Belfast

It's been a week since I've updated. Basically I've filled my time with recovering from being super sick all weekend and working on a big history paper that was due today.

The most exciting stories I have to share come from this past weekend, when our entire group (46 people) boarded a bus and went to Northern Ireland, specifically Belfast and then Derry. Just in case you were wondering what kind of bus we got on, here's a picture:


That's right, they told us not to wear any provocative colors like green or orange, but then they rented a giant kelly green bus with every symbol of Nationalism you could possibly imagine splashed across its side. There are even a few sheep on it for good measure.

That was a strange start to the weekend to say the least. We then went to Belfast, where we got off the Paddywagon because it was too dangerous to drive around the city in it (they've had several of these things blown up before, I wonder why???) and we hopped onto a white, slightly less conspicuous bus to do the mural tour. Here are some of the murals:

When I was taking a picture of the mural to the right, a woman and a man walked out of one of the houses and looked at me with what I can only guess was disdain and annoyance. I felt extremely uncomfortable acting like a tourist in a place like this, especially coming off a bus with 46 gawking, loud students. As simplistic as this sounds, it's shocking to remember that people live here on a permanent basis. They live with these murals, some of the violent ones next to schools and playgrounds, and some people are quite proud to have them displayed on their houses. The anti-American sentiment in this area and the self-alignment of their causes with conflicts in the Middle East, expressed in the murals, graffiti, and swastikas that litter the "peace" walls, would make anyone half-aware of the polical climate extremely uneasy.

Belfast is the strangest, and hands-down most depressing, city to which I've ever been. Even a lot of the "nice" areas look like slums. The entire thing is a maze of these "peace" walls, which at times reach 40 feet high and have barbed wire along the top edges. The gates are locked each night to keep the two communities (think Catholic and supporters of nationalism vs. Protestants and supporters of unionism to keep things simple) from essentially attacking one another. Sure, the fighting hasn't continued via the major organized groups for over ten years now, but there are still plenty of dissenting groups acting out in violence, one of the main one's being the "Real IRA." And why do the walls have to be 40 feet high? To keep the other side from throwing rocks or grenades over the top. The streets are marked as Catholic or Protestant territory by "curbing," a process of painting the curbs in the Tricolor or colors of the Union Jack. The two groups live out their lives separate from each other, almost never using the same facilities - schools, hospitals, community centers, and of course churches. The city literally spends billions a year to maintain double of everything.

The British government, currently facing its own issues, has essentially abandoned this territory, not that they've ever pumped many resources in to it (that I'm aware of, I'm sure I could be enlightened a bit on this area by someone more knowledgeable on British politics). There isn't even a border guard when you cross from the Republic of Ireland into the North. It's been an economically deprived area for a long time. It's incredibly depressing; you can feel the tension in the air. They've tried to create a mini-London with a "Belfast Eye" and everything. No one rides it. The place isn't ready to support tourism, although that's what it's pushing. From what we've learned in Irish history (which may be heavily biased), Britain has largely turned a blind eye to the area, and still unionists continue to fight politically and sometimes physically to stay a part of the UK. But how could people whose relatives and friends have shed so much blood for the cause ever think of being disloyal to Britain, even if she's turned her back on their plight?

Still, at this point in time it is probably unrealistic to think that the Republic of Ireland would be able to acquire the six Northern Ireland counties. Putting aside the major political and religious issues, while the Republic would be glad to see her territories return, it would not be able to support them economically, particularly given the current recession, which has essentially brought the Celtic Tiger to a screeching halt. The North needs quite a bit of money pumped into it, allocated into job creation and the educational system. But I won't pretend I have the solution. Only one thing's for sure - there will be no easy answers for Northern Ireland.

That evening we went to Stormont, the Parliament in Northern Ireland. It looks like a beautiful old British estate, as if Mr. Darcy is going to pop out from around the corner. If I hadn't been so sick this part would have been the highlight of the trip. Still, it was very educational. Members of every political party in the Parliament came to talk to us and answer questions we had about Northern Ireland's political situation. Interestingly enough, they all mentioned how there are now more peace walls in the city than at any other time. For those who think that Belfast is now stable, think again. A few hours in Stormont and it's clear that Parliament is by no means working together for progress. There are no plans in the works for integration, and they clearly have difficulty focusing on any issues outside of unionism vs. nationalism. It is not yet a functioning state.

WARNING: MORE POLITICAL SCIENCE TIRADES TO FOLLOW: Now there is a generation of young teens who have grown up just as politically radicalized, just as angry, just as impoverished, and just as poorly educated as their parents. A big reason for the peace agreements was weariness from violence. All sides had suffered such great loss and were tired of fighting. This generation, while they may still be feeling the effects, does not remember living in that state of constant battle. This is an uneasy peace. In five or ten years time, when these children are in their 20s, I am predicting that the place will erupt in violence once more unless something drastic changes in the direction of public policy. As it is now, the place is essentially a time bomb.

Enough of my political rants for now. I'm thinking I might study Northern Ireland for my work for distinction thesis. The only thing I would go back to Belfast for is the politics. I would not go back as a tourist. It feels rudely insensitive, out of place, and quite frankly a bit frightening. I don't get my tourism kicks from visiting war zones, and this is not a battle ground of the past, for the people of Belfast it is still today's reality.

Oh, and I'd go back for this:


It may not look like much, but what you see on that plate is called boxty, chicken and lentil boxty to be exact, and it is one of the most amazing potato pancake creations imaginable. It's not a stereotype, the Irish really are brilliant with potatoes. Boxty is most popular in the North, so if you ever go you have to get some!! Ryan's was a fabulous pub/restaurant. I chatted with a little old man from Derry who told me the myth behind red hair. I'm still having trouble finding the Gaelic word he called me - I'll have to ask one of the teachers. Basically the myth goes that sometimes when a female human has a baby the fairies switch the human child for one of their own at birth. The way to tell a fairy from a human is the red hair. Apparently my red hair can be good luck in most circumstances. Fairies have a strange place in ancient and modern Irish lore - they're good luck and can grant wishes, but they're also to be feared if they're upset (don't go near a fairy fort). He ended the story with an ominous warning: "Just remember, in the end the fairies always come back to reclaim their own." But my mom already promised that she's going to keep me, so I don't have to worry too much. No one messes with my mother!

I was running a fever and such so I went back to the hostel early. BU did a fabulous job picking the crappiest place I have ever seen. The hostel was painted the colors of puke, was filthy, and our door wouldn't lock, and trust me, you want your door to lock in Belfast. Thanks BU, you really couldn't spring for a Days Inn?

The next day was a little cheerier...so I'll catch up on that shortly!