I kissed the Blarney Stone!!

...Which was the perfect ending to our weekend. Allow me to start at the beginning.
Seven of us traveled to the southern city of Cork for our first weekend trip outside of Co. Dublin. After a four hour bus ride, we found our destination, Kinlay Hostel (The horror movies were proven false; the hostel was nestled on a hill by St. Anne's church and we found it tidy and warm). We spent the day taking in free galleries and the city's eye candy, which included exuberantly colored buildings and a river flowing through the center. We eventually found the jackpot; their notorious English Market. This I found quite ironic seeing as though Cork's nicknames include "the rebel city" and "the real capital of Ireland", yet they are so fond of this market. Regardless, we loaded up on cheap loaves of fresh bread, lamb meatballs, brocolli, olives and feta cheese (they had an olive stand that would put Pittsburgh's strip district to shame, I hate to admit), and headed back to the hostel to prepare a feast. After struggling with the gas stove and speaking broken french to other hostel guests, we sat down as a big family, said grace, and indulged in our inexpensive supper. We waddled back to our room to digest with stories and laughter before eventually going out to take in some night life. We went to a pub that advertised traditional music, but ended up listening to locals sing along to American tunes. Our other source of entertainment came from an Irishman named James, who eventually got down on his knees and asked me to marry him. I told him that I was taken, breaking his heart for about five minutes before he was back to doing some form of jig.
On Saturday we arose and took a bus to Kinsale, a town known for its sailing and gourmet food (it would have been my cousin Rueben's dream come true, so I won't rub in how delicious that chicken was). It was a lovely town, but the constant stream of drizzle led me to believe it would be more suitable in the summer months. We headed back to Cork to spend our evening disecting dreams and dialects with a local we had met in the market.
Sunday I woke wishing my boyfriend a happy birthday and anticipating our trip to Blarney Castle. We toast and tea for breakfast, compliments of the hostel, then packed up and moved out. When we arrived at the Blareny Castle estate (after paying 6 euro at the gate), I immediately dubbed it the most beautiful area in Ireland I've seen thus far. Imagine an enormous weathered structure that looks just as much a part of the landscape as the surrounding mossy trees and meandering streams. We were surrounded by every shade of green, Irish mist and flowers in full bloom in late January. After climbing the slick, winding staircase in the castle, backpacks and all, we reached the open upper level. Of course the altitude turned me into a pile of nerves as I clutched to the slick, rusting railings. The older woman behind me was a big help, encouraging me to keep going (maybe because she felt as nervous as me!). I managed to shimmy my way over to a smooth, blue-grey chunk of stone and lay on my back beneath it. After controlling my nervous giggles, I bent back as a man held onto me and kissed that 400 year old stone. Ewwww!! Now I can say I kissed Winston Churchill...kind of.
Being blessed with the gift of gab and view from the top of the Blarney Castle was a perfect way to end the weekend.