Belfast: The Wall, Cavehill, and general vibes

I'm in a town called Stranraer in far southern Scotland. It's just dull enough for me to catch up on blogging and life admin without feeling like I am missing out on anything. Off to Glasgow tomorrow for a night. 

Tuesday and Wednesday were spent in Belfast after I got back from Ballycastle. I had booked cheap accomodation in North Belfast in an area I later found out was one of the most dangerous at night, so I didn't hang about much after about 8.30 at night. The Antrim Road was once prosperous, but is now a bit run down and shabby compared to the inner-south of the city, where Queens University stands at the centre of a large cluster of fancy Victorian-era buildings. 

On Tuesday afternoon I walked around the Shankill Road (north west) and saw the pro-unionist pubs and insignia everywhere, and then saw the Belfast Wall and all the other tourists being shown where everything went bad in the 60s and 70s. I felt a bit ashamed for engaging in dark tourism in this way, and didn't go to Falls Road, the corresponding Republican area...but I got the general idea. Of more interest was the focus on the United Irishmen, and the sense that Irish history and symbolism matters more here than it seems to do in (the Republic of) Ireland. I was also struck by the large number of Palestinian flags everywhere. There was a Irish language cafe just down the road from me and I went there several times, no doubt greatly impressing the staff with the fact that I remembered the Irish word for cheese, and guessed, in context, the word for ham. 

On Wednesday, I dropped my 'wee' laundry off with a wee Belfast lady. I actually got a wee bit sick of how the Belfasters use 'wee' in every sentence, even to describe quite large things, like my bag of laundry. There is a campaign to get Ulster Scots recognised as a language and maybe saying 'wee' all the time reinforces the Scottish connection. I'm in Scotland now and I have heard one person say it, once. 

Anyway, then I headed up Cave Hill, which is a rather excellent day walk from North Belfast, leading to a wonderful Iron Age hill fort on a promontory that the locals call Napoleon's Nose. The caves were hard to access, but the hill fort was fine. It's walls gave me protection from the wind while I talked to Louise on the phone. The ruins of a cashel (a round stone dwelling) stand nearby. A stone coronation throne for the O'Neill Dynasty was once situated up here, but it was destroyed by anti-Irish unionists in the 1890s. The O'Neill Dynasty seem to have had one of their main power bases in these hills above Belfast. I really want to follow up on this bit of lore. The Stone of Scone, I had heard about. The Stone Throne of Belfast, I did not know. 

On both nights I went to Kelly's Bar, a notoriously touristy spot in the middle of town, to check live music, and what I heard was pretty good, but I only stayed for a pint or two before heading back up the Antrim Road and tucking in. I was so tied both nights I crashed out at about 9pm. 

I started telling my taxi driver this morning that I had been to see some live music in town and he said "you went to Kelly's didn't you?" and we both laughed. That was the good part of the conversation. Then he started going on about how illegal foreigners are being put up in hotels by the government and how 'lucky' they are. Its the fifth time I have suffered this conversation in Northern Ireland. I hope the Scottish aren't so obsessed by it but I'm not holding my breath. 

Birding has been good. I have just seen quite a few curlews, and gannets, and two or three other things worthy of investigation. Pics to follow.