Adventures with Dana (Ireland)

On the Sunday I left my family over break, I headed back towards Paris to meet Dana at CDG airport. I arrived earlier than I expected, and eagerly checked the arrivals board. I wasn't sure what flight Dana came in on, but I figured it was from Chicago. There was only one flight from Chicago on the board and it was in terminal 1, so I headed that way. I fought for a central spot in the arrivals gate where friends and family wait for their loved ones to exit customs. I waited... and I waited. An hour pasted and I started to worry. I didn't see any more token Americans pass through the gate, and the clock was ticking by. So I found the nearest information desk and asked if there were any other flights arriving from Chi-town that day. Yes, one had landed around 9am (it was already 12), and it was somewhere in terminal 2. Ohhh... so when I checked the board it was so late that her particular flight was no longer on the board. Whoops. Back to the other terminal. When I arrived at the gate I thought the lady had told me to go to, Dana was nowhere to be found. Uh oh. I have a cell phone, but Dana doesn't, and terminal 2, if you've ever been, is rather large. And around Christmas time, there are a lot of people there. So I walked. And I walked. I had everything for the 2 week vacation in a cheap backpack from some dinky souvenir shop in London (my little red suitcase was still broken from the Paris metro, and I thought I'd get a new one), and my back was about to give in. Just when I despaired of ever finding my friend, my phone started to ring, "That's me in the corner, that's me in the spotlight, losing my religion...!" (about the ringtone: it is the only non-dog whistle pitch option on this old clunker, and is in no way a statement about anything in particular...) Dana!! Where are you??? Not sure, sitting by some moving sidewalks. Oh, okay. Well there are a ton of possible places you could be, so just hang tight and I'll keep walking, but if I'm not there in 30 min call again from the payphone. About 30 minutes later and I'm thinking, "Please call..." And thankfully my phone rings again. Hey, that didn't work, I can't find you, do you know where the platform is by the train depot with all the screens?? No? Well follow signs for the trains and you'll see it, I'll meet you there.

Over 2 hours after my arrival at CDG, we were together. It was wonderful, though the poor girl was exhausted. Unfortunately I had bad news for her. It may have been 1pm already, but our flight to Belfast wasn't until close to 9pm. So we chatted, and waited, and found terminal 3 (harder than you'd think), and chatted some more, and sat in a restaurant until they kicked us out, and dosed off, and read, and chatted again. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, we left CDG and flew to Ireland. Excitement all around. Oh and right before boarding the plane, my backpack strap broke. My million ton bag was now to be carried with one strap, and that strap was looking strained. Luggage and I don't get along (that's 2 broken bags already). So for the next few days I had to carry it like a baby in front of me with the strap over one shoulder. It was funny, for Dana, but rather awkward for me to lug. Anyway, when we arrived we were interrogated quite thoroughly by the customs department. The lady just kept asking tons and tons of questions, and we started getting flustered. I'm living in France, and no, she lives in the US. We leave in a few days, no not back to France, to Scotland. When are we going back to France (anxious to get rid of us?)? Um I don't know let me check. Okay on this day. You want to see our tickets?? Fine (dig through luggage). Here, are you happy? Ugh. Simmer down lady.

One night of heavy sleep later, and we were ready to see the city! We left our hostel and picked a direction and walked. Fifteen mins later and we were in front of Queen's University, which was rather nice looking, I'll admit. We poked around there and found this lovely little cafe that had the best paninis I have ever had in my life. I'm not exaggerating. Then we tried to visit the Ulster museum, but it was closed for renovation or something. Oh well. I texted Rachel (the one from Ireland) so she could come hang out with us. Despite the rain (lots of rain), we had a blast. Belfast is a lovely city (they have their own "Belfast Eye" now). We stopped in at a pub to get out of the rain and I tried some Magner's cider (not bad), and Ireland's own Harp beer. Again, not bad. It's no Guinness, I realize, but Guinness is an acquired taste that I am not ready for yet. Afterwards we went to her friend Claire's house and met some more Irish people (let me just say that it's so much more fun to travel and know someone in the city, and I love listening to their funny Irish accents). We went out with her and her friends to the club (a bit dodgy, not gonna lie) for New Year's, which was fun but a bit strange. Dana and I headed home before the group (mainly because I'm just not a club person, never have been, and we didn't want to spoil the fun for the group, so we said a quick goodbye and snuck out). Unfortunately we had taken a cab to get to the club, and Dana and I weren't entirely sure how to get back. So we asked everyone we saw how to get back to City Hall (and eventually, KFC which is the best way to get directions back to our hostel, apparently everyone knows where KFC is). It was a long trek, about 40 min or more, but we made, largely thanks to this sweet Irish couple who walked a good part of the way with us and asked us questions about the US and our travels and such. I will say this about Ireland, everyone we met was extremely friendly and welcoming. Perfect strangers were totally willing to help us out whenever needed. It was wonderful. So New Year's was a success, dodgy club and all.

The next day we picked up a sandwich at Tesco's and parked in front of City Hall just to soak it in. It's rather pretty, despite the gloom. It was finally not raining so we decided to head to West Belfast to see the peace wall. Let me begin by saying that although we had heard of the "troubles" in Ireland, we had no idea the role that Belfast had, or what a peace wall was, or anything. We saw in a guidebook that West Belfast had a peace wall and murals and we thought we could check it out. Well an hour later our walk brought us to the shady Shankill road area. It was definitely sketchy, and the murals were kind of disturbing. Lots of guns and soldiers and painted graves and memorials. At the bottom of the post I'll attach all of my mural pictures, they're worth a look. We discovered that Shankill Rd is home to the loyalist crowd, as is evidenced by this lovely picture of the Queen mum (which is now a rather popular joke in Belfast: was the painter drinking too much whiskey or the Queen mum?). Anyway, we turned south in search of this so-called peace wall (not entirely sure what to expect). We headed down a road mentioned in the guide book and ran into a gate. What the heck? How do you get to the other side? Hmm, there's no way around. That's strange, this is a major road. What does the guidebook say? The gate on the road is closed during times of trouble and tension...ohhh. Maybe we shouldn't be here. Well let's walk this way a bit, oh there's a wall. Maybe that's the...

Cue creepy local. This old man (in shorts) comes up to us and asks what we're doing in the neighborhood. Looking for trouble, obviously. Well, if we know what's good for us we won't go on the other side of that wall. Why? Well he informed us, in his almost incomprehensible accent, the other side was fully of dirty Catholics and Muslims and Jews. Not a place for nice young girls like us... Canadians, right? No, American. Look of disappointment (no commonwealth for us, our forefathers weren't thrilled with the monarchy, a bit like southern Ireland actually). Well, the US isn't so bad. After all, we have the KKK (yes he said that, it was a good thing to have them). Great. Well we should be going now. Oh, yes, that's a lovely tattoo on your calf of some coat of arms, I love it I really do, but we really must be on our way. As we walked away he shouted something at us and we turned to see him giving us a hail Hitler. Ahhh, creep-tastic. Run, run away.

Later that day we hung out with Rach and Claire some more. We went into this American themed restaurant (not sure why), and guess what we saw on the wall. We saw a painting of the Confederate flag with lights around it. Well that's just great. What is happening in this city? I asked the barmaid if she knew what it was, and she didn't. Ignorance is no excuse. Oh well.

The next day we went back to the lovely cafe with the paninis. The guy there was quite friendly. When we left Dana said, "Have a nice day" and he responded with a, "I'll try me hardest." Those Irish. We met up again with the girls and this time we decided to take a proper tour. Rach flirted with the driver and got us tickets at the kids price. The tour took us again through West Belfast, but this time we got to see the Falls (the Catholic/republic side). The murals over there were less about Ireland and more about Bush/Iraq, etc. Kind of strange. On the courthouse someone stole Lady Liberty's scales of justice. Oh and every 5 minutes the bus driver told us that here so and so was "shot dead." Lots of shooting going on. It was quite morbid. And actually, the whole situation was very depressing. The British troops didn't leave N'Ireland until last summer! Can you believe that? They've been at each other's throats for so long. Oh and we crossed the only peaceline in the world that you can cross and not get shot (right away, anyway). The wall was not a lovely thing with murals of rainbows and flowers. It was like a prison wall with barbed wire and gloom. The guy who built it said that perhaps if the republicans and loyalists couldn't see each other than couldn't very well shoot each other. Wow. I realize they disagree, but how do you reach that point? How do you go from ideological differences to utter insanity? A cause is one thing, hatred is another. For what it's worth, the Irish people that we actually hung out with (Rach and gang) were lovely and they wish their city had never been so insane. It's really just a few clusters of crazies who ruin it for everyone. And for the most part, the city is safe, it really is. I just wouldn't move to Shankill or the Falls...

Well, that's about it for Ireland. Dana and I loved it. We got to spend some much needed quality time together (it's been so long!), and do what we do best: travel. Even better, we got to hang out with Rach and her friends. It was great. Next up: Edinburgh.

(To the right is the MP who died on a hunger strike)