Travel Journal #1: Ireland (Part Five)

Cullan McNamara
Dates: September 11-18, 2017
Destination: Republic of Ireland
Travel Buddy: Kevin McNamara (Dad)
Part One: Day 5 (with post-trip updates)

“Looking over the edge was nauseating, and we started to second guess our decision. As we got closer, the gap between the stone and the castle edge widened.”

Sept. 16, 2017 - Killorglin to Blarney Castle to Galway

Wake up. Eat complimentary breakfast. Drink coffee. Stare out at view. Talk to dad during smoke break. Pack. Head to the next destination. This was our routine. We hadn’t gotten early starts the past few days, but this ritual was what kept us mobile. It was finally time to check box number two for my father. Picture at P. Mac Namara & Son – check. Kiss the Blarney Stone – pending (but hours away.)

It took less than two hours to arrive in Blarney. We parked, waited in an efficiently moving queue, and paid our way onto the grounds. We had to go back up to Galway today, so we swiftly moved to the castle, ignoring the other wonders of the park. We followed signs to the Stone and queued up once again. Another sign indicated a less than one hour wait, so we were ecstatic. My father and I started in a large hall then came to a thin staircase that wound upward. It seemed like some mythical staircase that grew thinner as you climbed higher, and we skipped all the rooms we passed on the way. There was only one thing on our minds.

One step, wait. Two steps, wait. Four steps, wait. And, so it went until ascending to the top. Looking over the edge was nauseating, and we started to second guess our decision. As we got closer, the gap between the stone and the castle edge widened. This was actually scary. We watched elderly people and young kids lean out for the kiss as a man held their legs and another operated a fixed camera. Suddenly, it was my turn.

“Okay, lie down, hands on the rails, and kiss the bottom stone.”

The bars beneath didn’t increase my confidence about leaning nearly three feet over a ledge, especially when a body could easily squeeze through. Nonetheless, I leaned and leaned further than most who only kissed the normal stone above. The surrounding stone was more rugged and standard. The actual Blarney Stone was about a foot and a half wide, maybe eight inches high, and it was very smooth. I leaned further than my brain cared for and kissed it. I slid back forward, and it was my dad’s turn.

I grabbed his phone for a photo, and he leaned over the edge. More scared than myself, he kissed the upper part that requires a little less leaning. He went out instead of out and down. Hopefully he never reads this far because I don’t want to take the moment from him. In essence, we both kissed a Blarney Stone!

We quickly made our way out, and I explored some caves as my dad relaxed for a minute. He ordered me to take a picture of him with the Belleville Area Independent, our local newspaper, in front of the castle. I did after some hassle. He was being a diva, and I was being a jerk. We really do argue a lot. After that ordeal, we grabbed some coffee and took off toward Galway.

Blarney Castle, Blarney, IR

UPDATE

Sorry if it seems like I’m rushing. I really want to finish this journal before I land in Italy. If I do, maybe I can finish that next journal while I’m actually there. If I just called your attention to the rushing, please forgive me. If you don’t notice it, forget this paragraph ever happened.

ANYWAY

The drive from Blarney Castle to Galway is nearly two and a half hours long and 200 kilometers away. Luckily for my father, it was almost all on major highways. His drive had become increasingly easy over the past few days, and we already knew it was easy from Galway back toward Dublin. We listened to Ed Sheeran, and I slept in the car for the first time all trip. I awoke fairly close to our AirBnB.

The place we booked was just across the street from the Galway Bay. Our westward facing window provided an insanely beautiful view of the town and sea. It wasn’t easy checking in, though. The address wasn’t on the outside, and our host wasn’t there yet. After 10 minutes of confusion and wandering for help, she arrived to show us our room.

Our hosts were very kind and helpful, the room was clean, and our bathroom was seriously awesome. For the first time, we both got a key. This meant we weren’t stuck to each other’s hips for the night. Seeing as the other guests were Americans of my dad’s age, I didn’t think he’d be out all night with me. He vocalized my thoughts.

“I’m not gonna stay out all night tonight. It’s time you get to be a kid. I’ll watch some Big Bang, read a book, or something. I don’t mind relaxing for a night.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah – I’m fine here, and you have a key.”

“Well, do you want to at least grab dinner and see the town one last time?”

“You know, I’d like that. Gimme five minutes to get ready.”

I waited, then we walked alongside the water toward downtown. It wasn’t as close as our last place, but it was still only a 20-minute walk at most. Now, because I’ve made the mistake of writing half this after the fact, things start to get a bit hazy. I’d love to make up fun tidbits of conversation or provide some relationship arc with my father, but that wouldn’t be true. Well, the second part may happen later. I do remember the important parts, though.

My father and I strolled down the lively city center passing restaurant after restaurant. There were so many nice places, but we skipped them all for the modest Riordan’s. It was an Irish restaurant with seemingly local choices. My dad ordered the Irish stew, and I got bacon and cabbage. I remember these details because this was the best meal we’d had in Ireland, even though we ate well the whole trip. My plate had large, thick bacon with cabbage, veggies, and two types of potatoes. This was an Irish meal and a damn good one at that. We most likely just talked about the food.

As far as I remember, we went one more place together after this. We stopped at a novelty shop so that I could get a sticker for the front of this journal. I found the perfect Galway sticker, then I helped my dad look for a portable phone charger.

“If I could charge my phone, I’d stay out a bit longer. I don’t want to get lost or have you try and call me when I head home if I don’t have battery. Do these come with a charge?” my father asked the clerk.

“I believe so, but there’s no way to check without a cord. Do you have the cable?”

“No, and I’m not buying both when I have that at home. Thank you, sir,” Dad said as we walked out. “Well, I’m gonna head back and relax. You have fun tonight – just stay safe.”

“Of course. I’ll see you later… or tomorrow, haha,” I joked, then we hugged.

My dad went one way, and I went another. The night gets even more hazy after this. Klaus told us about attempting the impossible Galway pub crawl, so I thought I’d try that. One drink at every bar you pass? Let’s do it. By the end of the night, I just about blacked out. This is exactly what they tell you NOT to do while alone in a foreign country. My recent college days must’ve gotten the better of me.

I believe I started at The Quays. Wait – nope. I was wrong. I started in a coffee shop. After my father left, I immediately found one to write in. I did exactly that for nearly two hours and asked the barista what bars I should hit. One accommodation was The Front Door.

“It looks like an old men’s bar from the outside, but it has a few beer gardens and gets pretty lively. You should check that out,” she said.

I did. After leaving the coffee shop and an empty espresso glass behind, I went to The Front Door. I watched guys walk passed the bouncer without a question until I stepped up.

“Have you been drinking a lot, sir?”

“Actually, I haven’t drank yet… unless some espresso shots count,” I said laughing. He wasn’t amused, but he let me in.

Map of Ireland, My Journal

The Front Door is where I spent most of my time that night. I sat at the bar alone, drank Guinness, and I worked on making a map of Ireland in my notebook. I had to do this and sketch out exactly where we’d been and where we'd come from for one reason. We had done so much that I was literally beginning to forget what happened and in what order. I copied the map into this journal from a picture on Google. To be honest, it looks pretty good, if I do say so myself. Essentially, the first few hours were surprisingly productive. But, seeing as conversation there was scarce, I moved on.

I believe we’re now at The Quays. They always have great live music, so I could drink alone without being awkward. I then did what white people do best; I swayed and listened to a local cover band. I briefly talked to people here and there, a lot of Germans, but it was too loud to hear anything except the music. It was fun and upbeat, but I moved to the next pub.

I shortly stopped in two more places that were cool. In one, I watched a man sketch a massive Ed Sheeran mural with charcoal. I don’t remember what happened in the other. The fifth place was Monroe’s Live, the bar my dad and I were at the last time. There, I spoke to a dog groomer from New York. We spoke about how to live life mostly. She seemed proud that I was out exploring while I was young. She hadn’t done that until her divorce at 26. I think she’s in her early 30s now. She was very interesting, and strangely enough, she knew Bernie. Remember him? The drunk guy that told me to box at a boxing club but not a uni? Yeah – she knew him.

“He was trying to talk to me when I was here a year ago. The bartenders said Bernie is here every day, and he won’t let you go once you start a conversation. You know him?”

I told her of our encounter with him a few days ago. Man… a lot happened in a few days. Anyway, we spoke until she stepped outside to meet a friend. Once they left, I moved on to The Rushing Dove. That was my last stop.

I got some drinks, three from the looks of my bank statement, and started talking to this older group. There were three women and three guys, and I’m pretty sure it was one of their birthdays. The problem is, this is when I entered my brownout. Not quite a blackout, but there a parts of the night missing. All I remember of the rest of the night was going to their party. It was a weird group but a funny one. I distinctly remember talk of communism and some uprising, there were table snacks, and that’s about it. Oh, and I passed out on their couch. I know that because I woke up the next day at 11 o’clock.

I awoke, phone dead, frantic about what time it may be. Our checkout was at 11 – hopefully it’s not 11 I thought. It was past 11. I made sure I had my belongings and hauled ass toward our lodgings. In my jeans and pullover, coat in hand, I sprinted. It was long, but I made it back to find my dad standing with four other guests outside.

“Hooray!” they all yelled and clapped. Clearly, my dad told them I hadn’t come back.

“Welcome back, son. Glad to see you’re alive.”

“And did you get laid?” one guy joked.

“Hahah, no. Just passed out at a super weird party.”

"So… that’s a yes? Haha!”

"I think my girlfriend would murder me," I replied as they made their jokes. I was still panting and bent over my knees.

My dad introduced me to his four, new American friends, though I don’t dare guess their names. They were all retired and traveling around the world. We all spoke for some time about their youths and job histories, then I rushed inside to grab my bags.

“Oh, I’m glad to see you’re safe!” the host said.

“I’m so sorry we’re checking out a bit late – I hope….”

“No, no. I was young once. Don’t worry about it. Just glad to see you back.”

With that, we packed up and took off toward Dublin.

HIGHLIGHTS

Places Visited:
Day Five

• Blarney Castle

• Galway

• Riordan’s

• The Front Door

• The Quays

• Monroe's Live

• The Rushing Dove

Stats

• 12,880 Steps

• 22 Floors

• 6.18 Miles

• 139 Active Minutes