Ok folks, this entry will, I’m certain, prove to be a long one, so I shall skip the usual apology for waiting so long between entries and hope that you take my word for it that I’m extremely busy.
This past weekend, my study abroad program brought all the programs from across Ireland (Maynooth, Limerick, Belfast, Dublin, Cork & Galway) to Belfast for a long weekend in Northern Ireland. We all left on Thursday morning last and invaded the Jury Inn like Vikings – in other words, we came, we ate, we left a mess. I do believe that between the groups, there are around 80 of us, so I trust that your prayers go out to the lovely people at the hotel who entertained us with smiles on their faces throughout the ordeal of two floors filled with college kids on vacation.
The bus ride from Galway was a tiring, but manageable five hours to Belfast, but my heart really goes out to the Limerick program who spent 8 hours on that coach bus, starting in Limerick, swinging over to Cork to pick up those kids and then heading straight up the coast to NI. However, after a long day for every one of us, I was happy to see my friend Jill from the Limerick program, who visits Galway often and happily agreed to be my roommate for the weekend! Needless to say the night involved a lot of everyone running from room to room and calling each other on the room phones (it was agreed that it was exciting to once again use a landline phone, as it reminded us of the good old days of middle school when we called our friends on the family phone).
However, after chatting it up until we all fell asleep from exhaustion, early the next morning (Friday morning) we all assembled, bleary eyed at breakfast for an early departure on those same buses for a day tour of Northern Ireland. I should pause here and say that my impression of Northern Ireland is that of a completely different country than the Republic of Ireland. I honestly wasn’t anticipating much of a difference between the two nations, but there is a clear delineation between the two, at least visually. This may sound rather obvious given the history of the two countries, but Northern Ireland truly does look more British. The way the houses are built and the towns are set up and the scenery in general truly does evoke a more English way of life. The accents are entirely their own however, a kind of heavy Irish/Scottish peppered with “cheerio”s, which I do believe is the product of the historical presence of the Scottish Presbyterians in Ulster (Northern Ireland). In any case, my bus had a rather nice tour guide named Virginia Moriarty who immediately made me think of Sherlock Holmes, and rather less immediately caused an infection of drowsiness across the entire bus. However, she was plucky and ploughed on with her history of Northern Ireland and list of famous people who called it home (or ancestral) as we drove along the Antrim coast road, which is breathtakingly beautiful and a little nerve-wracking.
The first stop of the day was at a beautiful national park named something along the lines of Carrick-a-Rede (if I recall correctly) where the cliffs were very cool, the water a clear teal blue and the rope-bridge to the adjacent island very, very high up. I was happily oblivious of the bridge as we strolled along the beautiful path towards the bridge, snapping pictures. But then we were given a ticket which we would need to hand the ranger manning the bridge and I tried not to think about it. Of course, as it came my turn to hand over my ticket and step past the archway which covered the entrance to the bridge, I spotted the bridge made of rope and planks, wide enough only for an average-sized person, 60 feet long and 100 feet up over the ocean onto a little island. So, I am so very sorry to report, my mind just went blank with fear and I naturally started to sob and hyperventilate. Poor Scott standing next to me just didn’t know what to do so I ran the other way back up the path where I met the nicest girl ever – Chelsea, who fortified me with a hug and a few words. It’s quite embarrassing to admit, but I seem to have developed a greater and greater fear of falling from a height. But, I suppose everyone has their “thing” which turns them into a damsel in distress.
Back onto the bus within the hour, I was once again ready to prove to the entire IFSA Butler program that I was not, in fact, insane. Luckily, at the next stop, my stunt was completely forgotten because of an even better one. We pulled up to the beautiful ruins of Dunluce Castle which sit on the edge of a cliff (the Irish seriously have a thing for cliffs). The grass was so green, and the ocean lay just below the hollow remains of a magnificent castle. So, naturally, one of the girls of the program proclaimed a long-harbored desire to “storm a castle” and so started running full speed at it while yelling some sort of unintelligible battle cry. Of course everyone turned to look at her as she did so, therefore, naturally, she slipped on the wet grass and flew down the hill, catching air on the way down. And just as you’d expect, we all clapped for her. A memory to treasure forever.
After lunch at a seaside hotel, we next invaded the Giant’s Causeway. This strange rock formation was the creation of a volcanic eruption and basalt rock, but the locals much prefer the story of the giants who created it. Our tour guide gave us the extended version, but for time’s sake I’ll give you the abbreviated one. There once was a giant who lived on the shore of Ireland which faces Scotland, and he used to shout across the straight to the giant on the shores of said adjacent country. Well he built the causeway to cross to the other side after threatening the Scottish giant, but he spotted how much bigger the other giant was and he ran back home. Well his giantess wife was very cunning and she dressed her husband up like a baby and invited the Scottish giant into her home and showed him her “baby” while her husband was out hunting. The Scottish giant took one look at that giant baby and thought about how big the dad must be, and he high-tailed it back to Scotland, ripping up the causeway as he went. Fun story isn’t it? Nevertheless, the rock formations are very cool and we had fun climbing them as kids do.
Finally we headed home for dinner and were set loose into the city to find our way. Luckily, my friends and I found a fantastic Mexican Restaurant that was so good we ate ourselves into a food coma and crashed in our luxurious hotel double beds that night. And did I mention the shower/tub? Like washing in a palace compared to the cubicle I’ve been whacking my elbows against for the past 3 months.
Saturday morning it was arranged for us all to take a black-taxi tour of the city which centered on West Belfast and the Protestant-Catholic conflict. This was by far the most touching and profound of my experiences in Northern Ireland given that our drives were a mixture of Protestants and Catholics who lived through it and have made peace with it and each other. My driver was Tom, and he is an Irish Catholic, and he was just one of the funniest and nicest people I’ve ever met. He gave us his own personal stories mixed with the historical facts and we got out in Protestant and Catholic neighborhoods where he and the other drivers lived. It was a powerful tour and remarkable to us Americans who grew up post Cold-War and in comfortable suburbs. We even learned of the quasi-cold war that exists today between the groups. We even signed the walls built around the Catholic neighborhood to keep rocks and people out. To this day the gates to the neighborhood are locked every night at seven to keep unwanted visitors out. That just astounds me, but our drivers/guides told us that they expect these walls to come down in our lifetime if not theirs, and the wall is covered with signatures and messages of hope and love for unified Belfast. It was a poignant part of the day.
After our tour, we were given free time for the rest of our stay and I joined many people in wandering around the Christmas market downtown for a few hours. It was very interesting place, with vendors from all over Europe, and I had to remind myself that I had absolutely no use for a Reindeer pelt or a wild-boar burger. I did, however, partake in some mulled wine and an almond pastry while I gawked – yum.
After the Christmas Market came a visit to Victoria’s Square shopping Mall, which is this remarkable outdoor mall that you just sort of have to see to appreciate. It’s immense for one thing, and modern in design, which makes the upper floors sort of float. It’s hard to explain, I highly suggest seeing it for yourself. Or perhaps just ask me for pictures. It is here that we first stumbled across a couple of twenty-something guys with t-shirts and big signs that proclaimed- “FREE HUGS”. I was skeptical of course, but upon further investigation, my large group of friends all agreed that they were very good huggers, and that they just wanted to spread some joy around. They gave us a business card and their facebook page does in fact list them as a kind of non-profit organization which is just dedicated to brightening up your day with hugs. We spotted them 3 more times before the day was through – and yes we hugged them every time. As a group we also agreed that Americans are far too cynical about such things, and that if you tried to do that in some place like New York or Chicago, you might be punched, arrested, or simply given strange looks while people made a wide-berth around you.
Dinner once again, was eaten out and about, but it was more difficult to find a table this time around seeing as how we had accumulated nine people on our search for food. Finally, T.G.I. Fridays found a spot for us after 50 minutes of waiting. So we scarfed down our American style food and regrouped at the hotel (and by regrouped I mean a myriad of things including napping, showering, watching X-Factor, and one industrious room of boys who filled their bathtub with ice cubes and bear bottles). While I should note that among the eighty or so group of students there, there was an excursion into the city every night, but I only partook in the one on Saturday night which found us at a local pub for a couple of hours. It was fun and I had a lovely conversation with a man who introduced himself by saying: “Did you know you look like David Bowie?” Oh the people you find in pubs. However, fear not, any of you who were worried about my honor; my large group of friends was within touching distance the entire time we were out and about and we work as team, keeping eyes on each other at all times – promise.
Sunday morning was a sad one when we had to bid adieu to all our friends who were studying in different cities, especially my lovely roommate Jill, who is a geology major and literally salivated over the geographical voodoo at the Giant’s Causeway. The weekend was exactly what I needed before the next two-week push towards final exams and the end of the semester. Now, all that’s left is onwards and upwards.
