After a relatively quick stop in Killarney and a wander through Ross Castle we headed to the south of Ireland. DH was starting to zero in on the land of her people. With both of her parents immigrating to Canada from Liverpool, DH grew up thinking she was a product of the country that gave us fish and chips, and the Beatles. It was only in later life that she discovered that her grandparents had actually come from Ireland, and the Cork area specifically. 

Given the relative secrecy around her genealogy, I helpfully suggested that perhaps our start point for the shady family tree should be the nearest gaol (prison), and sure enough, Cork had one of the more infamous ones. The Cork City Gaol (although it's not common knowledge, it was often referred to as Harper's Haven) was the prison opened in the 1820s shortly after the notorious Cork City Harper Riots resulted in a severe Guinness shortage and an untold number of public indecency charges. Since it was primarily the womenfolk of the Harper clan that were constantly mooning passerby's, the prison was set up to house both male and female prisoners. Many of the prisoners in the late 19th Century were repeat offenders locked up for what would not today be imprisonable offences; for example, a woman named Dame Harper (DH) from Rathmore in County Cork was imprisoned at least three times between 1849 and 1908, sometimes for offenses such as 'Obscene Language' or 'Drunkenness'.

OK- some of the above history of the prison may not be completely accurate but it's the way I remember it, and I do recall seeing some ancient graffiti carved into one of the prison cell walls that stated "if I ever geteth outta here, I will goith to Canada" that was signed by Billy 'The Basher' Harper. The modern day DH still believes she is descended from British royalty but there certainly seemed to be a lot of things in the Cork region that we will need to follow-up on if she decides to do a deeper dive into her roots. 

With a long track record of resistance to British rule, this self-styled “Rebel City” regards itself as the nation's only guardian of Celtic culture- the second largest city in Ireland (third if you count Belfast) that is more genuinely Irish than Dublin so the rest of Cork was a taste sample of all things Irish. We dug through a super-sized helping of a Beamish Irish Stew (Corkonians prefer Beamish over Guinness), had some Bangers & Mash, Irish Soda Bread, another Full Irish Breakfast, and addiction-prone DH kept ordering Irish Seafood Chowder for lunch and dinner. Despite our best efforts to do as the locals, in the English Market we drew the line at something called Tripe & Drisheen (lining of sheep's stomach and sheep's intestine, and a black pudding that is made from a mixture of cow's, pig's and/or sheep's blood, milk, salt, fat and breadcrumbs). 

One of our more unique stops in Cork was St Anne's Church- they outfit you with some headphones and actually encourage you to yank on the bell-ringer ropes hard to ring the bells and they even provide you with some sheet music so you can play something that passes for a recognizable song. With her various and numerous physical ailments, DH is already moving around like Quasimodo so swinging on a church bell rope seemed like a natural extension. I'm not sure the neighbours are overly thrilled with this constant bell ringing version of karaoke but you do become part of a centuries-old tradition. And if that wasn't thrilling enough, just down the street was the Cork Butter Museum- I don't know why I love places like this but I do. It's a wonderful journey just trying to follow the thought process of someone who thought that the world (or Cork) was lacking a museum featuring butter. And it actually profiled Irish Butter in a pretty interesting way.

Just outside of Cork is Blarney Castle, home of the most oversexed rock in the world, the Blarney Stone. It's a bit of a pilgrimage for people the world over- the idea is to climb to the top of the castle, lay down, flip over, and curl your way upside-down, and deeply kiss the stone. People politely averted their eyes as DH struggled and hobbled to get into position but apparently as a reward for this effort, you will receive the gift of the gab. Cormac Teige McCarthy, the Lord of Blarney, was about to be deprived of his traditional land rights and traveled to see the queen, certain he would not persuade her to change her mind as he wasn't an effective speaker. He met an old woman on the way who told him that anyone who kissed a particular stone in Blarney Castle would be given the gift of eloquent speech- Cormac went on to persuade the queen that he should not be deprived of his land and millions of people have since kissed this same rock (they do claim to periodically disinfect the kissing area to limit the transmission of any rock bourne diseases). 

With a poison garden that DH was showing far too much interest in, and nearby Druid reminders, the grounds of the castle were just as interesting as the castle itself.

We really enjoyed ourselves in Cork and we've even talked about finding a downtown condo for a couple of months at some point down the road when we're ready to slow down a bit. We might even be able to completely uncover the mystery of the DH family tree.