Swan Abroad: Northern Ireland - Belfast and Derry

Hello again!

Surely someday I will be caught up with this again...

I left Cork for Belfast in the morning, catching a bus up to Dublin where I would transfer to another bus for the final leg of the long, long journey north.

Unfortunately the weather was not exactly in my favor and the ride between Cork and Dublin took longer than it should have. As a result I missed my connecting bus. By roughly two minutes.

Merde.

But all's well that ends well and I was able to find a bus leaving about a half hour later and bought a second ticket for Dublin to Belfast which I did not miss this time.

I arrived in Belfast to dreary skies and rain (what else is new in that part of the world?) and then had the long damp walk to the hostel carrying a backpack that, I swear, sometimes feels like it weighs as much as I do. But I made it!

That evening I consulted yelp for dinner ideas, and found that most elusive of things I miss from back home - decent Mexican food. Was it mind blowingly amazing? No, but it was remarkably good, and it satisfied the craving. I quite happily went back the next day for more. Oh, salsa...

My next morning I went out walking around the city, with no clear agenda except to eventually make it to the titanic museum area on the other side of the city. On the way I wandered aimlessly and found, mostly by accident, the city hall, a rather impressive church, Victoria square... Basically an assortment of architectural wonders.

City hall.

Titanic memorial at city hall.

This completely random church I found. I was standing outside and a local walked up to me and told me I needed to go inside and look at the ceiling.

He was definitely right.

Ah, shopping...

I loved these fountains. I sat there for ages watching kids and adults alike play in the water.

Eventually I did make it across the bridge to the Titanic museum, which, to give credit to the guy at reception in the hostel, "is good if you are interested in shipbuilding, but unfortunately Leo isn't there." Lucky for me I actually found the shipbuilding information rather interesting and overall it was worthwhile. I did not, however, allow them to take my photo upon entry with the movie backgrounds and silly poses. Nor did I buy anything in the gift shop. Perhaps I'm a bit of a grump but I find it a little uncomfortable seeking to profit or have a laugh about something so tragic.

The museum from across the water.

Green and brown are entirely different colors in this country.

On the walk back. I honestly don't remember what this building was.

The next morning I had scheduled a tour to the Giant's Causeway, so I left bright and early. Much like the tour I took in Galway, we had a whirlwind adventure featuring castles, beautiful natural landscapes, Carrick-a-Rede rope bridge, lunch, and the causeway.

A castle. In Ireland. Honestly, the castles and churches started all running together a few months ago...

Crossing the rope bridge, for the record, was absolutely terrifying. Imagine a narrow bridge over a steep precipice, accompanied by wind strong enough to make it shimmy. Why on earth I continue to do things like this to myself escapes me.

Yeah, doesn't look so bad. But there was no way I was stopping halfway across to pose for a photo, let me tell you.

One of the kids in front of me had an utter meltdown coming over the bridge. Of course she had to cross it again, or stay forever. I remember looking at her while she was wailing and repeating "I don't want to go across again," and saying to her dad, "oh honey, believe me, I know exactly how you feel."

Another castle. This one had the added bonus of having bits that have fallen into the sea.

Then, the highlight, the Giant's Causeway.

"The legend tells us that the Irish Giant Finn McCool had a rival - a Scottish giant named Benandonner. Finn McCool decided to build a causeway to Scotland so that he could challenge his adversary in battle. When the work was completed, the causeway stretched from North Antrim to Staffa.

Bennandonner accepted the invitation to walk over to Ireland and fight for supremacy. As Benandonner appeared over the horizon, Finn McCool realised in horror that he had taken on a rival much bigger than himself. He ran home to his wife, Oonagh. What to do?
The quick thinking Oonagh disguised Finn as a baby and made him curl up in an enormous cradle. Benandonner - faced with the sight of this huge ‘child’ took fright at the thought of the size of his father and fled back to Scotland tearing up the causeway in his wake." (Source: Causeway coast and glens website).

In reality the causeway is a result of volcanic activity, but you have to give the Irish credit for creativity.

How this fits into the story I don't know, but I like it.

I finished up the day with a quiet evening at the hostel, because I had a bus to catch the next morning.

I spent about two hours traveling to Derry from Belfast and arrived in the early afternoon. When I got to the hostel nobody answered the door (what is it with me and m.i.a accommodation in this country?) but since I was early for check in I decided to go have lunch and try again later. Down the street I found a pub where I had a burger and pint before trying again, which this time was more successful. I got myself settled, read for a while, and had some good Indian food for dinner. The next day being Easter I popped by the grocery store for some supplies, just in case everything was closed for the holiday.

On Easter Sunday I took myself on a stroll around town, where I learned a little about the history of the city up through the more recent troubled times. I think it's safe to say that there's still a great deal of animosity towards the British in the area, which, let's be honest, is not entirely unreasonable to say the least.

Heading up the old city wall.

The self-walking dog...

The peace bridge. For the record, the Catholics still (largely) live on one side of the river and the Protestants on the other. The bridge is a relatively new addition to join the two sides more.

The cannons on the old city walls are all dated and stamped.

This is what I call green.

My first glimpse of Free Derry.

Mosaic on the mall?

The Bloody Sunday memorial.

Finally getting some use out of the new shades.

I really loved Derry and was sorry I had such a short visit there, but having dawdled through Ireland for so long I was anxious to spend at least a little time in Scotland before heading to Amsterdam to meet up with mom for her visit in April. But Derry has such spirit. They've truly been through hell, and quite recently, and now just wish for normalcy and peace. The memorials and murals really gave me a lot to think about. Most of those that died on Bloody Sunday in 1972 were the age of my youngest brother. Peaceful, unarmed protesters killed by the British army just for speaking out against oppression. It took over thirty years of diligent work by those families devastated by that day to clear the names of those young men.

So often I am struck by both how beautiful this world is and how devastatingly awful it is at the same time. People have such capacity for injury, but at the same time, such capacity for love and kindness.

I could go on, but I fear I would never finish this posting if I do.

The next morning I took a bus back to Belfast, where I took another bus to the ferry, spent a couple hours sipping pints on the boat, then took a bus to Glasgow, then a final bus to the area of my hostel, where I arrived and promptly fell asleep in the vicinity of 6pm.