I realize that this blog is becoming less and less food-centered and more and more travel centered, but never fear: soon, I will be back to my kitchen–my favorite kitchen in the whole world: the Paziols kitchen, and there, you will be regaled, once again, of stories of meals for 25. Until then, though, please bear with me as I document my traipse through Ireland; I had no desire to start another blog just to tell these stories and post these pictures.
I try as hard as I can to mention food at least somewhat, even if I know that I’m mostly discussing my travels, but I’ll be up front with you all now when I say that today’s post has absolutely nothing to do with food. If you want to read recipes today, I suggest either perusing the archives or stopping by somewhere else. For those of you who want to see even more pictures of green, green and more green, stay right where you are: Blarney, home to the Blarney stone and the Blarney castle, is chock-a-block with green.
Coming to Ireland, I had two goals. “First, I want to meet Gerard Butler,” I told the CYF. “Or else his twin brother. And then, I want to see green bits.”
Sadly, Gerard Butler was not available, and I was thus incapable of living out my P.S. I Love You fantasies. The green bits, however, more than made up for it. We drove from Cork to Blarney in about fifteen minutes, parked the car, and for the next several hours, we treated the park and the castle as our personal playground; I wove daisy chains and the CYF attempted to climb trees.
We discovered several different places that are rumored to be filled with mysticism, like a circle of druid stones that allegedly protect you from evil spirits, like the witch who lives trapped in a rock until nightfall, when she roams around the empty castle and surrounding park.
The boys climbed several walls, as boys often do, and when we’d all had our fill of playing and exploring caves and caverns, we climbed to the top of the castle to kiss the Blarney Stone.
It took me two tries, but I managed to do it: I hadn’t expected to be forced to hang upside down several hundred feet above the ground in order to kiss the stone that, according to rumor, gave Winston Churchill his famous eloquence, but I did it. I’m not sure that I feel all that much more eloquent, but I’m quite pleased anyway.
