After waking up at an excruciating time (6:00 AM) and walking an excruciating distance with a duffel bag (40 minutes), I ended up at the Dublin bus station, where I caught my bus to the north. This trip was organized by IES (the group that is coordinating my studies over here), so there were about 20 American students coming along with me, including my 4 housemates.
I knew that the border between the Republic and the North was open now, but I still anticipated a sign that said, "Welcome to the Queen's Territory!" or "You are now entering a country with a stable-ish economy!" Unfortunately, there was no such sign. Gradually there was a larger proportion of UK license plates and Union Jacks showed up at roundabouts. That was it. Seeing a different flag, strangely enough, surprised me quite a bit. I am inundated with the Tri-Band (Republic of Ireland flag) in Dublin, and I'm sure there are no Union Jacks outside the UK Embassy's gates.
When we pulled into city centre Belfast, I made a mad-dash straight for the ATM, because the UK has no interest in the Euro as long as the pound sterling is a stronger currency. There might be more to it, but I'm pretty sure that's what it comes down to. The strange thing about the pound in the North is that they aren't issued by the government, they are private notes of debt. There are Ulster Bank notes, Bank of Ireland notes, Northern Ireland Bank notes, etc. No where on the note does it say Bank of England. I find it really strange, like it's the Banking Panic of 1907 or something.
Cool thing about my trip #1: Europa Hotel.
I didn't stay here at all, but I did eat across the street at the Crown Bar. I had a delicious lamb shank and my first Irish coffee (BTW it was not as good at I thought it would be. It may be because of the shitty coffee on these islands, though). But back to the Europa. It is the most bombed hotel in Europe. The IRA hit it 33 times before the ceasefire in 1994, but the beat went on at the Europa and it still is a superb hotel (apparently).
The Belfast trip centered around the Black Cab Taxi Tour. We all hopped in the back of these cabs, driven by people who lived through the Troubles. I saw some of the violent political murals that make the North infamous. We drove down Shankill Rd (Protestant Loyalist) and Falls Rd (Catholic Republican) and by the "Peace" Wall. Part of the tradition of the "Peace" Wall is to write a message on it. My favorite was, "why not give Atheism a try?" Mine is in the slideshow. There was also a row of murals commissioned by the City of Belfast about oppression around the world, like racism, slavery, and civil war.
Comment: It would be weird as hell to live on those roads. You're part of a working-class family that is probably just trying to get by. At this point, you probably don't have sectarian or sovereignty issues at the top of your mind, but there are dozens of tourists taking pictures of the sides of buildings in your neighborhood all the time while they learn the basics on an incredibly intricate situation. Strange.
I was hoping for a little more from the tour. I mean, it was very good and I saw/heard some poignant sights/stories, but I had very high expectations. I wanted to get a little further into the ideologies of each side and how the peace process unfolded. I'm interested enough in the conflict that I have read quite a bit about it, and wanted to delve deeper into it.
After the tour, I boarded a coach bus and went 2 hours north to Port Rush, a small resort town on what may as well be the edge of the world (in reality, it's just the edge of Ireland). Our hotel was across the street from the ocean and my window looked out on it. I was super lucky because I got a queen-sized bed! Score! Housemates Victor and Ethan and I went and climbed on some rocks outside while we waited for it to be dinner time (that sounds downright childish. Like we're 7 or something, but we aren't. We were admiring the beauty of the place).
Dinner was at Coast Restaurant. I had some delicious prawn pasta and had a chance to talk to some IES Americans that I hadn't spoken with before. The best part was the chocolate sponge cake, "Nemesis," for dessert. It was so rich I almost couldn't handle it, but in a good way. I also saw someone who could be my doppelganger. I thought I might have to battle him for the right to be in this universe, but he left before I needed to. He was probably scared of me.
On Friday night, I thought it would be a good idea to wake up at 6:40 to go and walk along the coast at sunrise. In theory it was good, except the part where I wake up at 6:40 without needing to. I did end up waking and doing it, and I am glad I actually did. Victor and I criss-crossed some dunes along a beach, where there were jovial dogs being walked and horses being ridden. This was all before the all-included breakfast, so I was very hungry when we got back to the hotel. The breakfast was delicious - there was bacon and sausage and scones and cereal and yogurt and more!
Now that the clock had passed 11:00, and touring a whiskey distillery wasn't as frowned upon, we went to Bushmills Distillery. The tour was just like all of the other tours of breweries/distilleries (here we have our extra-pure water and barley, we give our drained barley to the local cows and they are sure happy - this is a required joke to tell on any liquor tour), but Bushmills is a working distillery, unlike where Guinness and Jameson give tours. That means Bushmills wins. We did our tasting at the end, where I chose to sample the 100 quid per bottle whiskey. Bushmills is much better than Jameson; it has a more complex flavor and bite.
The next stop was Dunluce Castle. Now there are only runes, partly because some of the original fell into the sea about 400 years ago. I walked around for a bit and oohed and aahed. Is it wrong that I'm getting a little tired of seeing really old castles? Just a little, but there's only so much that can be unique about each castle. Anyway, it was beautiful and part of a breathtaking landscape. I can't imagine living in such a desolate and apparently dangerous place. As I think about it though, the view was spectacular. While we were driving up and first see Dunluce, one has the tendency to shout "WOAH!"
Giant's Causeway took up most of Saturday afternoon. Even after being on the fairly small stone peninsula for two hours, I wanted to stay there longer. The 60 mph winds and stinging rain helped - really, I couldn't imagine being there in any other weather. The thousands of hexagonal pillars slowly leading to the violent North Sea, next to jagged green and black cliffs, isn't suited for sun. Standing with my feet (and sometimes legs) being swallowed by the sea and being scratched by the claws of the rain was very visceral. I came to Ireland wanting to feel waves hit me at Giant's Causeway, and I did. I didn't give a damn about how wet I was going to be (which was really wet); I just poured the water out of my shoes, wrung out my socks, and walked around barefoot for a while. A few hours on the radiator and they were grand.
I have no idea where in Ireland my distant ancestors come from, and I don't think anyone alive in my family does, but I know there is Scots-Irish there. That means they are probably from the North. Since history is just a a narrative loosely based upon fact, I am going on the record to say that my family is from the north of Co. Antrim, where Giant's Causeway is. I did feel a strange sort of homecoming feeling when I was there. It just made sense. Utterly fantastic.
The plan was to make a trip to the Carrick-a-Rede rope bridge on Saturday, but the 60 mph winds forced it to close. The weather was marginally better on Sunday, but that was the only margin that was needed. This bridge used to be used by fishermen to get to the hot spots of salmon fishing. Until they overfished the waters. Now it's a tourist attraction! If you destroy everything but lemons, might as well make lemonade. It is a phenomenal thing to see, however. The turquoise ocean around the bridge crashes into white cliffs. On the island that the bridge leads to is desolate in a colorful way. The brilliant green grasses are cowlicked in every which way all the way to the very edge.
Before we left for several hours of bus rides back to Dublin, we took a strolling hike through Glenariff National Park. The particular path we went on is famous for waterfalls. We aren't talking Niagra or anything here, but there were some very picturesque falls here. It was a good way to wind down, especially since the walk was downhill. At the bottom was a restaurant for lunch, and where our bus met us. We didn't even have to go back uphill!
I did a lot of sleeping on the way home.
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