Blarney Castle sits on a hilly landscape just outside Cork, Ireland.  It was built circa 1200 and was the home of the Kings of Munster of Ireland until the castle was destroyed and rebuilt in the 15th century.  Not that any of this really mattered to us; we were here only to kiss the stone!

The Blarney Stone is a slab of bluestone on one of the battlements of the top level of the castle.  For almost 200 years pilgrims and tourists have come to fulfill the myth, that anyone who kisses the stone would gain the gift of gab, or eloquence. 

Legend has it that the stone was brought to Ireland by the prophet Jeremiah, and became the ‘Lia Fail’ or the magical stone upon which the kings of Ireland were crowned.

Another legend tells of how a King of Munster saved an old witch from drowning in the river near the castle, and thus he was rewarded with a spell, that if he would kiss a stone on the top of the castle, he would gain the power to win all to him. 

Whatever the legends, here my boyfriend and I were, standing on a queue that coiled through the towers and the narrow staircases of the ruined castle, to kiss a stone.  So the question that comes to mind after this picture is: all these people are going to be puckering up their wet and possibly bacteria-stricken lips upon the Blarney stone?

The answer is yes.  I actually hadn't thought about it until I saw the amount of people present.  A list of saliva-contracted diseases began to run through my head: Hepatitis B, cold sores, Herpes, Meningitis, Epstein-Barr, Mononucleosis, Flu, Polio.

My boyfriend didn't seem to care, but then again, he's a guy, what do they care about hygiene?  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 worn Stone was.  So with the help of the nice man hanging on to my waist, I was told to hang on to two iron railings and curve my back downwards, gently sliding my bum back 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 accent "Ya enjoyed dat, didya?"

After my boyfriend emerged from the pit smiling, 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.  The castle itself wasn't much to look at; it was the grounds which were supposed to be magnificent. A nice tour guide we befriended earlier had mentioned that the forests and glades around the castle were truly enchanting.  He then went on to rant on about the Age of Aquarius and the end of the world, so we diplomatically parted ways.

We followed a path down some stairs and past some trees, and found a small bridge crossing a silent 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 green leaves that must’ve had a span of at least 1 meter.  In their thick stems were dark and scary thorns which clearly got the ‘don’t-mess-with-us’ message across.  Prehistoric plants perhaps?

We continued walking across a pine tree grove and soon came across an eerie set of stones, positioned to look like the entrance of a cave or some sort of rock shelter.  This was a 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 places of Druidic worship. 

We were instantly intrigued and anxious to see what other Druidic elements were left behind in the estate.  This was how we soon 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 we just had fun watching other people struggling 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 rocks formed a cave called the Witch’s Kitchen.  It is believed the first settlers of Ireland dwelled in these caves.

No doubt it was a beautiful place, like something out of a dusty Irish folktale book.  But it was time to go and so we headed out towards the castle's exit.  On our way out we overheard an American woman loudly remarking to a friend: "I heard from one of the ladies outside that local boys often break into the castle grounds, climb up to the top of the castle, and piss on the Blarney Stone! Can you believe it?!"

No.  I couldn't believe it.  I might as well have licked a public toilet seat.  My boyfriend and I looked at each other mortified.  We had been hoping for a bit of eloquence, but after hearing this bit of sickening information, I think we got a little more than what we bargained for.