♣May 10th and 11th, 2008. Kinley House, Cork -Blarney, Ireland.

We spent the night at the bus stop watching the dodgy drunks go home. Lots of hellos and two sets of people telling us to just go to the homeless shelter. It was just a little earlier that a drunk kid stopped his car and leaned out of it with beer in hand as we sat on the side of the road eating some food. He leaned out of the car and said “Eat up ya dirty fuck’n bums” Ian and I laughed of course for he was no more than a drunk. Another group asked for some change and that the girl in the group was hungry cuz she was pregnant. Well she smelt like alcohol and cigarettes, what a great life her kid has ahead. As for the last character we met was a guy, drunk and definitely on some other drugs. He kept hanging out with us and asking the same question… when were we catching the next bus. He was on something for sure. “Tom” was his name, he was dodgy as well. But who cares we packed up and searched out coffee. We walked the town in search of an open store, but to no avail. we walked around til 9 am when the bus stop reopened. We went in when they opened and we used the Internet and drank coffee. The Internet pointed us to all the rooms in Cork to stay. We then went searching but everywhere was filling up fast. We barely found room at the last hostel, the Kinley House. We ate and showered before we headed back out to the streets again, check-in wasn’t until later. We decided to look for the anarchist bookstore and collective society in Cork but we had arrived an hour too early. So we made our way to a pub just near by. As we entered an awkward silence fell upon the bar. There were a handful of old men drinking their pints . We felt the tension all over, you could cut it with a butter knife. We walked up and ordered two pints of our own and sat at the bar. The guys st aired at us for a while before returning to ignoring us. It wasnt until a local soccer hooligan stopped in, still piss drunk from the night before did we have a conversation. He started to speak and honestly we couldn’t make heads or tails of anything that was coming out of his mouth. It was as if we were speaking different languages. After having travelled to Spain you think i would be use to it, but it was shocking i guess mostly because it was the idea that i understood many of the words but hardly the meaning. We talked to this kid for a while but after our second pint we gave up and went for the bookstore collective. They still weren’t open and knowing that anarchist collectives don’t always stay on schedules we went back to the hostel. Ian passed out and i went to the common area and made some new friends. I met Laura, Halfdan, and Elise. We all hit it of right away. We sat and watch a few showes before i had to hit the sac… too tired ya see from an all night-er at the bus stop. Ian and I awoke in just enough time to grab a bite to eat then head out with our new found friends on a Cork Pub crawl with another friend who we met from New Zeland. He had been to Cork a few times before an knew the town and best pubs. We met another girl from Brazil it seems to be a reoccurring theme. Her name is Marica and she was studying in Rome… she said we can bum a couch if we make it there. We always like meeting these type of friendly people. We all partied till the bars closed… 12am not big partiers not like the Spaniards. The next day we all got up said our goodbyes to Marica and the Kiwi and then the remaining 5 went to Blarney to Kiss the stone.

We took the city bus there and skipped paying for a guided tour. Cheaper and better. Blarney is a little town lusciously green and quiet. We walked around the castle and rock close spending the whole day in leisure. Blarney Castle is very gorgeous tower located on top of a rock hill. As we walked to the top of the spiral staircases that lined the castle, i could look out ac cross the vast field of green that was rigidly divided and parceled with grey stone walls and vines growing up the side. You feel as if you are at peace and are content at where you are.

After exploring every crevasse of the castle and kissing the Blarney stone…I hear the locals piss on it as well as the number of rumors about it giving you herpes…. i kissed it anyway. I mean how can you have gone to Blarney and not kissed the stone. That would be like going to Paris and not seeing the Eiffel Tower. The rest of the day was spent climbing trees, picking flowers and lunching in the local green. We played Hackie Sac, drank Cider and gabbed all afternoon until the sun began to set. 5 ciders later and 1 bus trip down the road we made it back to the hostel and then to sleep for the night.