My housemates, one of my co-workers (Allison), a friend of one of my housemates, and I spent the weekend in Cork. And it was fantastic.
Friday was even good, considering that normally Fridays consist of my co-workers and I being super unproductive and counting down the minutes until 4. However, during work on Friday, Paul and I purchased tickets to go see an Olympic volleyball game while I am in London. I got so excited that I danced around the office a bit, sent my mother an e-mail in all caps, and Facebook messaged Mr. Wilson. (And there, Paul, you are in my blog. You happy now?) After work, Allison and I went to the Counter (the really good burger place with the cosmos) and met up with Kristen before heading over to Heuston to catch our 7 o'clock train.
Our train took about 3 hours, and when we got to Cork, we realized we had no idea where our hostel was. Typical when travelling with us, though. We can't have everything go according to plan. We didn't get hopelessly lost, fortunately. A man at the train station directed us initially, and then we found signs guiding us the rest of the way there.
Shelia's Hostel is one part of a long brick building, with blue lights on the outside. It's clean enough, although the rooms are a little cramped and have red iron bunk beds which look like they belong in a LEGO house. But really, it could have been a lot worse.
Everyone decided to wander around Cork for a little while except Kristen and Brianne who wanted to get to bed early. So after we settled in we set out. Just as we were leaving the hostel, we were greeted by a couple of very drunk Welshmen, one of whom was wearing a leopard-skin-print body suit. Anyways, the first order of business was food, as is our usual. We found a place called Hillbilly's, which claims they serve southern-style chicken. I'm not really sure if it was southern-style or not, but it was delicious. We then wandered to City Centre and walked along St. Patrick's Street, Grand Parade, and Merchant's Quay before heading back to Shelia's.
The next day we got up early to try and get a spot on the Paddywagon tour bus to Blarney, Cobh, and Kinsalle. That didn't really work out, so instead, we just took a bus to Blarney. It was about a half hour ride, but the scenery was pretty. A nice change of pace from Dublin. When we arrived at Blarney, we immediately went towards the castle. Blarney Castle is a really cool building. It's not particularly extravagant. I mean, in those times, it was a huge house, (and today it is still a huge place) but it's not as if we are looking at Versailles or anything. In any case, we wound our way up to the very top of it to go and kiss the Blarney Stone, which I guess gives you the eloquence to "clamber up to a lady's chamber, or be a member of Parliament." Well, thank God, I can now clamber up to a lady's chamber.
After the castle, we wandered around the grounds (this place is huge), and made our way over for a tour of Blarney House. Fun facts about the Blarney House. The Blarney House is actually still lived in my the Colthurst family, which the family that started living there in the 1700s (I think) after they kicked the McCarthy's off there land. The house is absolutely gorgeous, but I couldn't help resent the Colthurst family by acquiring it in such bloody imperialist means, but I think I was the only one who felt that way. All the other girls marveled at the the pretty shiny things.
We then stopped at the Stable Yard Cafe to grab some food (always eating, always), and wandered to the lake just beyond the house. It was super beautiful, but most of the girls I was with didn't really have the shoes for going on an extended walk, so we didn't stay too long. On our way back, we made friends with a pair of really cute horses and feed them some grass.
Our last stop before we went back to Cork was the Blarney Woolen Mills, where I got sweaters for my mom, Nana, and myself as well as a few other things. I shipped them back to the US, because there was no way in hell I would have enough room for them. They are so cozy; I am kind excited for it to be winter, just so I can wear mine.
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| Horsey friend |
Then, we went back to Cork, and when we got to our hostel, we found we had a new person in our room, a French-Canadian girl named Alex. Her English wasn't very good, and so when she didn't understand a question I asked, I asked it to her in French, and she told me my French was good. I am quite proud. Anyways, we napped for a little while and after, we all were motivated by hunger to get ourselves ready to go out. We stopped for dinner in a pub on a side street off St. Patrick. I have no idea what it was called, but it was really good. It had a good atmosphere for watching sports in and that kind of thing. Our waiter was a really nice guy, but I sure that was mostly because we were a group of American girls (and our French Canadian).
After our meal, we wandered around lost for a little bit, before finding An Brog, a pub off Oliver Plunkett St. When we got in there, a very drunk guy came up to us at the bar, started singing, dancing, and doing some weird thing with his hand where he would put the face of his palm over his mouth and wave his fingers at us. So we moved to the other side of the bar.
After a little while of talking, we left to go somewhere else. Eventually we ended up at a place called The Long Island, which was interesting. Lo and behold, who do we encounter, but the drunk Welshmen, who were getting pretty drunk. We found out that it was the guy in the leopard-skin-print body suit's stag party. So we spent the night there talking to them.
Allison and I decided to go back early, because we were tired. The rest of the group, including the Welshmen came with us, and stopped at a pizza by the slice place. Inside, a guy who was not with the stag party started talking to us, and asked us where we were from. I said my usual "outside Chicago" just because it is easier than saying Wisconsin. He then started asking me where outside Chicago, and I replied Wisconsin. He started giving me shit, being like, what are you saying outside Chicago, that's a whole different state, swing state and what have you. We started talking about American politics outside the pizza shop while everyone ate their pizzas. It was pretty awesome. He knew a surprising amount about the recall, the Elizabeth Warren campaign, and what have you. He also told me how he met Hillary Clinton and nearly died with excitement. I love how much the Irish love the Clintons. :)
Anyways, after finishing our pizza, we walked back to the hostel and got to bed. Well, most of us, did anyway. Kari's friend seemed to have had an interesting night, but I won't get into that, because if I do, I will start ranting about how stupid some drunk American girls can be, and that just won't be nice.
We woke up the next day to check out and then made our way over to Cobh (pronounced Cove and formerly known as Queenstown), but not before eating a yummy Irish breakfast. Cobh is a seaside, port town where many Irish went to emigrate to the States or Canada and what have you. It is a really beautiful town with all the harbour and everything. We spent most of our time there in the Heritage Centre going through the Titanic and Emigration Museum, which was pretty cool. Although, I am pretty sure that we were the youngest people in there.
We left for Cork at 3. After getting back, we walked around St. Patrick's Street for a little bit, went back to the hostel to pick up our stuff, and then got the 5:30 train back to Dublin Heuston. Long day of walking and travelling. And now I am back home doing my laundry (and potentially breaking one of the laundry machines...not my fault). I don't want to go to work tomorrow, but I guess that is part of being a real person. In any case, I am a lot to look forward to with these next couple of weekends, what with Paul visiting, Deener and Kellea visiting, going to London. and what have you.
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