Day 3 - "Is my name Sophia Lauren?"

The blaring alarm supposedly went off at 8am. Who knew? When our back-up alarm went off at 9am, I actually woke up. Libby and I got ready to go. The plan the previous night had been that we would figure out how we'd spend our day when we were driving to the grocery store. Then we would have plans, we would have breakfast, and we would have rest! The only problem was that Grandma was the only other person awake at 9:45 when Libby and I headed out. So, we got breakfast from some Aldi-like grocery store, and headed back (with a lot lighter wallets, since the grocery store only accepted cash), and THEN we planned our day.


As we sat around the breakfast table, we collectively came to the conclusion: "Hey! We're in Ireland!" (Brilliant, huh?) "Why don't we do our TOP priority just to make sure we get to do it?" After consulting with our big boss (AKA the hero of the story), we decided that priority was the Blarney Stone. Who can go to Ireland and not say that they saw the Blarney Stone?


By the time we headed out, it was already 11:45am, so we skipped lunch, and just drove. And drove. And drove. We have a GPS system in the vehicle, which is extremely handy, I must say. As the driver, I can attest to the fact that the roads here are very fun to drive on. They're amazingly twisty. There's never more than a mile of straight road, ANYWHERE. There are twists and turns... 90-degree angles... cars whizzing by on the other side of the road... narrow roads designed with horse-drawn carriages in mind, not minivans... speed limits high enough that I almost never feel comfortable going the 100 or 120kph they dictate... round-abouts all over the place (sometimes every quarter of a mile)... yield signs everywhere... But, with all those crazy things, I think that the most difficult thing to deal with is the fact that road signs are virtually nonexistant.

My Little Lady
A view of a pier

Beautiful green rolling hills, and the ocean

So, on our long drive to Blarney, "my little lady" (not Libby) talked our ears off: "Enter round-about in .3 miles." "Enter round-about and take second exit to stay on Route 671." "Drive on Route 671 for 2.8 miles." "Enter round-about in .3 miles." And on, and on, and on... Everyone else has decided that the GPS unit's name is Stella. I think she doesn't have a name. She's quite calm, though. Every time we take a wrong turn (which of course almost NEVER happens), she just calmly says, "Recalculating." And then gives me directions again. She doesn't have an Irish accent, but she does know how to pronounce all the random street names that have funny combinations of letters that don't seem to make sense. It has been probably the most useful thing one could possibly spend money on in Ireland. Although, it does get confused sometimes when you tell it you want to go to some place like Cashel and you don't realize there are two cities named Cashel. So, we still get to have some adventures.

We went to a gas station on the way. Even a gas station can be a bit of an adventure. We're driving a deisel minivan, but fortunately, pretty much every "petrol station" has deisel pumps. We went to one with "Pay @ the Pump" signs all over the place. So, we pulled up, and when we tried to figure out where to swipe our credit card, we were left scratching our heads. No luck. My dad asked some guy with a gas station jacket on, but it turns out he sold insurance or something and didn't know how it worked, either. (He gave us a free air freshener, though.) Turns out "Pay @ the Pump" really means pay inside. And the pump that I used kept shutting off after every 1/2 liter or so. I had no idea when the tank would be full. So, I put in 20 liters, which seemed like a whole lot, and counted my blessings that it hadn't overflowed. We had been at half a tank, and afterwards it got pretty close to full, but later we read in the owner's manual that the tank is about 70 liters.

Another stop on the way (sorry to be building the suspense so much to the Blarney Stone, but we had to wait, so I guess it's fair that you have to, also) was fresh strawberries! There are occasionally small stands on the side of the road where they sell them. They're not the cheapest ever, but they're delicious. My mother hopped out of the van to get some and had a lovely chat with the salesman (who seemed lonely, and quite ecstatic that we were there) before buying a small basket. We didn't have anywhere to put the stems, though, so we opened the plastic bag that the air freshener was in to make a little trash bag... wow! That was a mistake. Think of putting your nose 1/2 inch from a stick of men's deodorant... and leaving it there. And not being able to breathe fresh air. That's what the air "freshener" was like. After we rolled down the windows and turning the vents on full blast, Libby frantically wrapped it in a napkin, put it in a canvas bag, and threw it way in the back of the van. That made it barely tolerable. We ended up throwing it away, eventually.

Strawberry shopping

Walking away with the loot

There were several other random stops on the way. We were always on the look-out for sheep to photograph. They're quite common here, but they're hard to photograph. I don't know if they get scared easily, or something, but there are always LARGE hedges between the road and the fields where they graze. So, we catch glimpses of them, but never get good photo-ops. So we made several stops for them. And then we have to stop every time there's a pretty view or a fun old building. I'm not complaining because those are the only opportunities when I get a chance to look around and fully appreciate the beauty of God's creation here, but it does lengthen the journey as well.

Photo op: old church!

And then we arrived! As a naive American, I had no clue about anything to do with the Blarney Stone. I guess the 100% Irish blood flowing through Grandma, when it was passed down to me, didn't convey any sort of special knowledge. The myth behind it is that it conveys the gift of gab to anyone who kisses it. They even boast that the great orator Winston Churchill kissed it years and years ago. The origins are very much clouded by fables and stories and lies and exaggerations that have credited the origins to everyone from Vikings to just the local Irish. Anyhow, the stone is at the top of the Blarney Castle.

Upon arrival to the beautiful estate, Grandma decided ice cream sounded delicious. I guess that goes along with skipping lunch. So, we stopped at the snack shop and got some. (Don't worry Dale, it was non-fat, sugar-free, protein-enriched ice cream chock full of vitamins and minerals - so, she got several scoops.) It gave the rest of us to have a snack in a bowl, as well. Soup.

What a wonderful afternoon snack!

Soup or ice cream? Hard to decide!

Ducks!

How would you like this for your yard?

Do you see the castle yet?

Fun Fact: The term "Blarney" was introduced to the English language by Queen Elizabeth I. When presented with someone who spoke with high praises and empty flattery towards the throne but did not respect her authority, she said, "This is all Blarney. He never says what he means."

The stone is, indeed, at the top of the castle. It's on the outside wall, and there's a small gap between where the floor stops, and where the wall containing the stone is found. So, it requires lying on your back and being assisted by a gentleman who works for the Castle to make sure you don't fall (though there are steel bars that prevent you from falling very far, anyhow.

The grounds surrounding the castle were very well maintained, and the castle itself, it quite beautiful. It's so impressive seeing these buildings that are centuries old and just thinking that people used to live there. The rooms were labeled, and you were free to wander about and see the kitchen, the sleeping quarters, the bathrooms, and all the other spaces. The castle had all these random passages and different levels that it was really easy to become disoriented and lose all sense of which direction you were facing and how high up you were. There were also two staircases that went all the way to the top, and that's how we climbed up and down to the Stone. My parents went up first so that they could see/kiss the stone and we could get pictures from below, and then we switched.

Almost to the Blarney Castle!

The tower. Note the three (or "tree" as the Irish say) large holes arranged vertically in about the center of the picture... That's where the bathroom waste flowed out. Don't stand below.

The dungeon!

Pretty flowers, intimidating castle... how confusing!

Ladies, control yourselves: he's taken

Grandma watches Pat

Pat prepares to kiss Blarney Stone, seen from below

Pat kisses Blarney Stone

Grandma climbing up with Libby and me

Libby just after kissing the stone

Me kissing the stone

Me just after kissing the stone

Grandma kissing the stone

What a view!

From the top!

Remember that bench? Looks small from the top

My mother below

Cool castle

Scary!

Don't fall!

Blarney was quite awesome. Our star raved about it, and said afterwards that the castle is better that the Rock at Cashel. However, it was such an incredible experience, and we are so dedicated to making this a very well documented experience that she started to get a little - frustrated? amused, maybe? or perhaps disturbed is the best word - with the papparazzi. So at one point when told that we wanted another picture of her, she stopped walking and just said to us, "What? Is my name Sophia Lauren or something?

Don't worry. We didn't let that dampen our spirits, and this trip will continue to be extremely well documented. So, just for kicks, more random pictures of Grandma:

After Blarney, we headed to Kinsale. It has a reputation as being the "gourmet capital of Ireland." It has lots and lots of restaurants (and based on our difficulty in finding a restaurant in Waterford, that sounded appealing), and they're all supposed to be really good. So, we decided to treat ourselves to a fancy dinner. We went to the Blue Haven Restaurant. Most of us ended up getting a three-course meal. Delicious potato leek soup. Amazing Plaice (which is some sort of white fish). Terrific sticky pudding. Oh so good. That was my meal. I guess I was a little focused. Grandma got the same as me. Libby got warm goat cheese salad and fish and chips. My father avoided the burger and got fish and chips (with mushy peas). My mother got Plaice, also. Mmmmm...

Grandma had Diet Coke. Maybe the reason that Americans are so overweight is that our pop isn't fortified like the pop here. Note the description of its contents.

We made our way home after that... that was an even bigger than our other travels before. Have you ever driven in fog before? (I bet you just thought to yourself, "Of course I have!") Well, no you haven't. This was the worst visibility in the history of mankind. Think of the biggest Michigan or Ohio blizzard you've ever seen and how poor the visibility was. Now, reduce the visibility by half, and throw in twisty roads. Pretty gnarly, huh? That was our trip home. there was probably about 30 minutes straight (plus other scattered portions) where we never got above 30mph. We got home quite late... And everyone slept soundly. Good night.