|
  | |  |
A Kiss for the Gift of Gab
Entry 125 of 155 | show all | print this entry |
|
Blarney Castle sits on a hill near River Martin on a picturesque town outside Cork. It was built circa 1200 and destroyed in the 1400's A.D and is currently a privately owned estate which was kindly opened for tourism (or profit). Not that any of this mattered to us; all we wanted to do was kiss that Blarney stone!
The Blarney stone is a slab of bluestone fit into a cresting in the highest level of the castle. Kissing the stone will give you the gift of gab, or eloquence, so they say. A rare gift to be given by a stone, I say. But my main question was: how many people pucker their wet lips upon the stone every day?
My question was answered when I saw the long queue of people coiling through the towers and the narrow ruined staircases, on the balconies and the battlements. We finally reached the top level, where the Blarney stone was. I could see two men assisting people to kiss the stone.
As the queue got shorter and we approached the Stone, I wondered if the stone was sprayed with some sort of disinfectant after each kisser. But as soon as I was in full view of what was going on, I realized that perhaps it wasn't too hygienic to go through with this. I began to squirm while a list of all the saliva-contracted diseases rushed though my brain: Hepatitis, cold sores, Herpes, Meningitis, Epstein-Barr, Mononucleosis, Flu, Polio.
It was too late to turn back now, it was my turn to pucker up. I approached the stone much like young Arthur must've approached the sword in his stone: puzzled. There was a man sitting on the floor, his feet dangling off a ledge. That was the assistant. There was a space between the floor and the wall that looked down into the precipice that was the cliff below. It was in that tiny space that the Stone was, so you were supposed to lean backwards into the hole and kiss the stone. So with the help of the nice man hanging on to my waist, I was told to hang on to two iron railings and gently slide my bum backwards until I was able to reach the stone with my lips.
I forgot all about the disease-ridden stone as soon as I was dangling upside down looking down into the abyss. I kissed the stone with a loud smack and was helped up by the assistant who boldly remarked in his awful Cork's accent "Ya enjoyed dat, didya?"
No one seems to really know how this bizarre custom came to be, but legend has it that an old witch was saved by one of the Kings of Munster from drowning and she rewarded him with a spell, that if he would kiss a stone on the castle top he would gain a speech that would win all to him.
Another legend tells of how the word 'blarney' entered the English language: during the reign of Queen Elizabeth I, the ruler of the castle, a McCarthy was required to surrender his castle as proof of loyalty. McCarthy said he'd be delighted to do so but every time it was time to give up his castle, he always came up with the perfect excuse. His excuses became so eloquent and frequent that when the Queen heard of this, she exclaimed "Odds bodkins, more Blarney talk!" Thus the word blarney came to signify the ability to coax with fair speech without giving offense. In other words: a smooth talker.
Whatever the legend or myth, I had enough time to take one shot of Ed as he was kissing the god sent stone., We both walked away wondering when the gift of gab would sink in. We explored the rest of the castle as we descended through the narrow spiral staircases.
Once outside the castle we realized we had lost David and Lucy long ago, so we decided to survey the castle grounds which, according to a tour guide we had befriended earlier (and who subsequently let us in for free, thanks to David once again), told us that the gardens and surrounding groves were magical.
We followed a path down some stairs and past some trees, and found a small bridge crossing a stream. The vegetation that sprouted from the stream was impressive, if not freaky. The largest plants we'd ever seen curled upwards from their stem towards the sun, in huge leaves that must've had a span of at least 80 cm's. In their thick stems were dark thorns which got the don't-mess-with-us message across. I doubt I'll ever come across plants like these again.
Ed and I walked away as we began to understand why this place was magical, and were eager to find what else was in store. We entered a small forest of tall pine trees which blocked out much of the radiant sunlight which had graced us with its presence after a day and a half of pure rain.
Soon we came across an eerie set of stones, positioned to look like the entrance of a cave or some sort of rock shelter. This was the Dolmen, a megalithic tomb consisting of three upright rocks supporting a larger rock, creating in the center a small chamber. It is believed that these glades, in prehistoric times, were the place of Druidic worship.
We were anxious to see what other Druidic remnants were left behind in these grounds. This was how we reached the Wishing Steps: a stone entrance to rocky steps which led upwards unto a different level of the grounds. It is said that if you can walk up and down these steps backwards and with your eyes closed, and without thinking of anything other than a wish, then that wish will become true within the year. We love a fairy fantasy just like the next person but we're not superstitious, so Ed and I just had fun watching other people climbing up the slippery steps backwards.
Up over the Wishing Steps we entered Rock Close. We could tell why this place was said to be enchanted as soon as we stepped on the sunlit glade. A majestic tree whose strong roots coiled and curled over peculiarly shaped moss covered rocks forming a cave called the Witches Kitchen. It is believed the first settlers of Ireland dwelled in these caves.
Ed and I explored the glade and its extravagant vegetation within every corner and nook, half expecting to come across a fairy or even a Druid in white robes. I was enchanted looking at every detail in disbelief. Leaves and berries looked more spectacular and mosquitoes fizzing by didn't bother me as they usually would. Sun rays shone down upon the glade in streaks of white light through the branches of the ancient trees, creating tiny spotlights on the soil.
I didn't want to leave but we had to find David and Lucy. We figured that if they'd already gone past the fairy glades, then they'd be outside waiting for us near the entrance. They weren't there as expected so Ed and I had ice cream while we waited and talked about the magical dale and castle.
We finally met David and Lucy and headed back to the center of Cork for the final destinations of our trip. During the ride Lucy confessed she had had the same fear of contracting something in her mouth by kissing the stone. She also told me she'd heard from another tourist that local boys sometimes break into the castle and piss on the stone. As far as I knew the gift of the damn gab wasn't manifesting itself, but I could now foresee myself with a leprous mouth until the end of times.
Latest Comments (2)
|
What???? (reply)
Aug 28, 2007 04:17 EST by zento
I thought Lucy had said it but maybe I overheard it from someone else.
And as for kissing the stone, you weren't the only one there who was grossed out.
|
|
Wrong, Wrong, Wrong, (reply)
Aug 28, 2007 02:22 EST by uncle_davros
It was I who is scared of catching something so I refused to kiss the stone.
Also, Lucy never said anything about people pissing on the stone !!!
|
 Post a new comment |
|
If you like this entry, search for other entries by zento, from Ireland or try a new search. |
| |
| Table of Contents |
| 125. | A Kiss for the Gift of Gab - Cork, Ireland Aug 12, 2007 (  43 ) (  2 ) |
|
|
|
|
Back to Entry - Back to Home
|
101 votes 
This is a top pick!
