So this past weekend we went on a school trip up to Belfast. Unfortunately for me and a few others, we didn't get home until 6 am that morning and had to get up at 7 am to catch our bus. The reason is that we caught the last DART into the city Thursday night to go to the one bar in Dublin that plays baseball games to watch the Sox-Yankees playoffs final, which b/c of the time difference started at 1 am here. The bar was supposed to be closed but the owner kept it open for us and just hid us away in the basement (like 30 Americans, mostly Sox fans, and we had to sneak out the back delivery door in the end). It was pretty awesome that the Red Sox nation came together even so far away and so late at night for this...we have the best fans. They were like 3 Yankees fans with us and they were all obnoxious. It was an awe-inspiring game, but we were severely disappointed in the end and somberly made our way home at 6 to get a (very) little sleep. I'll never forget it though.
So Friday we went up to Belfast and I basically dozed through the three classes we had. We were staying at Queen's University and one of the other girls and I slept in a room that looked like the color pink had thrown up on. It was soooo pink. Really disturbing. So I won't talk too much about Friday night in Belfast mostly b/c I have only snatches of memory of it, but the entire IPA group partied like rock stars and it was much fun. Lots of photo evidence from that, luckily I'm not in any b/c I was the one taking the pictures. About the time that a 30 year old married guy with 3 kids was hitting on me at one of the bars and talking about my "nice clean skin" I knew it was time to go and crash in the pink room.
The next morning we had a bus tour of the city and also of the outlying neighborhoods, where much of the "troubles" went on. The neighborhoods are strictly divided between Protestant and Catholic (even though that division isn't necessarily indicative of political leanings...) and there was actually a huge barbed-wire topped wall dividing some of them. The neighborhoods (Shankill, Falls Rd, etc.) were covered in political murals dedicated to their mutual paramilitary groups (UVF, IRA, etc.). It was amazing how much hatred can live on in the hearts of normal ppl even though there hasn't been much trouble there since the ceasefire a decade or so ago. There were little kids kicking a soccer ball off of a wall covered in pictures of guns and slogans of violence. One mural even depicted a peace dove carrying a machine gun instead of an olive branch. It was a beautiful city, but the deep-seated prejudices and hate were phenomenal. Not a city I would ever want to live in or raise children.
On a brighter note, after the rest of the group returned to Dublin a friend and I went up even more northwards to see the Causeway Coast. This was a very strange trip b/c basically anything that I had planned out got completely fucked up and it was a wonder we had a place to sleep or a way to get back to Dublin at all...and yet it all ended up working out even better than it would have had we been able to stick with the plan. Obviously someone was looking out for us. We got to see the Giants Causeway, which is often said to be the eighth wonder of the world...its a volcanic formation of rocks, but I like the myth better which says that the giant, Finn MacCool, built it to go over to Scotland where the woman he was in love with was living. We got to see it at sunset (accidentally), so that was beautiful. Then we ended up having to chill around there waiting for a cab to take us to Portrush (which was not the place we were meant to stay, but was actually the place we wanted to go...if that makes ANY sense). Then we got to Portrush w/o actually having a place to sleep b/c the youth hostel was all booked up. There was one other budget place to stay which both the hostel and our cab driver told us we didn't want to stay at...but we were desperate so we went there...and I can only describe this place as the seediest place I have ever been. I'm almost positive (not joking right now) that this place doubled as either a brothel or a crackhouse. People tried to break into our room numerous times during the night. It was really quite amusing b/c we were too tired to care how dodgy it was. A character building experience you might say...luckily the other girl isn't high maintenance, b/c I would have strangled her. We both got a good laugh out of it...as we ran away the next morning. (not on time either...I set my clock incorrectly and while we thought we were getting a bright and early start at 7, it was really 9...which wouldn't give us time to go see my family castle, except that again someone was looking out for us and there was an express bus to Dublin at 3 - even better than going to Belfast and transferring!) So we hiked the 3 miles up to Dunluce Castle, which was closed but still beautiful. And I stole a rock from one of the walls, so hopefully we don't hear in a couple years that the place fell down. I'm the rightful owner anyway....VERY distantly. Then we got mediocre KFC (very disappointing...we were dreaming about it on the whole hike down) and finally got our asses back to Dublin alive and well though slightly stressed out.
PS...I have decided (based on the events of that weekend and of this morning on my way to classes) that Irish bus drivers are possibly the most bitter and spiteful ppl on the face of the earth. And I'll leave it at that.
