Belfast, N. Ireland

Paddy &  Black Cab

Standing by murals

Backyard Cage

Sept. 6, 2007-Our Troubles

There are The Troubles and there are our troubles. David could not find his VISA card this morning. He remembered using it in Derry but not afterwards. We called VISA to cancel it and they told us we’d used it at a gas station near our hotel last night. But as soon as we called VISA it was cancelled. The hotel called the station for us and they did have it. They were going to call VISA and send it to our address in the U.S. Very thoughtful. We picked the now defunct card up on our way out of town and will use our American Express card and bank debit card. There can always use cash and we need to dump some. The confusing thing is that we’re using pounds here, will need euros in Dublin at the airport, then pounds again in Manchester. Our itinerary is this: tomorrow we drive to Dublin, fly to Manchester, spend the night there, and fly home on Sat. from Manchester. It sounds complicated but we’re on free tickets.

 In approaching Belfast from the northwest we could see it’s glorious position. It is wedged between Lough Neagh and the North Irish Sea. We took our usual time in finding the Jury’s Inn Hotel smack in the middle of the Golden Mile, a historic sector, and proceeded to check in. I took care of storing the bags since our room wasn’t ready while David followed directions to the car park the desk clerk suggested. I told her he’d be back in 20 minutes. She said it was only a few minutes away. I assured her he’d get lost. Twenty-five minutes later she went to look for him. She found him crossing the street to the hotel and right on course. It was the finding of the garage and the one-way streets that had delayed him.

Black Cab

She then helped call a taxi for a political tour of the city. The Black Cab Tours use huge original British taxis and are well known. It’s not recommended that tourists wander those areas unescorted. As Paddy Campbell, our guide and driver, explained. The Troubles lurk just under the surface. He gave us a picture of both sides of the dilemma and although he’s half Scots we couldn’t tell which side his Irish half was. He was fair in representing both points of view.

We didn’t realize that the animosity is alive here. In the northwest Shankhill and Newtownards areas they have Protestant and Catholic walled ghettos where gates are closed each night and on weekends. They’re prisoners of their own hatred. Some Catholics would just as soon have some of the gates locked all the time. The walls aren’t just symbolic. They keep growing in height. The first phase was concrete like sound barriers on our highways. To the tops of those was added corrugated metal. That was topped with chain link fencing. As high as they build them someone manages to throw something incendiary over. I’d guess the present walls are well over twenty-feet high. It’s the Berlin Wall in reverse. In Berlin the wall kept people in. Here it keeps people out.

But that’s not enough for people living on the perimeter of the walls. Backyards are literally encased in protective chain link fencing from roof to ground creating a cage around the rear yards. Prejudice lives on even in death. There are walls in the cemeteries separating Protestant and Catholic. The walls only run underground and go to a depth of twelve feet. It’s bizarre!

It was Oliver Cromwell who started what they call the Plantation years. It’s not about trees. He imported and “implanted” Brits and Scots and implemented anti-Irish (read Catholic) laws. It mushroomed from there. During the modern day Troubles Paddy said that the IRA (Catholics) killed for political reasons and the Unionists (Protestants) killed because of religion. If that person was also a Republican (someone wanting a united Ireland) it was a bonus. He sees a united Ireland some day because of demographics. There are now 35, 000 foreigners in Northern Ireland and their voting block is growing. They aren’t tied to the old political divisions and will likely choose the economic advantage of a united republic. Protestants worry that a Catholic Ireland will give too much power to the papacy on issues of contraception not so much on abortion rights.

There are murals and memorials all over the area and even pubs are segregated. The flag of the Republic of Ireland is green for Catholics, orange for Protestants, and white for peace. Northern Ireland flies the Union Jack of Great Britain. But here’s a twist. The Loyalists (Protestants) are now killing each other. A drug war is being waged. One of the major heroes of The Troubles died of an overdose and is memorialized and extolled on one of the murals.

Patrons have to be recognized to gain entry into pubs in those neighborhoods we toured. Here there’s no way to tell “friend from foe.” Segregation in the U.S. was easier using skin color as an identifier. But there is hope. There are some areas that have mixed housing. It is in the middle and upper class not working class neighborhoods where this is taking place.

So where do Jews live? Anywhere they want. It’s an oddity of history that no one much cares about Jews here. They’re too busy hating each other.

On Our Own

Paddy dropped us off for lunch where we tried to spend most of our Ulster Bank notes. They’re only good in N. Ireland. David really felt as if he was in England. He had a hot roast beef sandwich on buttered white bread.

We took a peek at City Hall and the Europa Hotel. The hotel’s claim to fame is that it is the most bombed hotel in Europe. It was bombed eleven times during The Troubles and re-built every time. When the Clintons stayed there on a visit the phones were answered, “ The White House, Belfast can I help you?” Across from the hotel is the Crown Bar built in 1894. It’s under restoration by the National Trust but the interior still features cozy stalls called snugs, walled cubicles where patrons can find privacy. They do indeed look like horse stalls with doors.

The Grand Opera House is across the street from our hotel. We saw that a play was on tonight, “There’s No Place Like A Home.” We asked if we’d understand the humor since it’s a British farce. They told us it was in English. That didn’t answer our question, but they assured us we’d like it. Besides, we were told, the cast was stellar and extremely well known in England. We hadn’t heard of a one but decided to go.

We had time for dinner and decided on Robinson’s, a bistro across the street. A young man was sitting at the next table talking on his cell about going to Chicago & Minneapolis. We didn’t comment on the Mnneapolis part thinking it would be rude to let him know we listened in. When he was finished with his call he leaned towards our table and excused himself for being impolite but enquired as to whether my meal was good. I had lamb stew. Our conversation started there and went for an hour. He offered to buy us drinks but we had to make the show. He works for a company that supplies retailers like Target, etc. He travels Europe and the U.S. and is rarely back home in England. He said he doesn’t even have time for a girlfriend.

The show was actually funny. We understood most of it but sometimes the accents and political and popular references escaped us. It took place in a senior home that was being foreclosed. The residents were all eccentric retired entertainers who came up with a fund-raising scheme to kidnap Jeffrey Lord Archer. It went from there.

The theater dates from 1895 and has Victorian touches throughout. The red velvet curtain and gilt balconies were lovingly restored, as were the murals. We sat in the stalls (orchestra) rather than with the “gods” as itemized on the price list. Sitting with the “gods” referred to the third balcony near the ceiling mural of gods and goddesses. An interpreter for hearing impaired was present throughout the performance and David said it would have been handy if we knew sign language.

It’s going to be a long night. There are sirens going by frequently. I see earplugs in my future.

I just permitted myself a look at the photos of our family. I was right to wait until now. They’re gorgeous and I can’t wait to see them.

Toby