You Say Baloney, I Say Blarney

So --- Cork was disappointing. That's been said. Do I regret the trip? No way.

Rousing ourselves early Saturday morning, we dashed down to catch a bus to Blarney, about twenty minutes outside of Cork. It's a tiny little village with a beautiful town green, a few cafes, a school, and a post office. It's also home to one of the biggest tourist attractions in Ireland: the Blarney Stone.

Yes, it's all very cliche. But if the legends are true, and kissing the Blarney Stone really does impart "the gift of gab," then why not? We're screenwriters here --- we need all the eloquence we can get! The castle itself is just stunning. Few of my preconceived notions about Ireland have been challenged --- it absolutely is a country full of tiny towns, green fields, and random ruins scattered about. The Blarney Castle was built around the 11th century, but it was destroyed in 1446. The King of Munster rebuilt it, placing the legendary Blarney Stone at the top of the castle. And so it stands today!




We clambered up the stairs, holding tight to the stone walls. I'm so amazed by Carmen...completely afraid of heights, she went all the way to the top --- documenting the journey on her video camera! I couldn't be that brave.



So we kissed the stone. Check! Now we join the ranks of thousands of other overfed tourists who lay on their backs and lean over the edge to get a little piece o'luck. Don't cluck your cynical tongues at me, please. I fully embrace the tackiness of my ways. But that wasn't even the highlight of the trip!

I can say without hesitation that the gardens at Blarney Castle are the most beautiful place I have been in years. Perhaps even ever. Six of us girls went wandering through them, just stunned by the peace and the loveliness. The timelessness of the forest is almost supernatural --- it's peppered with these natural rock formations that have been around forever. An old circle of stones where druids used to walk. Deep streams that flow soundlessly between trees and underfoot. You can see perfectly to the bottom, where old willow branches and river weeds drift around. I held my hands underneath a waterfall and drank ancient water. Ancient water!

As quiet as the forest is, you never quite feel alone. It's so easy to understand how many fairy tales originated in Ireland. Something about the light, about the moss and the stone...it's another world. I honestly would not have been surprised to see a unicorn emerge from behind a clump of trees. We all had goosebumps --- realizing that as little girls, we had dreamed of playing princess in a place like this. To find it exists entirely and utterly as we imagined is mindblowing.