We started Saturday bright and early - our bus left around 9am, and train track closings for construction required a bit of a hike for us. We set out eager to see the city, though, and Elizabeth was excited to show us around.
After arriving in Belfast at about 11:30, our first stop was the apartment of Liz's friend. After stepping out of the train station, we rounded a corner to head to the apartment. Liz said, "We're going to have to walk through Sandy Row a bit to get to the apartment." This statement meant absolutely nothing to me, but the next thing I know, we're rounding a corner and suddenly staring at this:
I was at an absolute loss for words. A mural of a masked paramilitary trooper isn't what you expect to see in a middle-class neighborhood in the United Kingdom, but sure enough, there it was. I found it very intimidating; there was no mistaking this as anything but a Protestant neighborhood and the image of the paramilitary trooper creates the sense of a very protected area - despite the pledge each side made to put down their arms. I found the sign hostile in every respect and was at a loss for words. I stood there agape and only after Aditya asked Liz if it would be proper to take a photo did I realize that yes, I need a picture of this, if only to always remember what it felt like to come around this corner. I fumbled with my camera and snapped a photo. I didn't make much attempt to line up a good shot or to get the perfect angle . . . I simply stood there wondering what else was in store for us.
I went to Belfast on Saturday with no expectations. Before arriving in Northern Ireland, I admittedly knew only the bare minimum of information about the Troubles. I certainly didn't know what to anticipate about the current state of the city, both mentally and physically.
Physically, the city is in great shape. Cathedral Quarter is still in some disarray, with buildings blown out that haven't been rebuilt:
The rest of the city was in normal condition. Even those bits that were still in a state of rubble were often adjacent to new townhouses or stores. Overall, Belfast had lots of shopping, restaurants, cafes, banks, offices . . . it looked as you would expect a major city to look. I did notice a lot of it was starkly newer than other parts of Europe I've seen. A consequence, I suppose, of having to rebuild a city time and time again for 40 years.
After a brief walking tour of the city - we saw City Hall, St. Anne's Cathedral, Europa Hotel, Queen's Bar - we stopped for a brief lunch in a market. It was full of booths and tents of every imaginable food: pulled pork sandwiches, Lebanese food, paella, cupcakes, bread, tea. All of it tempting, and I'm sure all of it delicious. We couldn't do much rummaging, however. We had to scarf down our lunch and head back into the rain to meet the driver for our Black Cab Tour.
Fred was a wonderful man. He gave away a hint of a bias, but this was to be expected . . . no one could have lived through these events and given an entirely objective account of the facts. Overall, the Black Cab Tour was the best touristy thing you could possibly do . . . anywhere. You have the advantage of a guide who lived through what he is telling you. He intimately knows the details and has memories relating to everything he showed us.
Fred was never a paramilitary member for either side. As he told us, his father used to tell him that if you join a group you will end up in one of two places: (1) in prison or (2) six feet under.
Fred took us through the Protestant neighborhoods first and it became readily apparent that mentally, this city has a lot of healing left to do. We went back through Sandy Row and saw many more murals, all of which, I realized, were painted on the sides of townhouses. I found this somewhat eerie, and each time I looked at a mural on a home, I thought of the children inside and what it must be like to be a child growing up in an area still so shaken up by a very violent, recent history.
Next we went to the walls that divide up Belfast. Cement barriers have fences built on top with barbed wire on top of those, in the style of the Berlin Wall. They prevent Protestant and Catholics in lower-class neighborhoods from living next door to one another. All are lined with murals. The first wall that we came to (which was almost two miles long) was painted by New York graffiti artists last Easter - they came to Belfast to teach their art to children here.
After signing our name on the wall, we passed through a security checkpoint (this one appeared to be unmanned, but the one we drove through later, to re-enter the Protestant side, was manned). We drove into the Catholic neighborhood and went along the other side of the wall. Notably, on this side homes were built up against the wall. To prevent damage from objects thrown over the wall, protective barriers were built, screening in the back of the houses and guarding them from flying objects.
At this point, Fred's bias began to shine through a bit, as he asked us to imagine what it's like to live with such contraptions on the back of our home.
From there we went deeper into the Catholic neighborhood. We saw murals of Bobby Sands and the 9 other hunger strikers who died. We saw the peace wall and the international wall. We talked with Fred about the integration of schools and the hope this provides for the future.
It was a somber hour, but it was fascinating.
Fred dropped us off by the botanical gardens. A steady rain had been falling all day and we were quite wet; we found our way to a coffee shop and partook in some tea, stew, wheaten bread, hot chocolate, and a sugary desert called "fifteens." I can honestly say that one of the first things I will do when I'm back in Minneapolis is bake a loaf of wheaten bread. It was amazing.
From there we headed to Ulster Museum, a hodgepodge collection of history, science, and art. We spent enough time here to fully absorb a display about the Troubles and learn the timeline of all that we had just seen. Fred's tour was emotional, real, and intriguing. The display was an entirely unbiased, factual account of everything that happened and was a solid history lesson. The display and the Black Cab Tour made for a sober visit to Belfast, but we went there for an education. And we got it.
The museum was followed by another coffee shop (because, yes, it was still raining) followed by a Chinese buffet with some of Elizabeth's friends. Aditya and I were back on the bus by 8 and in Dublin again by 10:30.
Overall, it was a truly fascinating trip. Many thanks to Elizabeth for being our tour guide! It was a short day with lots crammed in, but I wouldn't have had it any other way. I'm so glad we were able to go to Belfast and I only wish that we had more time to spend in the city.
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