Bam! I couldn’t sleep the night of the 12th, so Sunday dawned with a raging hangover AND an all-nighter. I’ve rarely felt worse. I was counselled to drink lots of water and eat greasy food, but even the thought of food made me feel nauseated. It was a good day for Blarney Castle and the crisp fresh air that came with a day in the sun/ rain/ cold/ hot/ windiness that is Irish weather. Seriously, one minute it rains, the next it’s sunny, and the next, it’s sunny and raining at the same time. I wonder why anyone even bothers to read the weather forecast in Ireland. I sure wouldn't.
So Ang, Emilie, David and I wander around the grounds of Blarney Castle and make the trek up to the Blarney stone. No, I didn’t kiss it… partly because I was supremely nauseated and the thought of hanging backwards over a wall with my head upside down really wasn’t appealing, and partly because no miracle on this earth could possibly give me the gift of gab. I mean, sorry, but it’s true. I stood on the edge and took pictures of the Irish countryside instead.
I spent the latter part of the evening running around trying to find a payphone and thinking Ang had been kidnapped.... but it turned out to be a false alarm... Note: there are very FEW public phones in Ireland. Then I sprawled over the air mattress and got a much-needed sleep….
