Corn on the Cobh...and Cork

So, I need to admit straight-away that the title of this post is complete nonsense. Cobh is not actually pronounced like a corn on the cob, but, instead, if you pronounced the title correctly it would be "corn on the cove," which I am pretty certain doesn't exist. The "bh" in Irish can either make a "w" or "v" sound, which makes perfect sense. English is also another logical language: goose = geese --> moose = meese?
Now that that is taken care of and understood, we can pick up where we left off, which was on our Cork adventure right as we were leaving Blarney. After we took a short bus ride back to the center of Cork, we headed to The Old English Market. This market is extremely similar to the Reading Terminal Market in Philadelphia, which also happens to be one of my favorite places in the world, so this place really couldn't go wrong in my eyes. I am a little jealous they have this in Cork because they had a lot of great stalls I would absolutely shop at for groceries if it was in Galway.
The first place that lured me in was this stall with all of these crazy flavored macaroons/macarons, such as blueberry, lavender, and blackcurrant & violet. Now, I have a confession to make. Side Note: Is this how Catholics feel when they go to confession? Confession: Until I wrote about 3 sentences before this one, I didn't know the difference between a macaroon and a macaron. I don't know who the sick mastermind was that created two desserts with almost the exact same spelling, but I'm sure they will get what's coming to them one day. I was a bit baffled when I was looking in at the colorful little rows in the case the case thinking, "Isn't there supposed to be coconut in these?" In actuality, I bought a Bailey's flavored macaron, (just for Dot!), which is much different than a macaroon, but still quite delicious. If I can't share my moments of stupidity with you, Internet-world, I can't share it with anybody.

They look like mini dessert cheeseburgers!
Photo courtesy of www.davidlebovitz.com.

After the petite sugar sandwich, also known as a macaron, I became fixated upon this place called O'Flynn's Gourmet Sausages. They have over 30 varieties you can buy to make at home, but I couldn't take my eyes, or my nose, off the ones on the grill. As soon as I got the chance I jumped in line to buy myself one of these masterful creations. Not feeling particularly adventurous, I opted for a traditional sausage sandwich with some sort of garlic sauce. Delectable! Unfortunately, I do not have photographic documentation of this macaron and sausage sandwich because I basically just unhinged my jaw and ate them whole like some sort of human-snake, (I speak Parseltongue), since I was ravenous.

After more exploring of the city we started to head back to our hostel for a little rest and relaxation before heading out again. On the way back we stopped at University College Cork. The night before we passed it, and it looked very beautiful, so we wanted to check it out. I actually liked UCC's campus better than National University of Ireland, Galway, which is where I go to school, but I still like Galway better! UCC had more of that college-y vibe, maybe because it is a four year university, whereas at NUIG, students graduate in three years. I'll be writing more about school stuff a little later on.

UCC with its fancy-schmancy, pretentious lighting.

We all took to our bunks and ended up in exhausted mini-comas, (the first comas of the night). Much later than we planned, we headed to a place called Kelly's for some traditional Irish fare. None of us had a full Irish dinner before, and this one certainly did not let us down. The restaurant was a little odd. I can't place my finger on exactly why it felt strange, but the food definitely made up for it, so it's odd feel is a moot point.  For 15 euro, you got your choice of appetizer, entree, dessert, and the complimentary brown bread. I decided on potato & leek soup for an appetizer, which went down great with the bread, baked chicken and ham with stuffing covered in gravy with a side of veggies and mashed potatoes for dinner, and for dessert, I got hot apple sponge cake with a dollop of cream on top. Remember when I mentioned the first coma? This meal led to the second one.

I forgot to take a picture of the meal.
Photo courtesy of www.sodahead.com.

The next day was another early morning, which is my favorite thing in the world. We wanted to get up early enough to get to see the seaside town of Cobh, (remember how to pronounce it from earlier?), in its entirety before heading home to Galway. We took the train to Cobh, and got there around 11:30, but could really only stay until 1:30. Luckily for us, Cobh doesn't have that much to see. Don't get me wrong, it's a lovely town, but it isn't very large, so it doesn't require a huge time investment.

Aw, Cork! You're so tiny and cute! Like a little baby city!

I'm sorry this looks like a hipster took it. It was an accident.

We decided to walk along the street running parallel to the coast since that appeared to house most of the storefronts. Everything seemed pretty calm around the town though, most likely because it was Sunday. On Sundays here, generally a lot of the smaller stores shut down, which I think is kind of nice since Sunday is supposed to be a day of rest. Anywho, in addition to the stores, restaurants, and pubs, there are also some plaques around with some historical references. Cobh was actually the last port-of-call for the Titanic before it set sail. Of course, then, this led to many instances of what I term, "pulling a Kate Winslet."

Someone apparently designed this memorial, but I don't know how creative you have to be to slap a plaque on a rock.

Kate never wore a backpack that amazeballs.
Photograph courtesy of Monica.

Also along the coast is a little park that you can just sit on a bench and look out at the ocean. And when I say sit on a bench, I mean you can sit on one bench, or two benches, or three benches, or four. If you sat on all of the benches in this park your butt would be completely numb. My guess is that benches are extremely similar to rabbits in that they reproduce very quickly when placed in small, enclosed surroundings. It may be best in the case of this park to have an organized hunt in order to bring down the population in the area.

LOOK AT THEM ALL!!! WHY ARE THERE SO MANY?!?!

After being baffled by the benches, we headed up the hill to try and explore the beautiful church watching over the quiet town. It was a struggle, but my lazy bum finally managed to make its way up to the top, and it was definitely worth it. St. Colman's sits atop the hill, like some sort of protector over the town. Since it was a Sunday morning the bells were tolling and the Irish families, young and old, were all heading in. We didn't want to intrude upon this event, so we relegated ourselves to merely observing the outside, which was exquisite architecture. You can't get much more cathedral-ey than St. Colman's.

St. Colman's towering over Cobh...like a boss.

The mean streets of Cobh take pleasure in showing me how out of shape I am.

Look! You can just catch a glimpse of Quasimodo's hump!

Now the moment you have all been waiting for, you little chunky monkeys. THE FOOD! Obviously when going to a seaside town, there is nothing more satisfying and tasty than getting seafood. And the mother of all seafood dishes is the fried spectacular-ness of fish and chips. I don't think it is necessary for me to really describe to you fish and chips as it is pretty straightforward, but I do want to convey how fresh and flaky the fish was. Additionally, I have now learned that you can always trust that a place has good food if it doesn't have a legitimate name. Honestly, the place just said "Bistro" on the awning, but no name to speak of.

"Envy" must be your middle name right now. Or Elizabeth. There's a lot of people with the middle name Elizabeth.

After lunch we went back to Cork to make sure that we made our bus back to Galway. We had plenty of time, though, so I made a push to go to this hot chocolate place I was interested in checking out. And by "interested in checking out," I mean I would have thrown a hissy fit complete with falling on my knees and pounding the ground if we didn't make it there. Luckily, my friends appeased me and we were on our way to O'Conaill's Chocolate Shop. You could come here every day for a month and not try all of the possibilities that they have for hot chocolate. They have milk chocolate, dark chocolate, white chocolate, chocolate lover's, shots of flavoring that can be added, basically anything you can imagine. They also give you a little cup of chocolate chips. I didn't really know what to do with them, so I just unceremoniously dumped them in. I can honestly say it was the best hot chocolate I have ever had. The best description I can give is to have you think of melting chocolate, putting it in a mug, and drinking that. -Bam- The best hot chocolate you have ever had.

The hot chocolate was so thick the chips I poured in looked like they were being sucked into quicksand.

Looking into the eyes of my newly found soulmate.

Everyone seemed to be pretty beat, but there were a few more places I wanted to check out, but rather than dragging them all over Cork I set out by myself. Most of you reading this know me, so it will come as no surprise to you that I am, in actuality, a skinny-obese person. That being said, there were two places that I had in mind to get to before the bus left: a candy shop with ridiculously cheap sweets and the Cork Butter Museum. Yes, you read me correctly, a butter museum. I'm not going to drag this on much longer because I feel it's only fair for me to tell you that even though I was able to find both places, I was able to go in neither of them. While it was disappointing not to be able to go in either, just seeing the word "BUTTER" written in big block letters on the side of the building was enough to set my heart aflutter. Or that may be the heart disease...

My, and Paula Deen's, version of Heaven.

The Chronicles of Blarnia...and Cork

In this post I was debating over whether to write about classes here or to write about my weekend trip to Cork. Since I have a memory similar to Dory's in Finding Nemo, I thought I could tell ye, (I'm trying to force Irish to rub off on me), about my Cork adventure.

Just one of many opportunities for me to confess my love for Ellen Degeneres.

We trekked to the bus station on Friday afternoon to make our way to Cork. And by we, I mean Cayla, Lauren, Nicole, Rachel, and I. Here are those classy broads:

For some reason they had me stand out of sight behind that tree on the left. What sillyheads!

We arrived in Cork about 3 1/2 hours later, got off the bus, looked around, and then realized that we had no idea where we were going, so that was a good start. Luckily for us, we had a saint of a bus driver. He was done his route, but he offered to take us to the hostel where we had a reservation. If it wasn't for his kindness, I'm pretty sure that we would still be walking around Cork looking for our hostel.

Now, my previous experience with hostels has been watching the movie Hostel, which, if you have never seen it can be summed up with its tagline, "Welcome to your worst nightmare." So, naturally, I was optimistic. I had every reason to stay that way, though, because the hostel that we stayed at, the An Oige Youth Hostel, was very clean, pretty inexpensive, and a great place for my first experience. The six of us were able to stay together in one room, and they didn't put anyone else in with us, so there was no chance of staying with a wack-a-doo (besides me). Since we got in late, a lot of the food places had closed, so that first night was primarily about questing for food. I'm sorry to report that we ended up at a pretty standard pizza place, but don't worry, the food descriptions will get much better later.

They keep the torture chamber out back.

Making beds is for squares.

We decided to get a fresh start the next day by journeying to Blarney, home of the Blarney Stone. Now, because everything on the Internet is completely 100% true, I cannot lie to you, my faithful blog readers of 3, now 4!, posts, (and Rachael Giordano, who demanded a shoutout). It is true that I did not want to see or kiss the Blarney Stone. -GASP- I know, I know. It is one of the places that the travel books pretty much say you are required to go to if you ever visit Ireland, but I just thought it would be extremely touristy. Shockingly, I really loved the Blarney Estate, though I stood my ground and I refused to kiss the rock. Call me old-fashioned, but the Blarney Stone is going to have to take me out to dinner and a movie first.

We took a short bus ride to the town of Blarney, which appears to be condensed around one green square. Small signs pointed us to the building where we could enter. My preconceived notion of what consisted of seeing the Blarney Stone was just that you pay your money, go into the castle, walk up the stairs, kiss the promiscuous rock, are insulted when it doesn't kiss you back, and then you leave, (albeit with the bitter knowledge that you have just had another failed relationship). Simple, right? In actuality, there are a ton of things to do at Blarney Castle. I probably could have spent the entire day there.

One street in Blarney.

The other street in Blarney. That's it.
...
Just kidding. There's a little bit more to Blarney than that.

After you pay your entrance fee, you stroll up this gravel path with a creek running alongside, and there is this great, lush meadow on your right that is so stereotypical of Ireland, and then on your left is this green area filled with trees, winding paths, and other shrubbery. Then, you look up, and through the trees you start to see an outline of a castle coming through. And that is, you guessed it, Blarney Castle. The path leads you right up to the bottom of the castle where you stare up at this monstrosity wondering why anyone would ever choose to storm a castle.

Doesn't it just make you want to frolic?

Shrubbery: Provided by the Knights who say Ni.

Closer, closer...

BAM!

At the bottom of the castle, there are a few things that visitors can explore before completing the main event. You can look into the caves, which are blocked off, and the dog kennels, but one really neat thing that you can do is go into the dungeons. I think the people who made the map must be using the term dungeon loosely, because to me it seemed more like the tunnel in The Count of Monte Cristo that Edmond Dantes uses to escape from his prison, rather than the prison itself. There were no rooms, only a tunnel that constricted more as you advanced farther in to lead to a little baby cavern that people, ever so thoughtfully, defaced with their signatures. Only Lauren and I made it to the end, though I'm not sure how after I started hyperventilating a quarter of the way through after Lauren nonchalantly commented, "Could you imagine if this caves in?" She's a good roomie in that way.

Beneath that fallacious smile is pure fear.
Photo courtesy of Lauren.

Thank goodness that I know that "MACK" was here.

I was feeling a bit like Golem from the Lord of the Rings.
Photo courtesy of Monica.

Next stop: The main event! We ascended up into Blarney Castle where, of course, a gift shop awaits you! After that you get to take a lot of interesting detours to see all of the parts of the castle. It's really amazing to see the quarters in which people actually lived, because we simply don't have that kind of history in the United States. I was interested in looking at all the details of the castle because of my major in anthropology, as well as one class that I am taking here at the university that looks at the development of the castle.

An arrow loop where archers could shoot attackers. Solution: Don't storm a castle.

If you miraculously get past the archers, through the gate, and into the castle, you can expect a burning oil shower from this murder hole.
Makes you nostalgic for the days of yore, doesn't it?

The living room: The family probably did not spend much time here because there appears to be no television.

We eventually reached the top with the use of these massively steep winding stairs, but the top was quite a view and definitely worth the worrying ascent. And, then, the moment of truth. Everyone started poppin' in the Altoids, because it was time to pucker up. I was designated as photographer due to my fun-sucking nature. While I was getting ready, (finding the right angle, lens, lighting, you know, stuff professional photographers like myself have to deal with), one of the gentleman who works up there told me not to block the camera. Apparently, and I found this very funny, they have a camera set up that is exactly like the ones that they have on roller coasters. It takes your picture as you're going in for the big smooch, and then, when you get back down to the gift shop, you can purchase a bajillion dollar picture of yourself being held by an elderly Irish man as you are laying upside down over a 5-story drop with your face smashed up against a wanton wall that the locals have urinated on. Documentation of a life-changing event like that is pretty essential I would say. Anyway, all of the girls were successful in kissing the Blarney Stone, although I have seen no marked increase in their gift of gab over the last few days of my careful scientific observation.

This place is disgusting! Where is all the beautiful pollution?!?

Another hideous display of nature.

Just one of the Blarney Stone's many suitors.

Just another example of my great photographic prowess.

Look at them, they are all so happy to have gotten MRSA.
Photo courtesy of Rachel.

After we made our way back down, we checked out the pictures, decided none of us had a bajillion dollars to spend, and then proceeded to the Poison Garden. The garden housed all different kinds of plants that were inedible, untouchable, unsmellable for fear of being poisoned. I'm surprised they didn't tell you not to look at some of them or they would burn your eyes. Even though it was interesting to look at all the plants there, we were all laughing over the lack of one plant: Marijuana. I think the picture below can tell the full story.

This wouldn't have happened if Ralph Nader were President. Oh right, wrong country.
Photo courtesy of Rachel.

This is for all you Harry Potter nerds out there.

Pshhh, poison. I think Professor Lupin would heartily disagree with you.

I don't mean to brag, but I'm pretty hardcore. I once listened to a Rise Against song.

The next stop on my Blarney Castle tour, and my personal favorite stop, was the Rock Close. Now, you may be wondering what a rock close is, and I can confidently answer you that I still have no idea. But, it was really neat, so it doesn't matter! First, you start out by walking over this bog with a cluster of waterfalls. Then, the path loops to come out behind the waterfall, and before you appears this large rock structure called a dolmen. All kinds of vocabulary words today! After that comes the Wishing Steps that require you to walk down backwards and then back up with your eyes closed while only thinking of your wish. If you do so, your wish will come true within the next year. There is obvious truth to this activity, so of course I participated.

They call this the Niagara Falls of Ireland.

Hmmm, a giant rock resting on another giant rock. We should probably walk under it.

"I wish I don't fall down the stairs, I wish I don't fall down the stairs..."

 If you believe in faeries, fauns, magic, or anything along those lines, this next section is your cup of tea. It reminded me of a setting straight out of Pan's Labyrinth. I just think it is so fascinating that nature can form itself into certain ways that can look so beautiful and ethereal.

How does a tree grow like that?!?

Contrary to popular belief, this was not the dungeon.

The nymphs and druids were a little camera-shy.

The last major stop that we made was to the Blarney House. "House" in one sense connotes that maybe it will be a petite cottage, perhaps with a thatched roof, tucked away in some small glen. What the Blarney people mean is the Blarney HOUSE. The pictures should be pretty self-explanatory. Unfortunately, we were unable to go in, but the house from the outside was amazing to look at itself. I'm not sure of the year, or even the era, it was built, but I know that they don't build houses like that anymore.

Oh, that doesn't look that big...

Oh my God, it's massive!!!

There was a sign on the front door that said, "Entrance Only Given To 1%."

After the Blarney House, there was a lot more area that could have been explored. The estate has various gardens, a lake, and two long trails which allow for a nice walk. The group decided it may be best to skip the walks because our tummies were getting a little rumbly and our legs were going to fall off.

I imagine that we probably were very lucky going when we did to see Blarney, because in the months when tourists usually come it is probably a mad house, so by going early in the day and in the off-season, we most likely enjoyed it more.

Like a boss.

So, I just decided to end this post right there because (1) it was getting long and I don't know how much longer I can keep your attention and (2) the sugar from that Cadbury candy bar I binge ate earlier has worn off and my bed is looking uber comfy. I'll just say one last thing to keep you on the edge of your seat and coming back to read my next post: It involves murder, infidelity, matricide, patricide, regicide, kidnapping, and one deliciously exquisite cup of hot chocolate.

Good cause, but that's one crazy-eyed canine coin-collector.