Blarney Stone, Shannon Malone!

I'm not sure how much of the last few days I can even remember. It's been a whirlwind.

A few nights ago we stayed at the Lake Hotel, which is Ireland's answer to Kellerman's. Our friendships last long as the mountain stands. I sent my parents off to town on their own, and had a little alone time at the hotel bar. I ordered some wine and bruschetta and hunkered down to journal. About a half hour later, sipping on my wine, the bartender asked me something. I had to apologize to him that I was having a difficult time with his accent. He asked again if I wanted the check. I said that would be fine, but inquired if my dinner was coming. "You ordered food?" he asked. "Yes, bruschetta please," I responded. "Oh, love, I'm so sorry, I guess I'm having a difficult time with your accent." I had the best belly laugh I'd had in ages and we became instant friends. He even invited me to the horse races. I also had a lovely time chatting about education and politics with two English teachers from Germany. It's amazing how refuge in a glass of spirits can connect the soul...and lift the spirit.

Two days ago brought a visit to Blarney Castle. Yes, I kissed it. Yes, I was taking my life in my hands in every sense of the word. Yes, I've yet to test out if it has really made me more eloquent. Judging by this post, I'm having a hard time believing it has. Perhaps I washed off the magic when scrubbing my lips moments after smooching the stone. From Blarney, we drove to Cahir, which is the hometown of my childhood priest, Fr. Harry Walsh. We even got to talk to Fr. Harry's sister-in-law (his brother was out golfing.) There's something transcendental about eating in your great-great grandfather's pub (Malone's) next to your great-great grandmother's clothing store (Sheehan's) in the hometown of the man that gave you your first communion. From there we drove on to Cashel, and stayed in a lovely B&B built in 1790. Did I mention our room had a castle view?

We went to check out the castle, The Rock of Cashel/St. Patrick's Rock, in the morning. Something to do with St. Patrick. I was too busy talking with the tour guide about his plans to go teach English in Abu Dhabi. Most Irish 20-somethings leave their small towns for university in the bigger cities (Denis went to Limerick). Then they go live abroad for a few years before returning to their hometowns. I guess you can't really stay away from a place that has a castle, now can you?

Last night we stayed at a hotel outside of Dublin. We were all far too tired to try to stuble upon a place for dinner in the 'burbs, so ate at the hotel restaurant. Our adorable waitress, Jurgita (Heer-GI-tah), was Lithuanian (so many Lithuanians here!). We were trying to figure out what the brown sauce on the table was (we did eventually decide it's similar to barbecue). I asked Jurgita if she knew what it was. Her response? "Zat ees ver deefeecult qvestion becose ay don't noh." Favorite quote of the trip.

Today we walked around Dublin and saw the Book of Kells. It is absolutely breathtaking. However, I have to say I like the Book of Durrow better. Perhaps that's because it's from County Offaly like me. One more day in Dublin, then off to Paris on Monday!