Day 3: Belfast & Armagh

Day 3 - BELFAST & ARMAGH

To recap to last night, I invited the adults down to share a final pint in Dublin. I am pleased to announce that most of them took us up on the offer, and the 3 teachers and I joined Sean, our coach driver for a few drinks, talking, and watching the Netherlands-Sweden women’s game. It was a good hoot. I really just like talking to people where we visit as much as - if not sometimes more than - the sightseeing. Sean had plenty to talk about being a laborer (he used to be a stone mason before the financial collapse in 2008), being a dad of 4 and being away from home plenty, about raising his kids in a Gaelic-language-first school (he was brought up in an English school), about Gaelic football and Gaelic hockey (I forget the term for it), and about the state of affairs with the UK, notably the difference between Northern Irish and Irish.

We turned in about 11p-Midnight and had an early wake up at 6:15a, loading the buses and out the hotel by 7:45a. We traveled the green highways on our way to cross the border. Michael joked that many Americans often ask how one knows when that transition occurs into the UK. His favorite story is one American boy had a great response: “the cell phone provider changes.” That’s about it. For now, it’s a soft border. But everybody is waiting on the the fallout from Brexit to determine how a defined border will both economically and culturally impact these 2 nations. When I asked Sean what the common Irish response was to Brexit, he said “we all said two words: ‘we’re f——d.’”

We didn’t feel that way when we arrived in Belfast, though. The city of 335,000 certainly had a different feel than did the capital of the Republic of Ireland. Belfast was at once point the industrial mega-center of late 19th and early 20th century United Kingdom, not just Ireland, so the population boomed from 85,000 to nearly 400,000. Just like much of our industrial midwest, its experiencing a renaissance. The large shipbuilding dry docks, rope makers, and linen factories have given way to an upstart and growing tourist industry.

The first taste of that industry was when we picked up our guide, John “Jackie” Johnson. We took a bus tour of the Shankhill District, where there are murals to point where history meets politics. Spoiler alert: this is one of my favorite things to take in, so apologies in advance for a post that may be a bit long-winded.

Belfast is split into 4 quadrants, as is Ireland. The western quadrant of the city is the part that remained both working class and primarily Catholic. Jackie gave a brief history of the “Troubles,” which he grew up with. This is a term used to subterfuge the strife that encapsulated the island from 1968-1998. Jackie was born in 1972, and as a growing boy he said his house was burned to the ground. Some of his friends and his older brother were thrown in jail. The Europa (sp?) Hotel he said is one of the most bombed sites of the 20th century, mostly because both republicans (those who wanted a full Ireland) and unionists (those who favored the 6 Northern Counties to keep ties to the English crown) targeted the journalists who lived here, so their cause - and their particular bias in it - would stay in the news.

If you’re a bit older, you probably would recognize the power of media attention for a political cause when I mention the name “Bobby Sands.” This 27-year-old was elected as a Member of Parliament the same time PM Margaret Thatcher won re-election. Sands’s election was intended to be a shot at the bow to London, and it helped garner American attention. Not many Irish names are common in our modern nomenclature, but Sands is there because his political party (Sein Feinn, the IRA’s official party which means “us ourselves”) were able to enhance his image while he was on a 66-day hunger strike. He ended up dying in prison as an elected official, a powerful showcase of the political disparity that was prevalent for its time. 

Of course, the movement was much bigger than Bobby Sands. Or Catholicism versus Anglicanism (the Church of England is better known as “Episcopalian” in the United States, by the way). Or the Queen. Or land. Or rights. Or poverty. Or presumption. It was all of it, plain and simple.

We looked back at the mural walls, which were a balance of both the history of the island was it was a generic struggle for minority rights (those Irish Catholic republican volunteers were a much smaller contingent than they are today). On the wall were a few murals advocating for Palestinians, to end the war in Yemen, and the most recent addition was from 2 weeks ago: calling out the UK, US, and other countries for selling arms to the Saudis. If someone wants to post on the mural, they need to have it approved by a committee and then pay for it themselves. I asked Jackie what he thought was next - maybe Hong Kong? Russian media? He guessed “Black Lives Matter.”

On the other side of the wall where there was room to stretch and walk, we saw what it was used for: a division between the neighbors, one union / Protestant / Scotch-Irish / moved here for a new promise, the other republican / Catholic / Irish / lived here for as long as the sun has risen and set. 

Instead of there being pro-Palestinian murals on the union side of the wall, one finds a “we stand with you” for the Israeli soldier. Jackie joked, “if one side likes green peppers, the other side will like the red ones.” I asked him who likes President Trump, and he laughed “that’s one thing we can can actually agree upon - nobody here, at least.”

The oddness of the wall is in what words people use for it, which indicates the power of language. On one side of the wall, one’s terrorist is a savior and vice versa. The IRA can either be heroes or hated. The same could be said about the wall. What’s it for? Is it really a wall for peace or hate? Has it served its purpose, or is it still an essential? There are no easy answers for these questions. 

Most importantly, the wall has changed with the inability to answer its intent. Jackie told us how it used to be taller, but then was chopped down only to have a fence reestablished. Why? People were lobbing rubbish, including paint cans, rocks, and even bombs back-and-forth across it. Everything but the latter in the last decade. Every bit of reconciliation is met with a recapturing of doubt, I suppose.

Jackie did a great job talking about the complexities that surround this wall, Northern Ireland, and her future and past. The best analogy I can compare to is the idea that this is a possible tinderbox, waiting for the right match to catch it aflame. Or maybe it’s the lightness of paper protecting a jewel in time. Jackie said he spends most of his time not on tour bridging those gaps to lessen the divide. There’s plenty to criticize of the English government about when he was a kid, but 2 things he gave them credit for was the notion that many Irish who had been landless were able to rise up a bit on a lease and purchase plan. Additionally, many young kids were paired with the person of the opposing religion and went to the States for a few months, just to see they weren’t really that different from one another. Jackie didn’t do this, but his older brother did. He said his job is to take kids from the working class west side, where he’s from and still lives, and to show them the same Irish sun to the next generation. 

Our lunch was in downtown Belfast, right next to the city hall. We were able to meander through the walkable streets, in and out of shops where we could find a quick bite. Though there wasn’t as many choices as Dublin, it was extremely pedestrian- and kid-friendly. About half of our group went to one spot Bob and Brick’s while the others joined Healey and me at a chain called Avoca. It was just like Killkenny - an amazing choose-your-own adventure meal. I had a lentil loaf that sounds as gross as it was actually tasty. Coupled with a bunch of salads (broccoli, feta, and tomato; green bean, snap pea, and broccolini; and a carrot slaw), I felt a good reboot from the very heavy, meet-and-gravy type of meals we’d been consuming, especially from breakfast on out!

The kids had been so consumed with food that most of them didn’t even eat lunch. They missed out, because it was a tasty spot.

After lunch, we walked through city hall. On the outside, some fitness instructor was coaching a class and recording it. Inside, a group of about 20 were getting wedding photos. It was a fun contrast, but still lots of smiling faces there. There was a bit of a museum as well, and I was surprised to see the Mayor of the Northern Irish capital was an elected member of Sinn Fein, the republican (different that US Republican) political party, which favored “one Ireland.”

Back on the bus, we traveled to the Titanic Museum. Since the 4 of us are a group of history teachers, we’re pretty keen and critical of museums, but we (and pretty much everybody on the trip) absolutely loved this piece of architecture; it’s meant to be as tall as the Titanic was in the dry docks that were nearby and to be shaped like an iceberg. But what was inside - a true Titanic Experience in all methods imaginable - was the truly special part.

The museum did a great job of blending Belfast-bred specificity from her origins to her future with the generic tale of England, attached, of course, to the story of arguably the world’s most famous ship.  Some of the highlights involve a deep-sea theater view of the wreckage, an actual ride as if one was a riveter installing the sheet metal on the Titanic’s exterior, and plenty of interactive displays and manipulative. Built in 2012, this museum is truly one of the best historical experiences I have ever toured. Even though I did a research paper on the Titanic, there was still plenty I learned about it and the town, people, and company (H&W, who still have their mammoth cranes here) that built it.

Since we had a bit of time extra after finishing the museum, several of the adults sped a quick walk over to the Game of Thrones traveling exhibit. Belfast was home to much of the filming of the show, so I was able to snap some photos of King’s Landing set (the $80 million that was torched still from Khalesi and the final episode’s penultimate ending), but I wasn’t about to pay the 17.5 Pounds to get in for 30 minutes worth of pictures with props and costumes. I let my economic conscience and tour-leading responsibilities outweigh my need to consume such a want. Still, it was fun to look others’ photos who did go in.

Before we loaded on the bus, Michael, our tour director, saw that a couple of dudes were playing their violins in a nifty little pub. He had a musical scratch he had to itch, so he reached into his luggage quick, went inside, and played his flute with them for a few songs. I got everybody off the bus to catch some photos, videos, and smiles as he touted his skills. He’s quite good. And boy did we have fun because of that experience.

We then spent our one night at Hotel City Armagh. What an exquisite lobby, even better room, and even better than that dinner. I had a tasty Caesar salad, salmon, and plenty of veggies and cheesy potatoes. Everybody seemed to enjoy themselves with the food. It was here that we also said goodbye to Sean, our first friend on the tour - at least officially. Jalyn, our oldest student on the tour, said some kind words about him and his driving and professionalism. He certainly leaves big shoes to fill for our next coach driver.

The biggest fun surprise of the day was walking into the City of Armagh, which was about 45 minutes away from Belfast. This was the small town feel we were ancy for after a couple of cities. We visited the two different cathedrals, both named St. Patrick, one the original now Anglican sitting at the top of the hill and guarded by a wall; the other a Catholic cathedral facing the backside of the church and reaching her spires higher than it. We then walked passed the green and had a lovely, leisurely stroll on such a goregeously brilliant evening. It’s hard not to engorge ourselves on the weather when it’s still sunny at 10p, which it was. One has to trick themselves into going to sleep, actually. That’s where we were, no doubt. But, with a 4:15a wake up, sleep was something that had to be done.

It’s now 6a, and we’re waiting at the Belfast ferry to head over to Scotland. More to come tomorrow. But the land of mystical stories awaits the last leg of our tour.