Belfast

Despite the fact that the “always-reliable travel guides” described Belfast as a charming city, I predicted that I would see a worn down city clouded with the weight of heaviness in the air. I was proven wrong. Instead I've found a city that is welcoming and bustling… with just a faint taste of subterranean political unrest.

I spent my first full day in Belfast wandering the streets without any particular destination in mind. My hotel is very close to the beautiful Queen’s University, and I’m actually a block away from the Department of Education. This part of the city seems to be a college town bursting at the seams. There are at least three coffee shops on every block (great café au lait!), thrift stores, restaurants, and pubs. I love the colors. Buildings tend to be shaded a drastically different pastel from the one next to it.

On my way to the City Hall, I passed an old, rectangular fountain. I found an inscription for the visitor to read as while walking around the structure. It states: WHOSEVER DRINKETH OF THIS WATER SHALL NEVER THIRST. WHOSEVER DRINKETH OF THIS WATER SHALL THIRST AGAIN. Interesting. When I had a look inside the pools where one might have cupped their hands to drink some water, I found discarded plastic bottles and other garbage.

Across the street from the prophetic fountain are the North Ireland offices of the BBC. There was a group of people on strike. I asked one of the strikers what they were boycotting. She kindly explained that a number of people on staff had been let go and directed outdoors by security without warning.

I asked if I could take a picture. She said I was more than welcomed to, and the entire group of strikers posed for the camera and smiled. Interesting, again.

The Belfast City Hall is an impressive building with a great green lawn and beautiful fountain. Inside are many artifacts and statues that, along with label copy, tell the story of the British foundation of this city. Most fascinating to me was a golden trowel used to lay a foundation in 1898. (I found no mention of political strife in the exhibitry.)

There is a particularly striking statue of Queen Victoria outside of the front gates. Tall and imposing, she stares down at passer-byes with an imperious gaze. I wondered what she would say if she could speak.

After visiting the City Hall, I found myself in a bustling portion of the City Centre. Stores, stores, stores, coffee shops, coffee shops, coffee shops. The Disney Store. Starbucks. HMV.

Intermingling with the consumerism were older churches. My favorite was St. Malachy’s, a Catholic church founded in 1840s. As I made my way through the church taking in different images from the New Testament and votives, an elderly woman with brightly dyed red hair and caked on makeup approached me and asked where I was from. (Was it that obvious that I was a tourist? Apparently so.) I told her I was. She was excited as, she told me, she was too!

“I’m from Dublin,” she told me. “I’ve come all this way to find an adoration.”

I asked her what that was.

“You don’t know what an adoration is? Are you Catholic?” she gasped.

“No,” I replied. “I’m Jewish.”

“You’re Jewish, and you’re visiting a church?” she asked with surprise.

“Yes, I love learning about different religions.”

She blessed me and then explained what an adoration was.

* * * * *

I’ve been in Belfast for several days now. And the more time I observe and read, the more hushed whispers of the Troubles I hear. It seems that the city is making an effort to move on, to mention the conflicts between the Protestant and Catholic, North and South, British and native Irish under its breath.

In my opinion, The Troubles are not evident on the surface. But it doesn’t take much scratching to find their evidence underneath that surface.