Ireland (Part 4): Day 4 was a full of blarney!

On the fourth day of our trip, we drove down to Blarney in Cork County.  We stayed at The Blarney Hotel and Golf resort which is only open during the summer tourist season.

 Our first destination in Cork County was Blarney Castle.

Our first order of business was to learn the definition of blarney.  Queen Elizabeth I tasked her emissary, George Carew, with convincing great Irish chieftain Cormac MacCarthy to accept the authority of the English throne instead of clinging to his ancient rights.  Each time Carew tried, MacCarthy would deliver eloquent speeches professing loyalty and flattering the queen, but he would never agree to any of her conditions.  Frustrated, Queen Elizabeth I exclaimed,"This is all blarney.  He never says what he means."

Once Queen Elizabeth had invented this new word, it found its way into literature and eventually became the name of MacCarthy's castle and the city in which it resides.

"Baloney is telling a 50-year-old woman she looks 18.  Blarney is asking a woman how old she is because you want to know at what age women become most beautiful."

 

The legend of the Blarney stone grew out of this story of MacCarthy's eloquent refusal.  A large stone is seated at the top of the castle. Some say the stone was originally Jacob's Pillow, brought to Ireland by the prophet Jeremiah.  There it was said to have provided oracular or prophetic powers to Irish kings. Legends also suggest that it was next moved to Scotland where it served as the Stone of Destiny.  When MacCarthy sent 4000 men to help Robert the Bruce defeat the English in 1314, the stone was supposedly split in half and sent to Blarney.  Folk tales suggest that when a witch was rescued from drowning, she revealed the secret of the stone:

"There is a stone there that whoever kisses, Oh! he never misses to grow eloquent."

What a ridiculous, silly tale, eh?  Yet, if you come to Blarney, you have to kiss the stone, they say.  Well, when I visited Buddhist temples in Japan as a student ambassador and was told that I was supposed to bow to Buddha, I would not dare defy my Lord in such a way no matter how it may have offended my hosts.  So I wasn't so sure about this silly custom.

Yet, we still climbed to the top of the castle and waited in line with all the other tourists, knowing full well that the only one who can tame this fiery tongue of mine is the one true God through His Spirit residing in me.

As we stood in line with the mobs of other dirty, germ covered people from all over the world, all I could think about was how gross it would be to put my mouth on something that had been kissed by thousands..perhaps millions of people.   Actually, I am not that germaphobic, relatively speaking, especially after listening to my husband repeat this theory that the reason our society is so sick is that we are too clean.   Kissing the stone requires hanging upside from the top of the castle tower high above the trees, yet I had hoped that I could be coordinated enough to spread some sanitizer over the portion of the rock where my lips would touch it.  The kind Irish man working at the stone recognized my concerns and then offered to clean the entire thing for me.  Yea!

The Irish infused plenty of humor into the Blarney Castle tour, especially in the signage.  At the entrance of the castle was a hole over a 15 meter deep pit.  A sign suggested that if a guest was not welcome in the castle, when the guest stepped over a certain paving stone over this pit, a guard would pull a catch on the wall causing the stone to turn so that the unwelcome guest dropped into the pit never to be seen again.  They called the pit an "oubliette", which is French for "to forget". More likely, the pit was a granary.

All the castles we toured had these same trapezoid shaped window sills which were ideal for castle defense.  Arrows could be shot out the window without the enemy easily striking the archer.

The gardens and grounds at Blarney Castle were simply breathtaking.  We were reminded of our earlier trip to Biltmore House this past winter and were amazed by the contrast.

 This next collection of photos includes a picture of Blarney City Square.  This big green field in the center of the busy city was so tranquil with families enjoying picnics on blankets or individuals relaxing under the trees with a good book.  We crossed this square to look for something to eat.

My husband and I were having one of those conversations one often has with his/her spouse at meal times after several years of marriage.

He asked, "Where do you want to eat?"
I replied, "I don't know...what would you like?  I want whatever you want." 
He answered, "You know I'll eat anything.  Tell me what you want."
(Repeat ad nauseum)

Then an elderly woman walked right up to us and said, "If you want the best food in Blarney, then you need to eat right there at the Purple Moon*".

*Or some name like that as my memory is failing me now that it's been over three months since our trip.  The restaurant was certainly decorated in lots of purple.  

So that settled the matter and put an end to our banter over where to eat.  Ask and you shall receive, amen?

Then this lady began telling us her ENTIRE.LIFE.STORY.  She was so precious.  She was a widow living meagerly off of her government stipend after spending most of her life cleaning houses for a living. She had such a big heart and gave away as much as she possibly could to anyone in need. She raised several boys and seemed lonely now that they were grown and gone.  She had several health concerns and was going in for tests the next day, so we prayed for her.  She hugged us many times and was absolutely adorable.  The town folk told us she was crazy, but I counted it a great blessing to meet this engaging Irish woman.  She was a woman of strong Catholic faith who despised what alcohol was doing to her country.  The paradox of Ireland being such a devoutly Catholic (south) or Protestant (north) nation, yet having so much of the nation's social life set inside a pub where moderation wasn't necessarily observed struck me, and she was the first one to admit the paradoxical problem.

Outside of the castle curtain wall is planted a poison garden.  This educational garden teaches visitors which plants to avoid, which parts are poisonous, and how they affect the human body. We saw the same plant, foxglove, that my daughter picked out for me for Mother's Day and planted beside our mailbox at our previous house.  Oops!  Thankfully, it's only harmful when eaten.

The most bizarre part of the Blarney estate was Rock Close.  Ireland has mystical Gaelic roots, so while this nation is mostly Catholic/Christian now, this part of the estate points to Irish Gaelic lore.  Inside of a gorgeous taxus baccata tree was a hallowed out cave with something in the corner they called the "witches oven". Above the cave was a mount of roots that looked like a chimney for the witches' oven.  Next to the cave set a rock shaped like the profile of a witch's face, which they fittingly named the Witches' Stone.

I posted this photo of my husband playing Superman with that rock on Facebook.  His mom, who was taking care of our kids for us during our trip, showed the photo to our children, and they immediately believed that their dad was a super hero who secretly goes out every night to save the world.


My favorite part of Rock Close were these awesome climbing trees which served as my hammock.