Blarney Castle

So, the original plan for our second day in Ireland was to visit Skellig Islands off the west coast of Ireland.  We have only visited them once before--when our kids were little, and the Morans only had three children.  It is a place like no other, and we were hoping to visit the islands again.

Like many other times in Ireland, the weather wreaks havoc with our plans, and we have learned to be flexible about it.  Looking out the window from our hotel on Day One, I didn't have much hope in being able to go, seeing as there seems to be some strange connection between rain and really big ocean waves.  Sure enough, we called around, and nobody was going out the next day because of the weather.  *cue disappointment*

However, we took a couple of minutes, got on the WiFi, and decided to visit another "must see" in Ireland.  Blarney Castle.  The next morning, after waking up and treating ourselves to another Irish breakfast, we headed South.

The last time we visited Blarney Castle, it was rather disappointing.  The gardens felt overwhelming, the lines long, and the actual kissing of the Blarney stone not anything near what I had imagined.  I told myself that a repeat visit wasn't worth it.

I don't know what Blarney Castle we visited then, or in what dimension we were living, but this time, the visit to the castle was a mixture of a pure treat and unforgettable adventure.  When we arrived, there was hardly a soul there.  "Great," I thought, "we'll have the whole place to ourselves."  So after paying the entrance fee, we stopped for some pictures and headed into the first part of the castle:  the dungeon.

I bet you can't guess what one of John's favorite activities is to do in Ireland?
Of course, if I had a picture of the back of his shirt, you would see the words, "...like zombies are chasing you."

By the time we came out of the dungeon, a half million tourists had descended on the castle, skipping the teeny tiny dungeon and forming a line to kiss the infamous Blarney stone.  Knowing that we had a whole day to browse, we figured we could outwit them all by touring the gardens first.  And what gardens they are!

You know when you first open a bottle of ketchup or mustard, and you aren't sure how full it is, nor the strength that it will come out of the bottle, so you test it a bit.  I personally test it over the sink.  When I get it started and see how much pressure is required, I then proceed to put it on my hamburger.

Well, when God was creating the earth, I think he had a big old bottle of green paint, and he wasn't sure how fast it would come out.  So, he tested it on Ireland.  There is just no way to describe or capture how green and beautiful everything is.

John came prepared, wearing his running clothes, and headed out on the trails through the gardens.  Ethan, Rebecca and I followed, but at a very leisurely pace.  That is, until it started to rain.  And it was at this point that the endless teasing of Ethan and his refusal to go back to the car and get my raincoat when we first entered the park began.    We actually ended up walking several miles through the gardens, and they were worth every step.

Like it always does in Ireland, the rain stopped, and the sun came out.  And John found us, still walking through the gardens.  It wasn't long before we were close to the castle again.  There were some amazing pictures to be taken.

How can you NOT love Ireland with signs like this?

I don't know who decided that this tree would be a good tree to climb, but it was pretty hilarious watching Ethan and John attempt it.

Finally, we arrived back at the castle, and you know that we thought the line would be non-existent by now.  Oh no.  The other half million had shown themselves by this point, and the line ran down the hill.  There was nothing we could do but wait.

And the heavens opened, and the rain fell.  And you thought the giant flood happened with Noah....

Standing in line, we just got wetter and wetter and wetter.  At one point, some nice old lady offered to let me stand under her umbrella.  Usually, I would refuse on the basis that a stranger that close to me is WAY too far into my personal space, but I was desperate.  She turned out to be a lovely little thing (and I say little because I definitely had to stoop to stay under the umbrella), and I was most grateful for her kindness.

At the same time, I was "reminding" Ethan of my request for him to get my raincoat hours earlier.

We were definitely hoping for the blessing of the Blarney stone after the long lines and the wait.  If nothing else, I did not lack in words to make Ethan feel guilty!

By this point, my beautifully straightened hair was a hot mess, and I refuse to post any pictures from our stay in the line, except for this cutie picture.  Obviously, Irish men have advanced in height over the years, because our Irish men definitely don't fit in the castle hallways of yonder year (and shorter men).  Rebecca, however, does.

After about an hour in line, we reached the top of the castle, and the Blarney stone.  Boy, they have this experience down to a science.  A quick-witted, flirty, elderly Irish fellow keeps up a constant commentary of what to do...and helps you along the way so that not a moment in wasted.

I remember how surprised I was the first time I saw the Blarney stone.  I imagined it as some monolith in the middle of a verdant field, ready for the kissing.  No.  It's actually the bottom of a large stone wall at the top of the castle.  To reach it, you must lay on your back with your head stretching behind, grab the rails to pull yourself even further down, and kiss it.  Even then, you might only kiss the air as your nose jams up against the rock.  You can see the green ground several floors below in the pictures.  The elderly gentleman mentioned before?  To prevent you from falling to your death (because the iron bars must not be good enough security), he grabs your shirt if you are a gentlemen, and your waist if you are a lady.  That would be fine and all, except he likes to make commentary to the ladies about kissing other things...like him!  Oh my goodness, only the Irish can get away with humor like that...and I loved every minute of it!

It was really so much fun, and to pay back my sweet umbrella lady for her kindness, I waited to capture her picture for her on her camera.

After this, we were rather tired and certainly cold.  Thankfully, Blarney Woolen Mills was just down the road, and they didn't disappoint with their delicious Irish food.  It was so perfect after a long day, and in fact, I wolfed it down so fast that I didn't take a picture of my Irish stew.  We then headed over to the actual store where John bought me the softest, warmest Avoca scarf.  We finished the day with some Irish ice cream and headed to our hotel for the night.  Once again, life felt just about perfect on the Emerald Isle.