Wednesday, October 20, 2010

UK & Ireland Trip Part Five: Belfast

In my youth, whenever I heard the word “Belfast” on the news it was usually preceded by adjectives such as “divided” or “war torn”. We were looking forward to this leg of the trip to check out Belfast first-hand since the civil unrest that has taken place there is still firmly lodged in the memories of many of its residents. Some even have bullets still firmly lodged in their bodies.

But to get to Belfast, we needed to get up fairly early, drive the car across the Republic of Ireland, drop it back at Budget, catch a taxi to Connolly train station (we were very thankful that taxis were everywhere throughout the trip when we needed them), and ride the train into Northern Ireland’s largest city.

Downtown Belfast, Northern Ireland

The train was an easy 2.5 hours that seemed even faster due to a nice conversation we had with some folks across the aisle. Frank was born in Ireland and moved to Washington D.C. many years ago where he met his wife. They were doing some traveling after attending a family wedding. He just, in fact, became a U.S. Citizen. We talked about a lot of things, including rugby and what all of those guys are doing in that pile during the “scrum”. Turns out that rugby actually has rules. All this time, I thought it was just a form of Greco-Roman wrestling.

Rural Northern Ireland

When we arrived we took a taxi to the B&B, since we had no idea which direction it was. We unloaded our stuff for the brief two night stay, went out for a quick sandwich, and arranged for a 1 1/2 hour private taxi tour of the city of Belfast.

After we got into the back seat of the cab, we realized that we had a major problem with communication. We had no idea what the cab driver was saying most of the time. I thought the Scots were the ones with the verbal delivery that Americans couldn’t understand? Seriously, we could have understood Ozzy Osbourne on a bad night much better. But onward we went…

Downtown Belfast is clearly a mix of old and new when it comes to buildings. Some, such as City Hall, have been preserved and gotten facelifts over the years. Others have obviously come back to life as a new structure after one too many hits by a well-placed bomb or two during the tough times.

Loyalist Mural at Sandy Row

We visited the shipyard where The Titanic was built (a very large hole) and moved on to check out the Protestant and Catholic neighborhoods where The Troubles took place. The Protestant (or Loyalist) neighborhoods are called Shankill and Sandy Row, while Catholics predominately occupy The Falls. Murals abound in both but most of the bitter emotions reside in The Falls. Our taxi driver was clearly Catholic. He said so in no uncertain terms and that was confirmed when at one point he referred to William of Orange as “that little faggot” (one of the only things he said that we understood).

Mural in the Catholic Falls Street Area

There are plenty of resources and even some movies that cover the detailed history of the “Troubles” so I’m not going to attempt to tackle that. Northern Ireland officially became a division of the United Kingdom in 1921, while the rest of the island is the independent Republic of Ireland. This arrangement did not set well with everyone. The nationalists (predominately Catholics from the Republic) didn’t particularly like the fact that the unionists (predominately Protestants from the UK) occupied the north of what they deemed to be theirs. High levels of violence continued regularly through 1998 when The Good Friday Agreement was signed.

Still, the sense we got from talking to our driver (when we could understand him anyway) and locals is that tension between Republicans and Loyalists still exist. This is evidenced by much of the street art, graffiti and murals (although increasingly they’re being drawn with messages of peace). Conway Street in between the two neighborhoods closes at 10:00 pm each night in fear of isolated dust ups. The conflicts are attributable to politics and economics, however the only real violence that happens anymore usually does so around July 12th of each year, at the time of the annual Orange Walk series of parades through town, a British time of celebrating past victories.

BowlingJoe: Northern Ireland's Newest Whiskey Drinker

After the taxi ride, it was time for a pre-dinner ale. We chose to visit the elegant and well-preserved Crown Liquor Saloon downtown. Built in 1849 and full of mahogany, smoked glass, and a marble bar, this establishment is owned by The National Trust. We especially liked the little private seating booth areas called “snugs” complete with their own little door.

For dinner it was the Morning Star Pub & Restaurant where BowlingWidow satisfied her pasta craving and I went with Roast Chicken with Champ (mashed potatoes, scallions, gravy). Afterwards, we walked back to the B&B past the old Queens University where rowdy freshman seemed to own the streets and nightlife.

BowlingWidow Preparing to Risk Her Life on the Rope Bridge

The next morning was our first of two day-long bus tours. Since we didn’t want to rent a car again we thought this would be the best way to get around and see some of the sights north of Belfast. Our first stop was Carrickfergus Castle where we roamed the grounds for a short time. Next it was off to Ballycastle to hike to a rope bridge and check out some amazing scenery.

Inexplicably, we made a couple of more stops en route to our next destination. We figured it out: smoke breaks. The bus drivers need smoke breaks! Finally, we stopped for lunch and soon visited The Old Bushmill’s Irish whiskey distillery. Not enough time for a full tour but we did get to visit the museum, gift shop, and sample a shot of the product. BowlingWidow had a hot toddy which she really enjoyed. Uh oh. I think I may have to make a few toddies for her this winter. As we left the Bushmill’s parking lot, we noticed a Bloodmobile in the parking lot. Some photo ops are simply handed to you.

Whiskey and Blood Drawing: Two Things Made for Each Other

The bus continued to The Giants Causeway, a display of 40,000 rock columns on the north coast that happened naturally as a result of volcanic activity. We spent some time roaming and climbing on these structures and even doing a yoga balance pose or two for good measure. The Causeway was the last true stop we made during the day and we only stopped for a quick picture or two of Dunluce Castle from a distance on the way back to Belfast.

To end the evening we walked from Belfast to our B&B, stopping at a pub called Auntie Annie’s for some snacks and one final Guinness before we were to leave Ireland for Scotland the next morning.

The Giant's Causeway: 40,000 Weird Volcanic Rocks

Next: Edinburgh and the Scottish Highlands

2 comments:

JoeM said...

For someone who drank his way across the UK, you have remarkably detailed recollections. Bravo!

Anonymous said...

Keeping a journal was a good move. There's no way I'm capable of remembering that much detail without it. Rick Steves is right about the journal.