the most bombed hotel in the world–36 times during the Troubles
fun architecture
Our last stop on this beautiful island. We couldn’t have picked a better city in which to wind up our trip. Belfast, with a population of around 350,000, is not a large city, but it’s just perfect for us. It has plenty to offer in the way of art, architecture, history, culture, and outdoor activities, and it is incredibly walkable. We’re staying in an apartment a half-mile south of city hall, and our car hasn’t left the parking lot.
the Cathedral Quarter
Pottinger’s Entry
our favorite pub, the Duke of York
inside the Duke of York
love the artwork!
Our favorite section of Belfast is the Cathedral Quarter. Off its main roads are small alleyways called “entries” that draw you in by virtue of their snugness. I feel compelled to wander down them, exploring their boutiques, restaurants, and pubs.
sheep, an icon of everything Irish
Finn MacCool’s Salmon of Knowledge, aka the Big Fish
my old friend
Thanksgiving, symbol of hope for Belfast
the weir on the River Lagan
The River Lagan waterfront has undergone a major renovation in recent years, beginning with the river itself. A weir was built across the river to allow for control of the tidal river’s water level, making the shallower stretch upstream of the harbor a friendlier place for wildlife, small boat traffic, and development. We chatted for a while with a guy who works at the weir, and he asked us if we wanted a behind-the-scenes tour. Heck, yah! He took us down into the maintenance tunnel that runs under the weir. We walked from bank to bank underneath the river!
The city has commissioned art pieces for the waterfront area as well, including my old friend, the Salmon of Knowledge. [Finn’s Causeway]
the Titanic Quarter
the beautiful new Titanic Belfast museum
shipyard cranes Samson and Goliath, icons of Belfast’s shipbuilding industry
the portal into Belfast Lough, the Irish Sea, and the world
Over the centuries, the structure of the river has been straightened and deepened to accommodate increasingly larger ships in the busy harbor. Shipbuilding, a mainstay of Belfast’s economy for centuries, reached a pinnacle in the early 20th century when emigration peaked in Ireland. In 1907 the White Star Line authorized the construction of three Olympic-class luxury liners to assist in the transport of emigrants to America. The second of the three was the HMS Titanic built by Harland & Wolff ship builders in Belfast between 1909 and 1912.
In 2012, the centennial year of Titanic’s maiden voyage and tragic sinking in the North Atlantic, Titanic Belfast, a museum commemorating not only the Titanic phenom but also Belfast’s shipbuilding industry, opened on property that once belonged to Harland & Wolff. We can attest to the quality of the exhibits; we spent three hours taking it all in. We also had lunch in the new Titanic Belfast Hotel on the property, built in the refurbished White Star Line offices. Very classy!
What was formerly known as Queen’s Island, home to Belfast’s prolific shipbuilding industry, has been renamed the Titanic Quarter and has been a huge boon to Belfast’s tourism industry. The two large, yellow Harland & Wolff (H&W) gantry cranes, nicknamed Samson and Goliath, are no longer in use, as shipbuilding has all but died in Belfast, but were left standing to pay tribute to the industry that made Belfast a major world city. They’re visible from many places throughout the city, and we’re always delighted to see them peeking around a corner.
Today we walked across the Peace Bridge, a beautiful foot and cycle bridge built in 2011 to commemorate the 1998 Good Friday Agreement that brought an uneasy, but workable, peace to Northern Ireland. The bridge connects Derry’s west and east banks.
The west bank is the historic part of Derry with its walled city and the Bogside. It’s predominantly Catholic and Nationalist, but not completely. (Nationalists want Northern Ireland and the Republic of Ireland to unite into one island nation.)
view of the west side, from the east side
The east bank is the newer part of the city and is mostly Protestant and Unionist, but not exclusively. (Unionists want Northern Ireland to remain part of the United Kingdom.)
view of the east side, from the west side
As you can see, the bridge connecting east and west is hugely symbolic.
I love the contemporary design. To me it says this peace is new and fresh. Forget past injustices, anger, and failed treaties. We are living in a different era now. Our eyes are on the future.
So, Marcus and I are walking across this bridge that is shared by east and west, pedestrians and cyclists. The deck of the bridge is curved and has two different surfaces. There’s a wider, paved path, and off to one side a narrower path made of metal slats that run contrary to the overall direction of the bridge. We discuss the two paths as we walk. Is the narrow path for bikes or pedestrians? we wonder. We decide it’s for bikes and the wider, larger path is for pedestrians because there are more of them. So we keep to the wide side, which is important to cyclists so they don’t have to brake or stop for pedestrians, and important to pedestrians so they don’t get run down by a bike.
Part way across the bridge, I notice our pedestrian side is getting narrower. The bike strip is intruding into the pedestrian space, effectively dividing it into two pedestrian paths. Eventually there is not enough room on either side of the bike path for two people to walk side by side. What do we do now? I wonder. Should I walk on one side of the bike path and Marcus on the other? Or should we walk single file on the same side? Either way, it would be impossible to have a conversation. I find myself getting annoyed. Why would the designers of the bridge intentionally divide the majority of its users and put them at a disadvantage?
Aha moment: Was this invasive cycle path design deliberate, to make a point?
By the time we get to the other bank, the cycle path has shifted all the way to the other side of the bridge deck, and we are once again enjoying a nice, wide pedestrian path…from a different vantage point.
Maybe I’m reading too much into this, as I’m sure most people just ride or walk wherever they want without a care in the world. Even so, that kind of peace of mind is priceless.
Free Derry, a Catholic-proclaimed no-go area for the British Army
I typed in the title to this blog and then stared at the empty screen. How can I explain to you what I’ve seen in Derry?
If you’re over 30, you’ve likely heard the words IRA, Belfast, and violence in the same sentence. But have you been following what’s happening in Northern Ireland over the years? I wasn’t. It was something I was going to look into one day, but never did—until now.
Before this trip, I couldn’t find a source on Northern Ireland’s Troubles that was intelligible to the uninitiated. They were heavy, scholarly works, and I couldn’t follow the morphing of paramilitary groups on both sides of the conflict as they split, tweaked agendas, and modified methods.
I knew Belfast wasn’t the only city in Northern Ireland to have troubles, but I didn’t realize how bad it was in Derry. On our first day in the city, we walked to the grocery store—right through the Bogside, the heart of the historic unrest. The murals were everywhere. I didn’t understand them, but the pain was obvious.
During our week, this is what I learned. It’s not comprehensive, but it’s a start.
In the 17th century, Scots were planted in Ulster to establish an English/Protestant base in an Irish/Catholic country. Protestants were given the political upper hand and managed to keep it, although greatly outnumbered by Catholics, through four centuries.
In the 20th century, the Catholics were still stuck in the bogland because the Protestant government thwarted every effort they made to improve their lives.
Unemployment was as high as 20%, yet new factories were built elsewhere.
The Protestant-controlled housing authority made it almost impossible for Catholics to obtain new housing because voting laws granted only one vote per residence. Multiple generations under one roof had only one vote. Business owners and owners of multiple properties (Protestants, for the most part) were awarded one vote per residence or business.
Gerrymandering was rampant to prevent Catholics from diluting Protestant voting precincts.
Essentially, Protestants controlled Northern Ireland’s parliament and government agencies and were attempting to frustrate Catholics to the point of emigration—either to the Republic or abroad. By the 1960s, Catholics were still here and still fed up. They began to organize non-violent demonstrations patterned after Gandhi and Martin Luther King, Jr. To the shock of the world, their peaceful protests were met with bullets.
In 1972 the atrocities in the Bogside reached a peak on Bloody Sunday. Fourteen unarmed protesters were shot and killed—and many more wounded—while fleeing from British soldiers or helping the wounded. Official reports claimed they were armed. Early investigations found the deaths justified.
In 2010 a twelve-year investigation found that none of the victims was armed, and none of the deaths was justified. David Cameron, UK Prime Minister at the time, apologized to the families of the deceased on behalf of the British government. There are many more investigations in the works, and many more wounds to heal.
As difficult as it is, it’s time to own up, forgive, extend a hand, and move forward in peace. Northern Ireland has suffered long enough.
Derry or Londonderry? Irish or British? Nationalist or Unionist? Catholic or Protestant? It’s complicated.
Ferryquay Gate
There is so much extraordinary history here, part of which is my own personal history. About 20 years ago my sister, the family genealogist, discovered that our paternal grandmother’s parents emigrated to New York from Londonderry in the late 1800s. Until that time, we had no idea we had Irish blood. My great-grandparents’ surnames were Fife and Gilmour. You won’t find either of those on keychains in Irish souvenir shops. So how did they get to Ireland?
the city walls are one mile in circumference and 12 to 35 feet thick
First, let’s get this Derry-Londonderry thing straight. Which is it? The name of the original Irish settlement was Doire (DUR-a), meaning oak grove. The English, after they arrived in the 12th century, called it Derry. And in 1613, when King James I granted a charter for the development of a British city here, he tacked on the London part to acknowledge the London guilds who were financing the project. Today it’s called Derry-Londonderry, or Derry, or Londonderry, whichever satisfies your political outlook. I call it Derry because it’s less of a mouthful and easier to type.
Apprentice Boys Memorial Hall
So why would a British king want to build a new city in Ireland? As the Protestant king of a country that just a century before had been Catholic, and was still immersed in an often bloody religious reformation, his territory of Ireland was a bit too Catholic, uncivilized, and hostile for his taste. How better to tame them than by planting some proper, loyal, Presbyterian Scots amongst them? James started in Ulster in the north, the most resistant of the Irish provinces, with what became known as the Ulster Plantation (for the planting of settlers, not crops). We call them Scots-Irish in the US. In Ireland they’re the Ulster Scots.
St. Augustine’s Church, within the walls
In a remarkable feat of early urban planning, the London-backed The Honorable The Irish Society (that’s not a typo) built a beautiful walled city for the Scots in just five years, the only completely walled city remaining in Ireland today. Why was it walled? To keep out the unruly, and justifiably angry, native Irish whose lands had been confiscated to build the city. The British took the best, high ground on the River Foyle, relocating the Irish clans to the surrounding bogland.
St. Columba’s Cathedral
So how did James expect to assimilate the staid Scots with the wild Irish with a 12-to-35-foot thick stone wall between them? Well, in my humble opinion, that was just the beginning of the Troubles between Protestants and Catholics in Derry that surfaced again and again for 350 years, at times most violently. But that’s a story for another day.
the Guildhall
I believe my great-grandparents are descendants of the Ulster Scots. Based on a tip from a local genealogist, my sister has found the Irish parishes they were from and will continue to trace their branches of the family tree as far as she can.
Ebrington Square, former army barracks on the east side of the River Foyle
So am I Scots or Irish? I’m sure in the 250 years, from the time the Scots settled in Ireland until my great-grandparents’ emigrated to America, there was a little assimilation going on. Don’t you think? I would say I’m both, but then again it’s complicated.
Derry Girls, a mural tribute to a hugely popular Brit-com
Just outside the monastic site were these crazy remains of Clonmacnoise Castle. One of the many Norman castles built in the 13th century to safeguard the Norman occupation of Ireland, this one was built to secure the midlands, specifically the bridge over the River Shannon, a vital trade route at the time.
We’ve seen lots of ruins, but never any seemingly dumped on their heads! How did this happen? My guess is Finn MacCool was responsible. The legendary Irish giant was accused of throwing boulders across the Irish Sea to Scotland. But more on him later as we make our way to Northern Ireland….
Galway is the fourth largest city in the Republic of Ireland—after Dublin, Cork, and Limerick—and by far the most charming of the four. Called the City of Tribes, it has an interesting history.
When King Henry II of England decided in the late 12th century that it would suit his interests to appropriate Ireland for England, he gave away prime Irish real estate to the English gentry who served him well during the occupation. Over the centuries these families assimilated into Irish life, marrying Irish women, cultivating the land, and establishing successful commercial businesses. Galway, run by a consortium of fourteen families of British origin, became the third largest port in the British Empire after London and Bristol.
Spanish Arch
After the English Reformation in the 16th century, the Irish adopted the new religion, although often in name only and frequently reverting to their beloved Catholicism. By the mid-17th century, King Charles I had had enough of these upstarts who refused to accept the Church of England and sent Oliver Cromwell over to convert them by force, which often resulted in death.
When Cromwell arrived in Galway, he mocked the fourteen families, belittling them for their assimilation into a savage culture by referring to them as the Fourteen Tribes of Galway. Proverbially, Cromwell may have won the battle, but he lost the war. The families took great pride in adopting the label, continuing to call themselves tribes in defiance of Cromwell and the throne. Those fourteen families are alive and well today in Galway, running the government by more democratic means these days. Their names are very prominent in local politics.
Saturday Market at St. Nicholas Church
We had a great apartment for exploring this very walkable city. A few blocks away was Eyre Square, site of the 13th-century English castle (now gone) and still the hub of the city. A few blocks beyond that was the heart of the old medieval city where some of the taverns have been operating since the 15th century! We happened to be exploring on a Saturday morning and got to take advantage of the Saturday Market there.
bank of the Corrib
A bit farther on and we were at the Spanish Arch on the River Corrib, site of the docks where the Spanish merchant ships used to unload their cargo during Galway’s heyday. The River Corrib is Europe’s shortest river. Four miles in length, it runs from Lough Corrib north of the city to Galway Bay. And they make use of every inch of it. It was the main transit system back in the day, and today has a nice riverwalk along its banks where young kids gathered to soak up the sun during our week of fantastic weather.
And just upriver we discovered a warren of great bars and restaurants in an area on the river that once housed several busy wharves and warehouses. Galway is known for its good food—the best we’ve had so far—and we took advantage while we were there. Lovely city!
The river is so clear we could watch the swan eating!
When Marcus and I were researching our trip to Ireland, we watched the film version of Angela’s Ashes, Frank McCourt’s account of his impoverished childhood in Limerick. One thing that was readily apparent from the movie: It rains a lot in Limerick, like all the time. Frank and his brother, Malachy, were always running through Limerick’s streets and alleyways in the driving (horizontal) rain. At one point the rain was so heavy that their family had to abandon the first floor of their home, which they had to wade across to get to the stairs, and live on the upper level. For us, this trip is all about the outdoors. I only booked four nights in the Limerick area.
King John’s 13th-century castle
True to form, the weather was pretty cold, overcast, and wet while we were in the area, which suited my recovery from food poisoning. Apparently I ate something that didn’t agree with my cast-iron stomach in a pub on the beach on the Dingle Peninsula, which made for an interesting (not) transition to our new home-from-home in the Slieve Felim Mountains about ten miles east of Limerick. But every cloud has a silver lining, and this one was a beautiful, light, airy remodeled stable/cottage on property owned by a warm and welcoming Irish couple—a nurse and her husband. It doesn’t get much better than that! My best friends for the next four days were a fleece blanket, a wood stove, and The Bodyguard on Netflix.
one of two gatehouse towers
But eventually I was able to muster the energy to leave our bucolic surroundings and venture into the city. We spent a couple of hours in King John’s Castle experiencing a fascinating interactive exhibit on the role of Limerick’s castle in the incessant Anglo-Irish conflict and having lunch in a wee snug pub on the river. The return to food in general, and pubs in particular, was challenging psychologically, but it’s hard to go wrong with a good, hearty Irish stew on a cold and rainy day. Things are looking up. Who knows? Perhaps the sun will come out tomorrow.
