Europe Day 37 of 59, Killarney to Cork

You might as well call day 37, "The Day of Castles and Food." We thought we'd covered all of the Killarney bases, but last night I looked at Wikipedia and spotted, "Ross Castle." Apparently, this castle sits not far away from our hotel on the shore of the lake. Our agenda today was just to drive to Cork an hour and a half away, so there was no reason to not pay Ross Castle a visit before hitting the road.

To think that we nearly missed this sucker. Sitting on the edge of the lake, Ross Castle is a small, picturesque castle built sometime in the 1400's by one of the O'Donaghue Ross chieftain. We were glad that we took the time.

The thing about castles is that you can really take pictures of them all day. It's not like there's an angle that you look at it and think, "Hmm. Stone and mortar fifty feet tall. Not impressed." I have a feeling that a large portion of a castle's defensive usefulness was psychological. Intimidation. As in, "Why on Earth even try to storm that thing when people up there will be aiming at me down here?"

Candid shot of Barbie in front of Ross Castle.

They only allow guided tours here. We really do not care for that, as I have Wikipedia and Barbie has ADD. We decided to forgo the tour, and therefore we did not make it up THERE.

That is me, against the wall with an imaginary sword, wondering how the heck I am going to fight my way in.

I had to include a shot the showed the lakeside.

On the way to the parking lot, one last pic. I tell you, it is impossible to not take picture after picture of a castle. They're better than supermodels. Even supermodels take a bad picture now and then. Castles? Never.

Time to hit that road. Look at that. Los Angeles to Santa Barbara, that's all it is.

Just outside Killarney, the road to Cork. There are many beautiful hillsides, sometimes looking like Northern California with pine trees everywhere, sometimes looking like Colorado with rock outcroppings and trees. Always beautiful.

This joke took days, maybe even a week to set up. Ready? Okay. (Pause.) "HAY!" (Look at the pic again if you didn't get it.) I took several more photos of Macroom, the town halfway between Killarney and Cork. But none of them made the blog. Why? Just buildings, roads and cars.

Except for this pic outside Macroom. Our dear friend and Picasso's substitute for trip theme, Brüno, alone on the hillside.

On the way into Cork, we diverted to Blarney Castle. And on the way to Blarney Castle, we stopped at the Muskerry Arms Pub & Restaurant.

Consistency should be admired.

Barbie's fish & chips, my shepherd's pie. Consistency.

Blarney Castle. Home of the Blarney Stone. And inspiration for one informative and entertaining Wikipedia entry.

From the side, where you can see the guard tower as well as the castle. Twice as tall as Ross Castle, and twice as intimidating.

Whenever I see them gathered like this, a French accented voice in my head says, "Dahm Tooreests."

Barbie ready to fire arrows at the peasants outside the castle.

In a past life, I must have s;pent time in a medieval prison. I cannot see bars without having this reaction.

What you are supposed to notice in this pic is that I cannot get through this doorway. Not sure it worked. But look, my shoulders are pinned to the stone. If I had an IQ in the teens, I would stand like that for hours, pushing and pushing against the doorway unsure why I wasn't moving forward.

The circular steps up to the top of the castle.

A very happy lady.

The view from the top.

Over there are people participating in the Blarney.

A very inventive defensive design I have not seen in other castles. The top of Blarney Castle was built with these gaps facing directly down so that attackers could not seek safety up against the wall below. In fact, they would be sitting ducks. The Blarney Stone itself rests in the wall above one of these openings. There are countless tales why it is special, and not one is proven or even likely to be true.

Babrie kissing the Blarney Stone.

Here is my own unverified theory on the Blarney Stone. This castle was an attraction for its size and beauty. There were these defensive slits at the top, where you looked down 100 feet, and some guy said to his buddy, "I dare you to kiss that stone there." It was no different from any other stone in the castle, it just happened to be one of the many stones that was wicked difficult to reach, let alone get your lips to. The guy did it. This courageous activity became sort of a tradition, and over time people started making up stories for why they were doing this. The one that stuck is that after kissing it you are rewarded, "The gift of gab." And now thousands of people put their lips to this thing every year.

Amusingly, the word "blarney" came to mean "bulls--t" because of Queen Elizabeth I. The McCarthy chieftain of Blarney would get involved in long discussions with the Queen's emissary in which he would speak like a politician, going on and on without actually saying anything. Exasperated, Queen Elizabeth said, "This is all blarney. What he says he never means!" Thus, the word "blarney" was born. So, you see, the Blarney Stone is the Bulls--t Stone. Hilarious, no?

Amazing view from up here.

That is the Blarney Stone, right THERE.

Entering Cork, we spotted these very cool buildings. No idea what they are.

The entrance to the Hayfield Manor Hotel. Our home for a day.

It looks like an estate from Victorian times, but it was actually built in 1996. In my opinion, this means our hotel has the class of the old with the comforts of the new.

The Hayfield Manor Hotel lobby. Who's ready for a suite tour?

You walk in the door and see, "The sitting room."

The sitting room, with doors to the small patio.

Outside the sitting room, the hallway to the bedroom.

On your way to the bedroom, you see the area with the wardrobe and bathroom.

The bedroom from the desk, facing the bed.

The bedroom from the bed, facing the desk.

I noticed an open parking spot just outside our sitting room, and I asked the valet who carried our bags (and who was going to park our car for us) if he would park it there, so that we could just stick our bags in it tomorrow instead of bothering to get any help. Like any five star hotel employee, he said, "Sounds good to me." We love the idea that we're at this five star hotel with our car outside the window like a motel.

Why do we order room service so often? No need to get dressed ina presentable way at the end of a long day. No need to walk some place and sit there and wait for our food. Instead, you order what you want, keep unpacking or answering email or watching TV, and in a short while food arrives at your door.

Mine, the soup of the day and the pasta of the day. Cream of broccoli soup and tagliatelle pasta with salmon and asparagus. Barbie's, house salad with artichoke hearts and seafood chowder.

I was going to show you a pic of all the empty plates, but they came and took it away before I got around to it.

Tomorrow we fly back to the continent, and tomorrow night we already have plans for a dinner with Andre. Seriuosly, Barbie's friend and client Andre is in Amsterdam and we have dinner reservations with him. Should be fun.

Europe Day 36 of 59, Killarney, Ireland

The Ring of Kerry. It could be something from Tolkien that is to control all women named Karry. But what it actually is is the road that connects all of the towns in Kerry County, Ireland. The Ring of Kerry is famed for its natural beauty and charming villages, and it is our agenda for day 36.

On our way out of Killarney, we get a halfway decent picture of Killarney's largest church, St. Mary's Cathedral.

The first town we hit on the ring is Killorglin, and this is a statue of King Buck. It is said that a goat once saved this town from invasion, so each year a wild goat is taken from the mountains and placed high on a pedestal in town for Puck Fair. How did the goat save the town? Legend says it might have come running into town spooked by the invading army, and that was all the warning they needed. Like a medieval alarm system.

Killorglin's main street. It's a fun name, Killorglin. Say it out loud a few times.

Killorglin's church. Look, I don't know what to say. You drive through a town where a few thousand people live, and the sensible thing to do is take pictures of the main street and the church. Sometimes I take pics of the pubs if they have cool names.

Bunkers is a cool name.

After Killorglin you see Dingle Bay, a fun name for the sick and twisted as well as a beautiful vista.

We passed through Carrantuohill with no blog worthy pictures taken, but stopped just beyond the town for this view of the Atlantic. One thing about oceans, they mess with your perspective. There is no real way to grasp that if you touch the water in Florida, touch it Maine, and touch it here that it is all the same body of water. Then again, all of the oceans are connected, so...

She takes my picture as I take her picture and the finger indicates what we like to call a "Yasir Arafat Scarf" THERE.

The next two towns were Glenbeigh and Cahersiveen, so let us pretend that these hills are between the two. That way both towns get credit and I don't get angry emails from any mayors.

This be Waterville. It sort of represented our halfway point, and we had planned to eat lunch here, but a lack of hunger meant that we did not even stop.

But I did get a picture of the Waterville church!

Outside Waterville they had a concrete walkway into the bay, which walked down until I could walk no further.

The wind was very strong, and "someone" got back in the car to stay cozy.

No clue. Absolutely no clue at all. But let us call her the patron saint of baby animals. Because that would explain the next picture.

Beggar with baby animals, leaning against the wall that surrounds the previous statue. I gave him €2 for taking pictures of him and his baby sheep and two kittens, but if I showed you a close-up of the baby sheep and two kittens your heart your twist inside your chest as you ache to cuddle them. Another thing the photographer is not letting you see is the fact that this beggar's white compact car is a few feet from his knee and had his wife snoozing in a reclined front passenger seat. He may sit here every day with baby animals, his back against the patron saint of whatever statue, making €100 per day for petting kittens. How? Tour buses stop here all day. Hundreds of people see the kittens and sheeplet every day. Cased closed. For all we know this gentleman has a PhD in Economics and caught on that begging with baby animals is the way to go.

We then drove right through Ballinskelligs and Caherdaniel to Staigue Fort. Long before we arrived at Staigue Fort, I announced that it would be the best thing ever. Ever. Why? One book we had claimed it was 2,000 years old. Another, 3,000 years old. I was sure that awesomeness awaited.

Awesomeness realized. I shall re-type the highlights from the sign at the entrance:

This is one of the largest and finest stone forts in Ireland and was probably built in the early centuries AD before Christianity came to Ireland. It must have been the home of a very wealthy landowner or chieftain who had a great need for security.

A wall up to six meters high and four meters thick -- built entirely without mortar -- encloses an area thirty meters in diameter.

The fort was the home of the chieftan's family, guards and servants, and would have been full of houses, out-buildings, and possibly tents or to her temporary structures.

Do you feel informed? You'd better.

Checking for barbarians at the gate.

Barbie at the very top.

There she is, on the left.

It was windy, and to be completely honest, I wasn't going to stand straight up.

From above, you can see how the stairs worked. Basically, if bad people were outside, you ran up here with your bow and maybe some rocks, and you made the people outside the wall really dang sorry to be trying to raid the chieftain's fort.

Barbie shows you just how tall that wall is.

By the way, can I add that this fort was built around the time of Rome's Pantheon? Rome, the city with clean running water and sewage systems. Feel free to let your mind wrap around that one.

On the way back to the main road, a gang of sheep tried to pull off that scam where a few hang out in front of you to slow you down so that their buddies can come up behind you and pick your pockets. Barbie was wise to these sheep thugs and floored it, mowing them down in a cloud white fuzz.

Sneem, perhaps the best named village in the circle, is known for its multi-colored buildings. Pic proof! By now we were hungry. We couldn't find a pub with food, so we walked into this Irish kitchen.

By the way, day before yesterday we bought an iPhone car charger from the most handsome young man in Ireland, David at Galway's Eyre Square O2 store. It has taken Barbie two days to get over him. (He was wicked sexy. I can admit that.) Today, I was served soup and a baked potato by the most beautiful girl in Ireland, whose name I do not know. But one has to love how the universe balances itself.

I didn't get a picture of the most beautiful girl in Ireland, but I got a picture of the mushroom soup. We thought of telling her to go find David in Galway and make beautiful babies together.

My baked potato with cheddar and bacon, Barbie's Irish beef stew. Keeping it real, we are. Or keeping it Irish, I should say.

Between Kenmare and Killarney, one sees many beautiful sights. This is one of them.

There is a famous spot here called Ladies View, because Queen Elizabeth I visited with her ladies in waiting and they stood here and said it was the most beautiful view that they had ever seen.

We walked along some rocks for this view of Lough Leane.

Yours truly.

Barbara truly.

Lough Leane on the other side of the rock outcropping.

Irish clouds and a hint of the Irish sun.

And that was that, we had completed the Ring of Kerry and were back at our hotel. Barbie had a lot of work to do, and we can only have one computer connected at a time in the room, so I took care of some business of my own.

Summer Blockbuster. (That pic would be better if I could have gotten the row in front of me.) You see, there are these robots from outer space that can turn into cars and such, and then back. I was too old to ever see a cartoon, but I figured I should see this movie on a big screen while I had the chance.

As long as I was taking pics inside the theater... I can honestly say that this was the second best shape shifting robots from outer space movie I've ever seen. (I thought the first movie was great, and number two didn't compare, but it was still entertaining.)

Killarney at the magic hour. Beautiful. We went out for a bite to eat, and the entire town shuts down at 9 PM. Even the pubs stop serving food at 9 PM.

Next to the Häagen-Dazs next to the cinema next to our hotel is a pizza place. It saved us in a pinch, though you can see in the window there that teenaged Irish thugs were hanging out inside. Good thing I still look like an Italian football hooligan. They didn't mess with us.

The name of the pizza joint is Four Star Pizza. So this is a pic of Four Star Pizza in a Five Star Hotel.

Good night.