Belfast to Dublin

Getting into Belfast after a day of travel by bus, ferry and then bus again from Scotland, I walked out of the bus station and started off on the short walk to my hostel. Situated just off the infamous Sandy Row in the heart of Belfast, I couldn't help but notice the numerous union jacks and republican slogans lining the street. Later I would walk up to the start of the Sandy Row to take a picture of the two-storey mural declaring the loyalist roots of the Protestants, complete with a balaclava-clad militiaman holding a rifle. I found this brazen show of allegiance chilling, but it is seemingly par for the course in Belfast.

One of my roommates in the hostel was a Scottish guy who was in Belfast to conduct some interviews for his Master's thesis on non-governmental organizations in post-conflict zones, and talking to him gave me some insight into what the people of Belfast have been through in recent history. While Belfast is technically a "post-conflict zone," as this Scottish academic termed it, the night before I left there was a fire-bombing, and the tension in the streets was almost palpable in some places. I may have been imagining this tension after spending a couple of hours in the Ulster museum, looking through displays highlighting The Troubles, the time of armed conflict between Irish republicans and the British army, but there is no denying that The Troubles are something that you do not bring up in casual conversation in Northern Ireland if you want to make friends.

The Ulster Museum, and its free admission, was the highlight of my time in Northern Ireland, and I really didn't do much else besides wandering the streets and getting a feel for the city. Only two nights in Belfast, and then I headed south by bus to Dublin.

A number of people I got to know on the Trans-Mongolian trip that I was a part of are in Dublin as well, and it has been nice to have some ready-made friends as it were, and we have been meeting up for meals and drinks in the evening.

Dublin is the home of so many famous authors - James Joyce, Frank O'Connor, Oscar Wilde and Jonathan Swift to name just a few that I am familiar with - and I spent a few hours wandering through the Dublin Writers' Museum, proud of the fact that my background in English literature got me my money's worth from the displays. It is interesting that while Dubliners claim Joyce as a native son, he toiled in self-imposed exile for most of his career, writing about the city he knew from memory. One of the books I have read on this trip was Joyce's "A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man" as well as his collection of short stories "Dubliners," and it has been interesting to walk the actual streets that Joyce's characters walk. While there are posters, a bridge, even a statue, all drawing attention to Joyce's work, I was most struck by his inclusion at the Guinness factory. The seventh floor Gravity Bar, encirled by three hundred and sixty degrees of plexi-glass allowing for panoramic views of Dublin seemed an unlikely place for literary allusions. However, I read excperpts from "Ulysses," "Finnegan's Wake," "Dubliners," and "A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man" pasted to inside of the windows as I knocked back my complimentary pint of Guinness.

Besides the Guinness factory, the other tour that I went on was at Jameson's Distillery, and I was one of the lucky eight among the tour group that got to do a taste test at the end of the guided tour. It was comprised of three shots; one of Jameson's, one of Jack Daniel's and one of Glenfiddich Scotch. They were all half-shots, as well as being diluted with water, but nonetheless the American woman sitting beside me quickly decided I was considerably more interesting than I actually was and we chatted about this and that as her husband continually interjected with the suggestion that she might like something to eat. "I know I'm drunk, but we are having a very nice conversation," she said, and it wasn't until a bit later that he was able to convince her that it was time to leave.

I am composing this post at seven in the morning after walking a friend back to her hostel in the wee hours of the morning and realizing that internet access here is free. While the bars here stop serving at 2:30 AM, three of us decided that the night was still young and stayed up - and got to see the significantly light full-moon night turn into day. The hostel that I am poaching internet from also has a free continental breakfast which includes ham, sausage, hash-browns and a serving of fruit salad, so I think I will stay here a bit longer and help myself to the feast, that is if I don't fall asleep first.