It's all Blarney to me.

Well my goodness. Hello! I have to say, blogging is kind of a daunting task right now because I have an incredible amount to say, but not much time or energy to say it with. I've come to terms with the fact that I will have to write about England and France when I get home to California. There's too much going on every day to spend time reminiscing about days previous. I know that means that much of the interest will be gone, readers-at-home-wise, because I'll be back and you can ask me in person by then. But this blog has been for me more than anyone, if I'm being honest, because writing is how I process and organize my jumbled thoughts and memories. So the stories of last week will be here, eventually, for those of you who are interested in reading them. I'd just rather focus on Ireland while I'm here for the next three days.

Three days! I can't believe that. The thought of going home is just really strange now. It's not a bad strange, as in "I'm not ready to go back yet"... but it's also not a "I'm so happy to call this adventure over!"-strange, either. It's just a sort of surreal awareness that whatever I was looking for when I set out on this trip hasn't been found yet - but maybe I've gotten closer.

Maybe that's even a more mature way of looking at this whole traveling thing. After past travels, I've always hit a sort of post-adventure depression upon returning home, because I felt like everything would just go back to boring old normalcy. But really, if you stay anywhere long enough, you'll lose the rose-colored glasses and you'll have to deal with things that may not be as fun or carefree. It's odd that I had to live in Europe for two months to realize that it really doesn't matter where you are - even though beautiful scenery is a nice plus. It really only matters what you're doing. Which means, it's not California that has an un-rosy, boring normalcy. That's what I allowed it to become. So even if I haven't quite discovered the secret to being completely content in one place, I suppose I'm slowly figuring out the way to get there.

I guess that's a fairly good lesson to come away with.

Anyway. Let's see... today was a nice laid back day. It was my last Sunday at Adelaide Road Presbyterian, which is a pity. I've really enjoyed being at that church - the people there are so nice! It was fun getting to show Kate off - I mean, introduce her - to all the people I've met over the past two months. We really are much better as a pair, I think. Kate and Amelia both. I feel more like myself when I'm with either of them than when I'm on my own - which is a bit sad, really... but there it is. I've missed feeling like my whole self these weeks, and it's been great to be "complete" again since Kate and I found each other in London. (Heathrow - AGH. But that's another story.) After church we had "wraps" for lunch, and then Ray dropped me and Kate off at the harbor in Dun Laoghaire (after we made a run to the store for some batteries). It's been freezing cold and terribly windy here this week, and today has been the worst yet - which, of course, meant that Kate and I had to go and lurk about the seashore. The air was completely drenched with ocean spray and sea foam, as the waves hit parts of the rocks and pavement that I've never even seen get wet. At one point we were standing near the railing of the footpath, just talking, and a huge wave came up, crashed on the rocks next to us, and completely drenched Kate's back and my side. The fact that it hit the side of my face actually has been kind of concerning me this evening - the whole rest of the time that we were out, my ear was numb and throbbing. So I'm really praying that I don't get an ear infection or pneumonia or anything... but yeah. I should be fine. It was good for a laugh, at any rate, and it makes my point that the weather here has been pretty crazy. Sheesh! Nature! What a crazy world. The more I look at how the world works, the more I'm in awe of how majestic and beautiful and terribly violent nature really is. It's so cool! And it's hard to remember that, in sunny California where the temperature only varies about 20 degrees... but still. What a fascinating place our planet is.

So I showed Kate the sights of Dun Laoghaire and the (usually tranquil) beach where I've often gone to read or eat raisin bread and watch the sailboats. We then waked back to Dalkey, and I showed her the village... and then we headed back home for dinner, a few cups of tea, and some TV with the family.

I'm going to move back in time a bit now, and write about Blarney. After Kate and I got back from Paris on Thursday, we spent the night in Dalkey and then caught a 10:00 bus from Dublin to Cork the following morning. The bus ride took 4 hours and 45 minutes, but we drove through some incredible parts of the country (and saw 3 or 4 castles, including the Rock of Cashel - which is AMAZING, and we saw it up close!). Kate and I both had our ipods and so we listened to music and stared out the windows the whole time, and pinched each other on the arm when we felt too happy to keep to ourselves. We got into Cork at almost 3, and suddenly had the terrifying realization that we had no idea how to get to our B&B in Blarney. I knew the name of it... and I knew there was a bus from Cork to Blarney that we could hop on. But past that... we were a bit lost. So we hopped on the bus and rode a half hour - and I was praying all the way that I'd be able to find it, because I felt really stupid for not planning better. Then, lo and behold, on a country rode just outside of town, I saw a sign pointing towards an expanse of field that said "Lanesville B&B". A minute before, someone had hit the "stop" button and the driver pulled over shortly after. Kate hadn't seen the sign, but she believed me and we hopped off the bus. As the bus pulled away, it hit me that if I was wrong about the sign, then Kate and I had just lost our ride... but we walked back toward the sign and hoped for the best. Long story short, I was right - and we followed the signs for about a mile through the back country roads (including some cow pastures and school yards) until we reached a nice little house with an envelope bearing Kate's name taped to the door. Thus armed with our key and a warm little welcome note, we made our way up to our room (which had a beautiful view of the countryside and some cows, which excited Kate very much). Also, shortly after the owner arrived and showed us around and gave us some tips (and bus schedules). Aside moment for an advertisement: if you ever go to Blarney, stay at the Lanesville B&B. It was a lovely, clean little place, a close enough distance to Blarney Castle (less than a mile out of the "town"), the home-cooked breakfast was FANTASTIC and the family that runs the place is lovely. Also, Bryan (the owner) drove us into town twice, which was really nice. I think even the fact that our room had two beds instead of one (apparently I steal the blankets... but Kate hits.) was enough to make us love the place.

So after we checked in, like I said, Bryan dropped us off in town so that we could get some dinner. On the way down, he gave us a nice little speech about the different restaurants in town (there are 4, not counting all the pubs) and who was serving what kind of fish, and so on. Kate and I listened politely, exited the car, and headed into a supermarket where we bought a loaf of bread, some fresh ham, white cheddar, an apple pie, and a few Guinness'. We then sat on a big old tree stump in the village park and ate our dinner, while a pack of nearby crows hunted for worms. Kate was feeling incredibly poetic after our long day, and gave me a shpeel about how Oswald (the biggest crow, and the mangiest, in my opinion) was doing "just what he was made to do". Well, Oswald the Mangy Crow could have his worms - more power to him. I, however, was doing exactly what I was made to do, and fortunately my sandwich, pie and Guinness was doing the same.

Shortly after dinner, we realized that we'd made a terrible mistake. Upon our arrival, y'see, Bryan had told us that their credit-card machine wasn't working yet, so we'd have to pay in cash. Only, neither of us had that much cash, so we'd meant to bring a credit card down to town when he dropped us off. Well, guess what two people hadn't brought their credit cards? So, after we finished dinner, we walked the 3/4's mile back to the B&B, got my card, walked BACK the 3/4's mile to town, asked everyone and their mother where to find an ATM machine, and finally found one on a wall near a bar called Christy's after stopping in four different places and getting stopped by a man in a jeep who asked if we knew where the Parish Priest lived. Fortunately, though, the bad weather was on the East side of the island this whole time, so our 3 or 4 mile jaunt that evening existed in the warming light of the setting late-spring sun and the fresh smell of good dirt and grassy fields. Also, whenever I get tired of walking and start to think about my aching feet or back... I just smile and think, instead, about how good I'll feel in a bathing suit this summer. :)

So that was Friday. On Saturday, we woke at 7:30, got ready for the day and went down to breakfast at 8. I love European hotels/B&B's that serve breakfast. Maybe it's just the fact that someone else is providing food for you - or maybe the food here really is just magic. In either case, it's enough to make your day seem bright from the get-go. Two full plates and six cups of coffee (between the two of us) later, we re-packed our possessions into our one bag and Bryan dropped us at the door of Blarney Castle.

What a fantastic place! We spent almost 4 hours wandering around there. And because it was early on a Saturday morning, and not quite tourist season yet, we were the first people into the gates - which meant, that we were also the first people that 28th day of April to kiss the famed Blarney Stone. The light was still gorgeous across the wild landscape of the parks surrounding the castle, which made it really easy to believe that some sort of magic did (or does) exist in that spot. I don't mean that in a cheesy way, at least not as cheesy as it sounds... but when you're in places like that, with so much beauty and history around you, it's hard not to feel like there's more to a landscape than meets the eye. We didn't rush past any of it, by any means, but we did make our way to the top of the Castle as reasonably quickly as we could - I was having a hard enough time convincing Kate that it was okay to kiss a rock that thousands of other people have kissed, and I knew I'd lose her interest if we had to wait in a long line to do it. After ascending some treacherously narrow and winding stairs, we found ourselves standing on the walk around the castle walls, open to the air and far above the trees and creeks around us. Two men - the older one kneeling next to a hole in the floor and the younger one standing near a camera and tripod - were the only people up there before us. We approached them cautiously and I urged Kate forward, before she could think to back out of it. You should see the picture I got of her, laying on her back, head and torso upside-down through the opening in the castle's wall... one hand clutching the bar (the one you're supposed to hold), and the other hand holding onto the old man's arm for dear life. hahaha. It was a fantastic thing to witness. Kate was in and out of there in about .2 seconds, so then it was my turn. It's actually slightly alarming, once you're upside down, sliding down the rubber mat, with only a sheer drop and a few metal bars to keep you from becoming a permanent part of the landscape. For a brief second I was worried that I'd kiss the wrong stone, but a few inches later I found a rock that looked different than any of the others - and I planted one on it. When I pulled myself up, the old man (the one who holds your stomach while you're down there, apparently...) made some comment to the other fellow about how I kissed the rock like I loved it. Or something like that. I didn't quite hear him, so I think I just looked really confused, and he told me, "Ah, ye can't take life too seriously! Y'know!" And with my new-found eloquence, I told him, "I don't think I'm taking it too seriously... I just kissed a rock!"

Well. After that, we explored the castle for a bit, and then wandered off to explore the grounds. You only ever hear about the Stone - you never hear about the gorgeous gardens, or the lake, or the horses (one of which bit Kate.. hahahahhaaha. I mean, I'm a good, caring sister. Really.), or the electric fences (which ALSO got the better of Kate... slightly tied in to the horse incident, really), or the nearby gorgeous Victorian house that people still live in, or the big ancient towers that you can climb on and enjoy your last bit of apple pie and Guinness from, or the many other "lucky" landmarks aside from the Stone. There's a Dolman that you can walk underneath, to get in touch with your more magical-side, and there is also a rather treacherous staircase next to a waterfall called the Wishing Steps. Apparently if you can ascend and descend the stairs with your eyes closed without falling to your death or decapitating yourself on a certain low-hanging stone in the passageway at the top, and if you can concentrate on a wish throughout the whole process, your wish will come true. I'm not going to tell what I wished for, because that would be cheating - sort of like opening my eyes at the top to make sure my head stayed on my neck. But we'll see if I'm an accomplished writer in 50 years, and then maybe I'll tell you what I wished for. :)

Well shoot. This is long. I know more things happened, but I should wind it up because I promised to skype Mom soon. At 1:00, Kate and I caught a bus from Blarney to Cork, where we ate our lunch near the river and then wandered around the streets for awhile... when it started raining, we found a 200 year old Cathedral to go into (St. Finn Barre's. Not the most amazing Cathedral I've seen by far, but it was cool). At 4, we caught our bus to Dublin. The way to Cork was much more pleasant than the way back, we'll just say... namely due to a bus driver who played terrible music on the radio the whole time, with which our ipods couldn't compete. We got off at O'Connell Street, splurged and got some combo's from Burger King (I know, I know... but desperate times call for desperate measures. We needed those french fries.) and I showed Kate the sights while we headed toward the DART station, Dalkey-bound. We got in, had some coffee with Ray and Carole, and came back up to our room. Kate crashed around 11, but I was up for another few hours - too tired to write anything good, but not exhausted enough for sleep. Which will not be the case tonight! I plan on sleeping incredibly soundly, whether or not I steal the blankets or have to deal with Kate's sleep-violence.

Tomorrow will be fantastic. We're spending the day in Dublin, and going to the theater in the evening. Tuesday is coming up - my last evening of Carole's cooking. Sad that that's all I can think about, isn't it? paha. Anyway. Wednesday is coming soon. Crazy. You know, I'm glad. This has been an incredible journey - but I'm ready to have incredible journeys in the States, too.

Goodnight, folks. Have a good afternoon, California.