6:45AM up and getting ready, while trying to ignore the spreading pain in my lungs. I think I must have kept the other hostelers awake with my coughing and sniffling.
8:00AM on the street, talking to a garrulous Conan O’Brian clone in a yellow windbreaker who hailed me with the question, “are you Japanese?” I’m not. Nonetheless, he proceeded to tell me of his plans to go to America, “The Land of the Free.” Well, my appraisal of the USA was much less positive, and I told him so. But he says that he’s ready to try his luck. Ending the conversation, he briskly states “arigato.” Cork is a pretty friendly town . . .
9:30AM Arriving in Blarney, a town dominated by its tourist assets. The castle itself is wonderfully hollow; helpful signs indicate where the floors once were, and explain what the rooms once were used for. As it is, the signs are far off the ground, and you have to imagine the “kitchen” for example, way up there in the air, levitating. Lichen and grass clung to the weathered dark-gray stone of the Castle. Speaking of stones, the Blarney Stone is a roughly rectangular brick about 3 feet across which has been rubbed smooth by uncountable lips touching it, and hence is a recognizably lighter hue than the surrounding stone. It is attached to the bottom of the lip of the keep wall which is separated from the keep itself by a narrow gap. Thus, you need to lie on your back, grip two metal bars for support, and extend your head back and down to make contact with the Stone. Not particularly dangerous, but I’m not particularly fond of heights. ‘Smack’ and on my way, because there were about 20 people waiting behind me. I had asked an Ozzie to take my pic, but he missed the moment. Oh well. I would only have shown my legs sticking out from the wall.
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Afternoon: feeling sicker, and feverish. I took a quick nap, and noticed that my bunkmate James was still sleeping. Wonder what happened to him. Is it time for me to move on? I’m weary, and rather unexcited about staying here. It could be the cold making me grumpy, but I’m not sure if there’s anything left for me to do in Cork. It’s a pretty enough town, but when you’re too sick to drink Guinness or Murphys, what point is there?
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6:00PM Paid a visit to University College Cork. Isn’t that kind of redundant? The campus was rather quiet. I took a look at the campus map and briefly thought about visiting their history department. No sign of an East Asian department (or even a Dept. of Oriental Studies). They have a library named after Boole (originator of boolean logic?), but other than being somewhat picturesque, nothing much to write home about.
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