Kissing the Blarney Stone

Thirteen years ago, I kissed the Blarney stone for the first time. A little on the superstitious side, I didn’t want to negate the gift of the gab. Does kissing it twice mean you lose the gift? Not something I wanted to risk.

Blarney is a 15th century castle, a complete tourist trap, and it’s not in great repair. The staircases are in better shape, but of course there are no floors on any of the central levels (they were made of wood and rotted long ago). The bedchambers within the side turrets had stone floors, and aside from being a tripping hazard, those rooms were within fairly good shape. My husband leaned back and kissed the Blarney stone; then we both enjoyed the stunning views of the countryside.

Afterwards, we walked through the gardens. My favorite tree was the gnarled walnut. To me, it conjures up fairytales. Another favorite place for me was Blarney Manor. It was a Victorian mansion right in the middle of the lands, complete with horses. I swear, I can just picture this as a haunted house, can’t you?

But what made me roll my eyes was the desperate attempts to make tourist attractions out of random objects. A set of stairs to a lower garden became “Wishing Steps.” And my favorite? A large boulder that fell upon some smaller stones was called a Dolmen. Sorry, but a Dolmen has a very particular shape, almost like a pagan altar (see here). It does not look like a landslide. My husband and I joked around whenever we saw rocks after that. “Look, honey! It’s a Dolmen!” :woot:Now this is a real Dolmen.

Within walking distance of Blarney Castle is Blarney Woolen Mills, aka the Walmart of Irish sweaters. I had a marvelous time spending far too much money. And of course, when we arrived at our bed and breakfast, we discovered a coupon for 10% off. Doesn’t that just figure?