Ferry-tale complete with a castle & a kiss to remember

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. :)