Ireland 9 - Day 7B, 8, 9 & 10: Three Nights in Belfast

Deep heavy sigh. I don't know where to start.

Belfast has bewitched me. I had no expectations, none at all, just an intense curiosity.

I have vivid recollections of confusion and fear as I watched the news on telly as a kid. The IRA, bombings, Catholics, Protestants...I never really understood it. Out of all the war horror of my early years, this is the one that really effected me the most.

I think the sight of a country that spoke the same language as me, wore similar clothes to me, lived a similar lifestyle to me made it realer. I'm embarrassed to say that - but there it is. It really scared me. It seemed closer to home than anything else. And being raised a Catholic...well, the big question for me was...how can they do it to each other? I never quite got it.

Now I'm starting to.

Coming from a country where my ancestral history is only just over 200 years old, a history of relative peace - no civil war, no invasions, no nasty centuries old baggage - I appreciate not just my good fortune, but also my innocence and idealism of my world view.

I was lucky enough in Belfast to meet some special people who lived through The Troubles, and they shared their stories with me. "The Troubles" is the name given to the period 1968-2008 - the deepest darkest times of the Northern Ireland "war".

I visited the Ulster Museum exhibition (first pic) which was emotional. I took a Black Cab Tour of "The Troubles" - including the Peace Wall, which I signed, and of course the famous murals which dot Belfast. One of the murals, above, has the UFF (Protestant side) lining you up in sight wherever you stand before it. The other big mural above is the portrait of hunger striker, Bobby Sands, which is painted on the side of the Sinn Fein headquarters.

I saw the gates that still, today, are closed at around 5pm every day to keep the two sides separate and safe at night around The Shankill Road. And the police station in town is there (pic 9), still with wire fencing to keep them safe inside.

All of this in a thriving, lively, fun, quirky city! In fact, I'd say probably the friendliest city I found in the whole of Ireland. I ate fantastically well, namely at Molly's Yard (pic 10) and the famous Mourne Seafood Bar (pic 11 is the divine Crab Mayo, and pic 12 one of the best Apple and Berry Crumbles ever!). I listened to hilarious comedy at The Empire. I saw where they built Titanic. I wandered the beautiful Queens University area (pic 13) where I was lucky enough to find my hotel, Dukes at Queens (one of the best hotels I've ever stayed in). I bought two pairs of sexy shoes on the trendy Lisburn Road, and I drank at the oldest pub in Belfast (and the most beautiful I've ever seen), The Crown (pic 14, 15, 16), where I chatted with an ex-English Military man who was stationed here for 4 years during The Troubles. I even lunched with an ex-IRA guy - now that blew my mind!

And I celebrated my birthday. I took myself off to my fave Belfast shop, Avoca, in the middle of town - they have a very cool cafe where I partook of a wacky, but yum monkfish, followed my birthday Meringue Roulade (last pic)! Happy Birthday to me.

So. What an intense 3 days. Such contrast. No wonder I've been in such a reflective place. Belfast cracked my mind way open. I learnt that good and bad are such arbitrary concepts...that all sides were right, from their perspective. I learnt that very good people do "bad things" ("bad" by world definitions) for their good reasons. And I learnt that sometimes there just isn't an answer, that sometimes things really are too messy.

Now, I've known all that stuff on some level for quite some time - but for the first time, I felt it. I felt deep down that the terms "right" and "wrong" were difficult to apply.

I left Belfast a couple of days ago now, and even as I wander the streets of Dublin, I can't get Belfast out of my head, like I said, it has bewitched me...sort of like an exciting, illicit, dangerous affair - I'm thrilled and mesmerised, but still trying to work it all out.