and a garden of stone paths and a babbling brook.
Unfortunately, we had to cut our day a bit short because the ominous
thunder meant rain was surely on the way. After grabbing a sandwich for a quick
meal from the small entrance shop, we hurried back down the street to catch the
bus back to Cork. We found out when we got back to the hostel, that Jo and
Nicky (sister from Australia) had, in fact, made the same trip to Blarney
Castle that day and must have just been an hour or two ahead of us.
An awesome night followed that fantastic day and I look forward to
telling you all about it…in my next post. :)
