Douglas, Ireland-Day Two

Romancing the Stone

At English Market-Cork

Ron at Ballinspittle Overlook

August 28, 2007- Irish Hospitality?

The electric shower was one of the best we had as far as water pressure and ease of temperature control goes. It’s really a modern set up. But the stall was so tight my elbows kept hitting the sides. The opening into the stall was so small that David didn’t think he could get his belly out.

We were offered an Irish breakfast but all opted out of the ham and bacon part. Our host and hostess (Liam and wife) were odd. I think they tried to be gracious and helpful. When we finally found the B & B yesterday Liam had put an orange construction cone in a parking space reserving it for us. He never introduced himself to us and we wouldn’t have known his name but David introduced us to him. We never learned her name. Liam told us that there was WiFi and gave us the code but he’d never used it and couldn’t help when it didn’t work. He said his daughter used it when she was here. I would think that would be something he’d want to know so he could help his guests.

The laundry was another thing. It did get done but we gave it to them in two separate bags and emphasized that we wanted it kept separate. It came back all in one lump in plastic trash bag. We poured it out on a bed and played laundry toss-and-grab until we each had our own…maybe.

Lot of Blarney

We headed out for the tourist trap of Blarney, which is only six miles away. We had to go through Cork and noticed a Star of David on a building. It was the synagogue. There was no name but it was on the right street. We had a list of synagogues in Ireland.

Blarney turned out to be a delightful village with a requisite square. There’s a reason so many tourists go there. The castle built in 1210 is interesting and fairly well preserved. There is no roof or any floors but the walls are mostly intact. I’d debated whether to climb or not to climb. The other three all knew I would. They also knew I’d kiss the stone, sort of. We got there early enough to miss the tour buses so the climb of 147 tiny tower steps went quickly. Karen stayed behind. The kissing is a production line. The man who helps the kissers straddles the wall next to the stone. I sat on a rubber shower mat with my back to the wall. The straddler grabbed me and pushed me back telling me to grab onto the two iron poles as I grabbed for his shirt. I was upside down and face to face with a stone wall. Then he lowered me even further and ordered me to, “Kiss it!” I finally determined that The Stone was the smooth one but didn’t want to press my lips to what is rumored to have been spit on and worse. I opted for an Eskimo version of a kiss. I rubbed my nose on it. I did cheat and make a kissing sound so he’d know to pull me upright. I should now have the gift of gab unless by using my nose I turn into a “nosey parker. “ The kissing ritual is so efficient and automated that they have two cameras that are tripped as you go down and as you kiss. As I stood up another man handed me a ticket with a number on it. That was to claim my picture that was called up on the computer in the gift shop. Of course I bought mine.

The grounds are spectacular and we took the time to walk down the paths and through the groves of trees to a stately stone mansion that’s open for touring in the summer. Summer must be over here. It was closed.

The hoards of tour buses had arrived as we were leaving and were thrilled to be going against traffic. We shopped across from the castle at the Blarney Woolen Mill store. I found nothing I wanted since I don’t like to wear wool next to my skin and the prices of woolen outerwear were prohibitive.

Cork

We rolled into Cork in time for a late lunch at the Farmgate Café overlooking the elaborate English Market. There are 140 stands in the market. One stand has forty varieties of bread. We bought enough food for a modest rolling larder and won’t fear being stranded. One find was baby figs. They look like small nuts in a shell, but what looks like a shell is really the pale outer skin of an immature fig. They melted in my mouth.

The rest of the day we tooled around looking for the coastline. We wanted to sit on a bench and watch the waves roll in. On the map the town of Kinsale looked as if it was seaside but it was only on an inlet. We kept on to Ballinspittle because we liked the name of it. Every time we rounded a bend we thought it would open to a seascape. What we came upon were cows that had a better view of the ocean than we did and a trailer park. Karen couldn’t believe no one had offered these people money for developing the land into resorts. We finally found an outcropping at the end of a road and held our breath as Ron maneuvered and hung over the steep cliff to get the best pictures. There were no waves to lull us and there were no benches on which to sit. There was a golf club built out on the promontory with the best view. We learned that it once had been a public space with safe areas for children to ride bikes. Someone did sell out,

We spoke to Talia tonight. She LOVES kindergarten and LOVES riding the bus. She particularly likes the part of the day that is “free choice.”  The transition is made.

We’ll take a leisurely drive to Killarney tomorrow. It’s not far so we can explore as we want.

Toby