Put a Cork in it

With four days until I could move into my apartment, I decided to visit Cork. I picked it on a bit of a whim, but it’s a really lovely city. Of course, it’s also conveniently situated near Blarney, Blarney Castle, and the Blarney Stone.

Cork, Ireland

The town of Blarney is very small, with just a couple of pubs and shops, but it is also the home to the Woolen Mills, a huge warehouse-type shop filled with every kind of sweater, scarf, mitten, and hat imaginable. Yes, I got a hat.

Entrance to the grounds of Blarney Castle is €13, and the kindly lady who sold me the ticket reminded me to, “Go all the way up to the top to kiss the stone!” It’s remarkable that this bizarre custom has turned into such an enormous tourist industry. Anyway, Blarney Castle is surrounded by gorgeous green (of course) grounds, and it’s about a 5 minute walk from the gate to the Castle. I arrived in the morning when the whole area was still shrouded in fog. My first instinct was to say that it was bad weather, but on reflection, I realized it was just thoroughly Irish.

The Blarney Stone is built into the wall in the very top section of the Castle, and you have to climb up a very tall, slippery, and precarious winding stone staircase to get there. Up at the top (from the battlements, I guess they’re called) you have an amazing view of the lush grounds surrounding the castle, and a stone walkway rings the inner section of the tower, but in the middle you can see down to the bottom level. As precarious as kissing the stone appears, it’s actually walking around here that’s probably the most dangerous.

I’ve heard it can be an absolute zoo, but because I got there at 9:30am in January, there was only one other person there at the same time as me. This was actually fortuitous, because if you want a picture, it’s better to ask someone to take one for you; there is an automatic picture taken, but it costs €10 to get a copy.

Because there was no line, I discarded my purse and scarf and asked the nice holder-guy how this thing works. He told me to sit down with my back facing the wall, lean back, and grab on to the rails. He very lightly held on to my waist, but the whole thing felt really secure.

I remember thinking ahead of time that I’d just give the stone a small, perfunctory peck, simply for the fun of it and to be able to say that I did, even though I’d previously thought about the millions of people who’ve probably kissed that same spot. Ew (actually, I read that they sanitize it periodically, which is nice, but still, ew). Somehow, in the few seconds that I was holding the pose (which the holder-guy told me to do, probably so they could take their €10 picture), I realized that I was unintentionally giving the stone a hearty smack. More blarney for me?

View from the battlements of Blarney Castle

So, now I should have the gift of gab, or “the ability to deceive without offending,” or something like that. Different accounts promise different things. It can’t hurt.

The next day I decided to visit the small town of Cobh (pronounced “Cove,” because Irish doesn’t make any sense). It’s about a 20 minute train ride from Cork and is renowned for being the last stop the Titanic made before its fateful crossing (although at the time, Cobh was called “Queenstown”).

Cobh, Ireland

Cobh is home to the “Titanic Experience” in the original White Star Line office building. It’s only as I type this that I realize that is quite likely the worst possible name for a Titanic museum. As the name promises, it’s very intense. First of all, when you buy your entry ticket, you’re assigned a passenger (a real person!) who boarded the Titanic at Cobh. The entry ticket looks like a Titanic passenger ticket and carries the details of your assigned person. I was Mary Canavan, 22, traveling in 3rd class. The entire tour is then carried out like you’re boarding the ship, which had the potential to be absolutely devastating (I was almost in tears when I got my ticket), but is luckily tacky enough to pull some of the punch (the tour is directed by a computer version of one of the officers on Titanic). With all of the interesting historical information about the ship and passengers, it’s surprisingly easy to forget the tragic outcome, as you visit replicas of berths and state rooms (did you know that steerage on the Titanic was actually more luxurious than 1st class on other ships at the time?) and read original menus.

After sitting in a “lifeboat” and watching an animated version of the Titanic sinking in front of you, you go into the last room, which is full of informative plaques, video footage of the real ship on the bottom of the ocean, frighteningly descriptive accounts of what it would be like to drown in freezing water, and finally, a list of all of the 123 passengers who boarded at Cobh (including all of the people we’ve been impersonating) and their fate. Mary Canavan didn’t make it. I still can’t decide how I feel about using the identities of real people who lost their lives in this event. In many respects it makes the experience deeper, but I couldn’t help feeling that it was insensitive.

The original White Star Line pier, also known as Heartbreak Pier, from which passengers would have boarded the two tenders that took them to Titanic, anchored in deeper waters.

Cobh’s other main attraction is its Cathedral, St. Colman’s, which is stunning, but after visiting at least 5 churches and cathedrals in Cork, not to mention several in Dublin, I’m a bit cathedral-weary. Still, it was nice to go in, because it was a cold and rainy day in Cobh. As soon as I opened my umbrella, it turned inside out, and after a nice Irish couple helped me get it back the right way, they told me, “You can’t use umbrellas here. Too windy!” While inside the Cathedral, I could hear the wind absolutely roaring outside!

Now I’m back in Dublin and all moved into my apartment!