Northern Ireland Confidential

366

I hit these shores one year ago today. Yes, it's been a year -- a leap year in fact!

Here's how I celebrated:

• Had a driving lesson with The Calmest Man in Northern Ireland, my driving instructor.

• Took my "practical driving test" with an absolutely lovely testor.
• Passed said test.
• Sat in a parking lot and texted everybody with the miraculous news.
• Basked in the congratulatory return texts.
• Drove home [using the Westlink, thank you very much] and promptly parked the car.
• Listened to "Have I Told You Lately That I Love You?" as a prayer.
• Took the bus into City Centre.
• Met a friend for a very entertaining play about the infamous Maze prison.
• Went to one of my favorite haunts for a celebratory pint.
• Met 5 interesting and funny good old boys from the Falls. (Are there any boring people here?)
• Picked up takeaway from my favorite Thai restaurant.
• Wrote a list of aspirations for Year Two.
• Got a call from a friend, asking if I want to go out.
• Consulted aspiration list, found "go out more" on it.
• Hoped the second year will be even half as good as this past one has been.

the kettle is always on

Woo-hoo! Belfast is one of Frommer's top destinations for 2009, which means we should see an influx of guidebook-reading tourists! At least I hope so!

Our wee city is listed alongside Istanbul, Cartagena and Berlin as must-visit places. Sure, they're good, maybe even a bit exotic, but do they offer a dizzying variety of potato-based side dishes? Probably not.

Interesting fact: Belfast is twinned with Nashville ... Belfast was once called "The Athens of the North"* and Nashville was known as "The Athens of the South." No word on what Athens was called.

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* Actually, Edinburgh was too.

auld lang whine

Robert Burns**  was born 250 years ago today, and I'm hard pressed to explain why I spent his birthday in Belfast when Scotland is a 45-minute flight away. In Scotland, it's a big, big day, and you've got to love a country that celebrates

(a) a poet
(b) haggis
(c) bagpipes
(d) men in kilts

All these are part of the traditional Burns Night Supper, and I thoroughly enjoy every element.

In lieu of a Burns Night Supper, I read a few of his poems (and listened to some courtesy of my geek-crush Poetry Please) and absorbed all the Burns-related stuff I could on BBC iPlayer.

One of the best radio shows, presented by the very funny Fred McAulay, investigated Burns as a brand and tried to quantify what he has meant to the Scottish economy. Answer: roughly £159 million.

• General tourism  -- £150 million
• General merchandising  -- £3.3 million
• Haggis (and other items consumed at Burns Night suppers) -- £1.32 million
• Whisky -- £300,000
• Odds & Ends (kilt hire, etc.) -- £330,000

I'll do my part for the economy in a couple weekends when I make the long-awaited journey to Glasgow! That will be a Charles Rennie Mackintosh pilgrimage. He's quite a brand in his own right, but I'm sure he can't touch Burns when it comes to ringing the cash register.
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** Scottish pronunciation key:  "Rabbit Buns"
 

nocturnal cross-country driving tour of antrim

To celebrate my completed theory test, and to keep a resolution to go to events when I have purchased tickets* I was looking forward to a concert at the Black Box last night.

I actually got out of work at a fairly decent hour ... but 10 minutes into the commute home, police routed all cars off the main road. All the drivers ahead of me had a wee chat with the officer, and presumably got directions and information, but he was onto more pressing matters when I passed by.

Back into the Antrim countryside I went. I'm sure it's gorgeous during the day, but I was less moved by it in the darkness.

don’t cry for me ballymena

Just as there are stages of grief, there are stages of getting a UK driver's license. These include, but are not limited to:

• Frustration

• Humiliation

• Resignation

• The Theory Test

And for the theory test, what we in the States might call the rules of the road exam, I had to go to Ballymena. Here I must apologise to the residents of Ballymena and confess that I find myself somewhat prejudiced against Ballymena, even though I haven't spent any time there. It's a market town known for shopping, ironic since it's also renown for its penny-pinching citizenry.

I try to focus on the good parts bits, like the fact that Nelly takes her mum to the Tesco there and Liam Neeson is from there. But mostly I associate it with that guy your man Ian Paisley. And my co-workers described it for me in driving terms: a nightmare maze. Leave yourself lots of time to get there, they said.

So I set off from work with about 50 minutes allotted for the drive. Even after nearly a year, I forgot that just a few miles can be a very long, and usually very lovely, journey.

and so the magic begins

I'm not sure if U.S. President Barack Obama* arranged this through his global inspirational powers, but I found out today that Paul Merton is coming to Belfast.

People who talk to me for more than 25 minutes will know that I [heart] Paul Merton. Obviously not for his fashion sense. It's because he is quick-witted and charming and strange.

He's a huge silent film aficionado and he's going to screen some vintage clips at the Belfast Film Festival on 3 April. Can we buy tickets? Yes we can!

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* Oh, it's so grand to type that.

our cousin in toronto

One of the things I learned soon after moving here is that nearly everyone has a relative in Canada -- most usually a cousin in Toronto. I don't have that exact connection, but I do have a frequent Maple Leaf reader who will fill the bill, and he sent a marvelous idea this week:

A suggestion for more Van Morrison moments ... trace out on a map the route described in "Coney Island"** and go for a wee Saturday jaunt along the County Down coast.

Why not live out that fabulous song? Not only does it contribute to my resolution to wring the most out of our wee country, it features three of my favorite things: autumn, Strangford Lough, and herring.

abnormal routine

My Saturday routine is quiet but never boring. I walk into City Centre and visit my two favourite places, Linen Hall Library and St. George's Market, but sometimes I wander around go walkabout. Here are a few items from today:

For some reason I found myself in Cornmarket. Although I've passed by this building scores of times, I have never really looked at until today. Does anybody know the name or history of it? Was this the Cornmarket itself? 

     

Inexplicably, after this, I found myself headed to Tesco. I figured since I was so close, I might as well get two things I most needed that are portable: lunchmeat and flowers. The building is almost as beautiful as the mystery building above. I was standing inside Tesco, admiring it (!), when staff rushed past me.

I figured their New Year's resolution might be to deliver American-style service. But the expressions on their faces told a more serious story. Sad to say, an elderly woman had collapsed in the lunchmeat aisle. I would say the team did a good job of responding and blocking access to the area where she was. But word spread quickly. One checker came over to tell mine, "Poor dear, she doesn't know where she is and she doesn't have any ID on her."

A chill went up my spine. This is among my worst fears. I made a mental note to update my emergency contacts and put them on my person. I've learned never to leave the house without a camera or an umbrella, but if I passed out in the lunchmeat aisle at Tesco, that wouldn't give people much to go on.

I went onto Royal Avenue just as an ambulance sped toward the store. Everyone on the street seemed to crane their necks and look at each other with questioning expressions, especially since there were numerous police vehicles about. For a minute I wondered if I'd stepped into Belfast circa 1974. What was going on here? 

I saw a small group gathered near the City Hall and heard someone talking on a public address system. There was a demonstration about the Gaza/Israel situation. I thought it would be interesting to hear what the speakers were saying, especially about a conflict in which one side is using weapons to resist what it feels is occupation by the other side.

 

I felt a bit guilty that I didn't stick around longer, but I had all my perishables from the market, my books from the library, and a sudden realisation that with traffic re-routed by this demonstration, I had no idea where to catch the bus home.

Never a dull moment.  

why van morrison is metaphysical

Every day, at least one time, I experience a moment where I think, "This place is so beautiful." Sometimes it happens on the long drive to work, or if I'm walking somewhere in the city, or when I venture out to another part of the country.

Usually the moment happens in the parking lot car park at work.

Yes. This is even more astounding when you realize realise I work in an industrial town once described in a guidebook as "marvellously grim." It is, but each day I stand on a seaside cliff edge and breathe in the air. On a clear day, I can see Scotland. I leave my car in the most gorgeous car park in the world.

Today I failed to keep my New Year's resolution to leave work at 3:30 p.m. every Friday; missed it by two hours. So it was black, black, black as I trudged out to the car park. But that's when I had my moment. A brilliant full moon shone onto the sea. Far better writers have described this phenomenon and I cannot do it justice. I stood for a very long time, absorbing everything that was silver and silent. This place is so beautiful.

negative temperatures

One of the few nice things about being a big girl, as they say here (God bless the euphemism), is that I am rarely cold. Carrying a few additional stone around is a way to stay warm, and the temps here are usually moderate.

Please note use of the word "usually."

Flip, it's cold. It's below zero.

OK, that's below zero, Celsius, which is practically balmy in Chicago. Have I become a wimp?

All I know is that yesterday at the icebox office, which hadn't been heated for two weeks, I removed my shoes and put my feet directly on the radiator.