Belfast Part 2

Last summer when I was in Ireland I climbed Croagh Patrick. It was one of the most gruelling things I ever did in my live. ‘Cause I wasn’t prepared for it at all. I left the youth hostel in Westport thinking ‘let’s just climb that bloody mountain and take some pictures of the place where Saint Patrick chased the snakes from Ireland’. It took me actually more than two hours to get to the top and getting down was even harder. But it was indeed worth being on that particular place where Ireland’s patron saint had been hundreds and hundreds of years before to free Ireland from the snakes.

So, great was my consternation when Jonny announced Sunday morning that we were going to go the place where…..Saint Patrick chased away…..the snakes. We were miles and miles away from Westport, so it was quite clear to me that he was talking about another mountain than the one I climbed. And indeed, rumours go round that it wasn’t Croagh Patrick, but a place called Slemish where Saint Patrick performed the miracle. Rumours indeed, ‘cause Jonny, I’m still not convinced. But I’m indeed grateful that you drove us there, as there is now not the slightest doubt anymore about me being to the place where Saint Patrick. Feels great anyway.

After the obliged picture in Slemish we drove back to Jonny’s place. Taking a shower, drinking a nice cup of tea and getting ready for a very exciting sport afternoon. Well, for the boys anyway. Katie and I weren’t too keen on spending the whole afternoon in a crowded pub to watch rugby and the Liverpool soccer match afterwards. So the boys dropped us of at the Ulster Museum. We spend a good bit of the afternoon there. ‘t Was nice. They have a varied collection, from paintings from the old Flemish and Dutch masters, till the first Egyptian mummy outside Egypt and a good bit on Irish history as well. Meanwhile Ireland beat England in the Six Nations Cup, which was great indeed. We arrived in the Globe when Liverpool started the overtime against Chelsea (although I’m not for one hundred per cent sure if it was Chelsea. Was it?). Till about ten minutes before the end of the match it looked like Liverpool was going to win and that we were going to get some very happy guys back home, but then there was the own goal. A shame indeed, and it got even worse as Liverpool eventually lost the match with 2-3 (or 3-2, don’t even know which team was visiting. Shame on me again). Jonny was disappointed. Think they deserved to win the game.

Anyway, there wasn’t too much time for grieving as there was still another big thing on the program. Luka Bloom indeed. Again indeed. So we went back home, where Jonny’s mum served us a delicious spaghetti and than back into the car, towards the Waterfront Hall. The concert hall looked very modern, very spacious, impressive. Luka was playing in the Studios. I found us a nice seat on the fourth row. The show was good. Although he played nearly exact the same set list as in Dublin, the atmosphere was completely different. No drinking here. Full attention. A very modest audience. Which made it very intimate. No standing ovation (there was one in Dublin), only one encore (there were two in Dublin), but nevertheless a great show. And he did play ‘I’m a bogman’. The song the three of us were waiting for, especially after the macabre experience we had there the day before.

I was kind of expecting the weekend to be over after the concert, but I was definitely wrong there. So after the gig back in the cab, towards Jonny’s local pub again. When we arrived there, the door was already closed. But people were still in, so after a short chat with the ‘very dangerous looking bouncer with the earphones’ Jonny managed to get us in. We were just in time for ‘last orders’ (a very peculiar Irish (and English) phenomenon: just order as much as you can, ‘cause there is no chance to get another drink after that call). And still the party wasn’t over. Back to Jonny’s kitchen. Where I had…..my…..first…..dancing lesson. Yes mum and dad, me dancing in a ‘stranger’s’ kitchen. After Darren and his fiancée left, Jonny’s mum and Pat just started to dance. I initially opted for the safe way: sitting in the corner of the kitchen, sipping my white wine, taking a picture from time to time. But the more drink there was served, the more obvious it became there was no way for me to escape the ‘dance floor’. And I did enjoy it. And indeed I was a bit clumsy at the start. But who cared? The five of us were kind of drunk, so it was just a matter of having a good time. And I definitely had. The hours flew by and before we knew it was half past five. I had to catch my bus at eight. As there was no time left to enjoy a good night’s rest, we just took a one-hours’ nap and get up again at a quarter to seven. Jonny’s mum had breakfast ready for us (she didn’t went to bed yet). Isn’t she great?

I nearly missed my bus back to Dublin ( the driver wasn’t very happy about waiting for me running to the ticket office to buy a ticket). The way back was hell. I hoped to sleep, but just couldn’t. Suffered a small hangover. Had to change bus two times and was afraid to miss my stop by falling asleep. Anyway, I arrived in Mallow around five, which wasn’t too bad. I had kind of planned to have a quick sandwich and get into my bed. Suffering from a headache, I wasn’t in the mood for chatting at all. But I forgot about Julia of course. So the minute I entered the house she started firing questions on me about the weekend. “How was it? Did you spend a lot of money? Isn’t amazing how quick time goes? How was the concert? Did you find a place to stay in Dublin”. I know she was just interested but it just wasn’t really what I needed at that time of the day. So I politely answered some of her questions and sneaked upstairs after about an hour. Fell asleep at six ‘o clock and slept till my alarm woke me up the next morning for another day at work.
A great weekend it was indeed. Although we didn’t see too much of Belfast itself, I definitely had a great Northern Irish experience up there. It was more than a hospitable welcome. The Antrim Coast was just amazing. Was overwhelmed by the weather. I know people in Belgium are suffering a very severe winter at the moment, but weather last weekend was just amazing. Blue sky, no wind, the sun shining. Think “the bad weather myth” is just a story the Irish made up to keep those bloody tourists out. And right they are.

Saskia

Belfast part 1

Thursday, June Tabor on now. Went to the Social Welfare Office in Mallow today. And guess what? After about two minutes everything was sorted out. Amazing, isn’t it? Tried to open a bank account as well, but that was expecting too much at the same time. As long as I don’t have an permanent residence, they won’t open an account for me. Well….guess I’m getting used to it.

As most of you know, I’ve spend my weekend in Belfast. So I guess you’re all waiting for a report. To be honest, it feels a bit awkward. Cause for the first time in the short existence of my little website, I have to write a report about time I’ve spend with people who are going to read about it here themselves. Feels a bit strange. But I’ll try to be honest and sincere anyway.

Belfast-report: part 1
Starts in Dublin. Cause I already booked a seat in Vicar Street for Luka’s show a couple of weeks before I arrived in Ireland. It was only at the last minute that I decided to go to the show in Belfast as well. Two shows in four days it was indeed.
I arrived in Dublin after a bus trip from almost five hours. Weather wasn’t very nice that day, so I spend most of the time exploring the different shopping centres of Dublin. Went back to the hostel around six to have a quick meal, meet some people there and get dressed for the concert. Had a bed in an eight-bed-dorm. But were only two of us there that night. Me and……a middle aged….man…..from…..Cork. He was really in the organic food stuff, so we had a topic of conversation as I worked in an organic food shop for a short time myself. I even didn’t had too many problems understanding him. ‘t Was only at night when I tried to fell asleep that I realised that it is indeed a bit of a strange idea to share the room with a completely unknown older guy. Guess I was lucky, as he even didn’t snore. The only strange thing he did was taking all kind of organic pills and medicines when he woke up.
The show in Vicar Street was great. People were allowed to drink during the concert (we were sitting at small round tables). And when Irish people are not thirsty, they are always in the mood for some real craic. So they start singing along with guest appearance Alyanya and they continued doing that when Luka performed Sunny Sailor Boy and other great songs. Really enjoyed the show. Met Niall and one of Luka’s sisters after the show. And had a quick visit to the VIP room, where I saw Christy Moore in the corner of the bar (think Jonny still is a bit envious of that).

Next day I got up quite early, took a shower and…..discovered four text messages on my mobile phone from the same sender. Dirk….that he cancelled his flight last minute. A shock it was indeed, as we had planned to meet each other a couple of hours later in Belfast, together with Jonny and Katie. But he had a good reason for not coming and I took the bus to Belfast anyway. A bit anxious, ‘cause I only met Jonny a couple of weeks before I left Belgium as he is a friend of Dirk. And it were actually only those particular occasions where there was a lot of drinking involved that I really spoke to him.

I met Katie and Jonny in the most bombed hotel of Europe (there was indeed no need to tell you guys this before). The plan was to have a quick drink there and go for a car drive through Belfast city. Instead we went for a nice lunch in a very modern launch bar and for another drink in one of the other ‘you’ve must seen’ bars in Belfast. Afterwards we just drove to Jonny’s place, as we were all a bit (or very) tired. Jonny’s mum received us with open arms. I got my own single bedroom downstairs. It was Jonny’s youngest brother’s birthday, so I soon was going to find out how they celebrate someone’s birthday in Northern Ireland. First of all, there was loads of food. There were some nice people as well (including some work colleagues of Jonny’s mum, Darren’s fiancée and her Scottish father). There was music. And there was drink of course. Around half ten they called a cab to continue the party in Jonny’s local pub. To his own big disappointment it was relatively calm there, but there was a nice atmosphere anyway. Around one ‘o clock some heavy looking bouncers with earphones kicked us all out, which obliged us to get back in the cab and continue the party at home again. Don’t remember what time I went to bed, wasn’t too bad. Katie went to bed as well. Jonny tried to do the same, but instead…his mum found him a couple of hours later in…..the…..bath. Sleeping peacefully and completely dressed.

Next morning we managed to get in the car around eleven to go for a trip to the Antrim Coast. Passed through Carrickfergus (Van Morrison is singing about it) first. Jonny had some problems to find the Coastal Route, but after a quick stop at his favourite toyshop for an ice cream (sorry Jonny, don’t remember the name of the shop. Rivka or something it was) we finally get there. High light of the day was of course The Giant’s Causeway. It’s one of the Unesco World Heritage sites. And also one of the thousand places everyone should visit before he dies. But that was only in the afternoon. The first big stop was at the Carrick-a-Rede Rode Bridge. In spite of several signs on the road telling us that the bridge was closed, we only believed it when we actually stood in front of the closed gate. A bit of a disappointment maybe, but on the other side also a relief as I’m not a real hero on heights. And we enjoyed the view anyway. Driving on we passed several small coastal towns. When we passed the bog we got out the car again. ‘Cause Katie wanted us to experience the elasticity of the peat ourselves. It didn’t work out very well. And instead we did a quite macabre discovery. Just a couple of metres from the road we found several skulls of sheep or goats, and bones and pieces of fleece as well. Like there had took place a ritual slaughtering. Very creepy. Back to the car. There were still two main things on our to do list: the Giants Causeway and the Bushmills Distillery (thé oldest legal whiskey distillery of the world). As we were a bit short of time we could only do one of them and so……we went to the Giants Causeway (what else did you expected?). I was really impressed. Think we ‘couldn’t come at a better time’. The sun was shining, it was not too cold, no wind and there were not too many tourists either. I’m not going to dwell on the geological explanation of how the Giant’s Causeway was created. ‘Cause that’s all twaddle for people who won’t believe that the Irish giant Finn MacCool build this way to get to Scotland to fight his rival Benandonner.

After the Giant’s Causeway we started to feel hungry and as Katie had an appetite for seafood Jonny decided to take us to a restaurant called The Salmon Leap. Before we just dropped our stuff in Jonny’s mum’s caravan (yes indeed Belgian shivery people, we stayed at the end of February in Northern-Ireland in a CARAVAN! Isn’t life and Irish weather just beautiful?). As we didn’t make a reservation we went for a pint in expectation of a free table. Reading the menu it seemed they didn’t had that many seafood at all, so I ordered lamb (I’m getting used to the meat now) with vegetables and one big backed potato. The salmon was prepared in a Chinese way, which didn’t appeal to me at all. After dinner back to the caravan. There was plenty of wine there (although I couldn’t even finish half a bottle of it). Played cards. Was quite fun. I went to bed early. Tired.
As I’m now too, so I’m afraid Belfast Part 2 is for after the weekend. Hear you all soon.

Saskia

Irish bureaucratie

Wednesday evening, Linda Thompson singing away in my discman. Had another typical Irish experience today. Before I can look for a job in Ireland I need a Personal Public Service number (the famous PPS as they call it here). Made several phone calls last week, to find out where I had to go to get it. And what kind of documents I needed to bring. Today with Bill towards Cork City. Queued more than an hour at the Social Welfare Office. Felt strange, me sitting between all those East-European immigrants. Realized what it really means to be a stranger in a foreign country. It turned out that I was at the wrong office anyway (or what did you expected?). Needed to go to the local office in….Mallow indeed. Spend the whole afternoon queuing for nothing. Second attempt to get my number tomorrow. Irish efficiency they call it.