Travel stories: Belfast

I've been traveling a lot over the last two months.  The first big trip mid-October was to Prague with a group of students, then early November I flew to Lisbon to meet up with a fellow Simmons alum and good friend for a long weekend.  This past weekend I went to Brussels and Bruges, again with a group of students, and in three very short weeks my partner Seb and I will fly to New York for the holidays.

I really like to write travel stories, so today I post this story below I wrote about an experience in Northern Ireland in 2005.  I was a junior year abroad student in France, and a fellow Simmons friend Kate Diamond and myself were traveling in Ireland together.  Both of Irish heritage, the trip was somewhat of a root-seeking mission, so I've titled this story "Our Roots."  Enjoy!

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Kate and I were walking eagerly down an unknown street in Belfast, chatting about our families' Catholic origins in contrast to our distant relationship with the Christian faith.  It was our second day in the city, and we felt more at ease there than our current home of France.  Belfast reminded us of our native New England: we drank beer and scarped up French fries and fried fish enthusiastically, surrounded by native speakers of our own mother tongue.
    "Yeah, we never really go to church.  Maybe on Christmas Eve, or Easter occasionally, but even that is rare."
    "I think the last time we went was when my brother Greg was still in high school..." Kate replied, pausing to furrow her brow in the direction of a lightly colored rain cloud that was headed our way.
    "But I was totally born in a Catholic Hospital.  Baptized from birth."
    "Yeah, me too - well, not the Catholic hospital part, but my parents had me baptized when I was a few months old," she said. 
Neither Kate nor myself made it as far as confirmation, but we felt a sense of camaraderie with the outcast Catholics of Belfast who wanted to unite their island as one single nation. Sporting our shiny Bostonian clauddaugh rings, we soldiered on in the poorly paved sidewalk in hunt of the famous murals.

    Trying to understand an unfamiliar city is like putting together a 3-D jigsaw puzzle.  In the middle of this anonymous street, I paused.
    "Kate, are you sure this is the way?" I took our free tourist map out of my pocket and studied our route.
    "Yeah, I think so... at least, that's what my Lonely Planet says.  it should be the right street but lets try to find a street sign just to check," she responded.
    We walked a block further, passing more fast-food shops and Spar convenience stores.  The gray sky was an appropriate backdrop for this sore city, and as we searched for a street sign, I remarked the absence of other tourists in the town.
    "Dude, maybe we should just ask someone.  What do you think?"  I hoped it wouldn't rain during our afternoon exploration.  As a student of politics specializing in terrorism, Kate was thrilled with Belfast and ever more ecstatic to finally see the murals she had been reading about for years.  As a student of literature, I was looking forward to the Oscar Wilde statue in Dublin, but had only recently learned who Bobby Sands was...
    "Yeah, okay.  That could be good," Kate responded.
    We pondered which of the passersby to ask.  The gruff looking teenage boys might not be friendly, and their accents might be difficult to decipher.
    I spotted a nun waiting for the bus.  She had on a navy blue habit, her skirt stopping just below her knees. 
    "Excuse me, M'am, could you tell us how to get to the murals on Shankill Road?"

    "Oh dear, this is Shankill Road all right.  Is it St Nicolas you're looking for?"
    "No Ma'am, we're looking for the Catholic murals."
    "Ooh right, well you know, there is mass at St Nicolas' today at four thirty."
    "Oh, thank you very much ma'am.  Do you know which direction we should go to find the murals?"
    "Ah yes, it's up thataway about two blocks.  You know, there's also a mass tomorrow morning at Saint Mary's.  It's down to the right."
    "Thank you very much," I responded politely.
    "Are you girls Catholic?" she asked with an expectant look in her eyes.
    Kate and I looked at each other quickly.  Thinking back to our earlier conversation I replied, "Why yes, we're both baptized Catholic!"
    "Oh well that's good," said the nun, smiling.
    Just then, the yellow city bus rolled up to the stop.  The nun started away towards it, "You girls have a good day now!" she shouted.
    "You too, thanks very much!" we responded. 
    We turned around in the other direction and found our way to the murals.  We never did make it to mass though.