Actually two, but this title sounds better. Actually by connecting the Unionist-Nationalist conflict to the USSR-US conflict in Chess, the show featuring "One Night in Bangkok," one could make the argument that [SLAP!] . . . sorry.
Friday I left straight from school to get the train from Dublin Connolly train station to Belfast Central.
Problem #1: One of the viaducts between the two cities collapsed. I knew about this in advance and anticipated taking a bus for part of the journey. No worries.
Problem #2: There was a . . . disruption along the lines that caused the Belfast travelers to change back from the train to a bus at Newry, which was a surprise to us and apparently the workers at Newry train station. Minor worries.
Problem #3: I got to Belfast 30 minutes late and 30 minutes before my hostel closed its registration desk. Concrete worries. What proceeded was a walk-run through an unfamiliar city and country following a computer-printed map lit by streetlights. It worked! And it was fun! I arrived at the kickass Arnie's Backpackers in time!
Problem #3: I got to Belfast 30 minutes late and 30 minutes before my hostel closed its registration desk. Concrete worries. What proceeded was a walk-run through an unfamiliar city and country following a computer-printed map lit by streetlights. It worked! And it was fun! I arrived at the kickass Arnie's Backpackers in time!
After throwing my stuff up on my bed I went to the common room to watch the end of Die Hard with two other travelers my age. As we said goodnight, we proceeded to the same room, because apparently we were roommates. I fell asleep early, because my body is fixed to that pesky teacher's body schedule. ("Pesky" modifies "schedule" here, not "teacher.")
Saturday I woke up to go to St. George's Market with Chen and Anna, two people around my age who work at the hostel for now and invited me to go out last night. St. George's Market is an indoor market with over a hundred craft and food booths in Belfast city centre. I bought a muffin here, a cookie there, a sausage biscuit, an apple, and a few other items for about a pound apiece (or a "pind" apiece, as the local accent apparently goes). There was a live guitar and flute act in the center of the market. After lunchtime I split off from the group and head out to the city.
I grabbed a tour bus that took me around the city and its outskirts. The remarkable part was the journey through the neighborhoods of north Belfast still separated along Catholic-Nationalist and Protestant-Unionist lines. There are building-sized fences in some places that divide the neighborhoods. One tourist once asked our guide when they will be taken down. "When we no longer need them," he replied. "They're peace walls. Right now they appear to be working." The guide also pointed out some of the streets that were the most active during the Troubles. He had a great Belfast humor: "Here's a place for some great shots, I mean pictures." Dozens of murals displaying peace, history, or "hooray for our side" cover Belfast. At no point did I feel unsafe, but at every point I was wary of the very recent history.
After the tour I found the Crown Bar and took a walking pub tour through Belfast. (For professional reasons I must declare that at no point did I imbibe in any alcohol, beer, booze, spirits, hooch, brewskies, rotgut, or grog.) The tour was pretty cool, but more importantly I got to know the twelve people I was with. At the last pub a group of us stayed after. A Dane, two Scots, two Dubliners, and I stayed at McHughs, played their Guitar Hero contest, hung around, and had a really good night out. It was the best night out with others I've had since I got here.
I grabbed a tour bus that took me around the city and its outskirts. The remarkable part was the journey through the neighborhoods of north Belfast still separated along Catholic-Nationalist and Protestant-Unionist lines. There are building-sized fences in some places that divide the neighborhoods. One tourist once asked our guide when they will be taken down. "When we no longer need them," he replied. "They're peace walls. Right now they appear to be working." The guide also pointed out some of the streets that were the most active during the Troubles. He had a great Belfast humor: "Here's a place for some great shots, I mean pictures." Dozens of murals displaying peace, history, or "hooray for our side" cover Belfast. At no point did I feel unsafe, but at every point I was wary of the very recent history.
After the tour I found the Crown Bar and took a walking pub tour through Belfast. (For professional reasons I must declare that at no point did I imbibe in any alcohol, beer, booze, spirits, hooch, brewskies, rotgut, or grog.) The tour was pretty cool, but more importantly I got to know the twelve people I was with. At the last pub a group of us stayed after. A Dane, two Scots, two Dubliners, and I stayed at McHughs, played their Guitar Hero contest, hung around, and had a really good night out. It was the best night out with others I've had since I got here.
The next morning I jumped a bus outside the Belfast International Youth Hostel and Causeway Cafe, where I had my first Ulster fry. The bus took me up to the Carrick-a-Rede rope bridge around some more absolutely gorgeous landscape. After that we headed up to Giant's Casueway, which would have sparked my imagination more during my conspiracy theorist days in middle school.
180 miles later I was back in Cabinteeley Village.
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