Too Little Time to See All of Belfast

Thursday, August 21st

We were picked up at our hotel this morning by a black cab for a tour/history lesson of the most devastated neighborhoods during the violence in Belfast. There are many black cab tours of Belfast to choose from because there was a huge increase in their numbers during The Troubles. Many bus services were withdrawn when terrorists began bombing buses or stealing them for barricades and setting them alight. 

Flags everywhere on the Shankill Road

Abandoned elevated lookout

Jim, our driver, took us first to the the Protestant/Unionist/Loyalist Shankhill area where he was born. Today street after street is still an overdone sea of Union Jack flags and banners of blue, white and red. The ends of nearly all the buildings were painted with enormous posters dedicated to the cause and its heroes. We stopped at numerous points to wander about and photograph while Jim carefully explained four hundred years of history and the underlying unrest which erupted in the 1960's and lasted until the 1998 Good Friday Peace Agreement. His telling was thoughtful and balanced expressing belief that the great divide was based on nationalism not religion. Jim made a few turns within a short distance and we were in the Catholic/Nationalist Falls Road area. Surprisingly there were no masses of tricolor flags but instead the flags of Gaza and Palestine. The Nationalists consider themselves the downtrodden and oppressed so they strongly identify and support the Palestinians.  More huge murals glorifying their martyrs adorned the ends of terraced housing.

One of dozens of murals

Flags and more flags

The two neighborhoods are separated by miles of walls up to eighteen feet high with many sets of yellow steel gates which are manually closed every night.  On the Shankhill side the road runs along the wall which is decorated with artwork, political slogans, historical quotations, and signatures. Anyone who wishes is encouraged to add their mark. Mike and I declined as we felt "Jan and Mike were here" was of little importance. A fabricated metalwork sculpture is attached with quotations from the Dalai Lama, Bill Clinton, and Barack Obama.

One of dozens of murals on the wall

Quotes from famous people

All of the homes on the Falls Road side were destroyed by fire. When they were rebuilt  hideous steel cages were added by the local council. Each one stretches from the house to the wall in hopes of deterring rocks, debris, and fire bombs. 

At our request Jim dropped us off at the Ulster Museum which has a temporary gallery display, "The Art of the Troubles". Irish artists used all mediums from painting to sculpture to photography to express their feelings and personal experiences. The works were arranged in sections with a poster of background information explaining each theme.

The museum is quite new and arranged so that patrons can begin at the top and walk down to galleries staggered at different levels. We were pleasantly surprised by the diversity and quality of the exhibits. In a quick walk through we saw a large periodic table with specimens and information on every element, engineering displays, and a wonderful natural history room that included a huge elephant skull.

Having read about the Opera House and knowing there were no tours we dropped into the ticket office. Smiling sweetly and asking politely we convinced the staff to let us in for a quick look. Opened in 1895 it is the "best example of oriental architectural theatre design in the United Kingdom." We know nothing about that but it is large and elaborately decorated. 

From there we trekked over to City Hall arriving only minutes too late for the last tour. The unchaperoned are allowed in the ground floor so we took advantage enjoying the elaborate domed entry, the stained glass panels, and arched passageways.

City Hall

Ceiling of the rotunda

Famine window in City Hall

In our walking around town we dropped in to the Victoria Square Shopping Center to climb the central tower and observe the view of Belfast. The view was nice but the structure was breathtaking and found in a rather ordinary mall.

Victoria Square tower

The afternoon was slipping away and it was too late for high tea at the Merchant Hotel. Not wanting to miss the elegance of a bank converted to hotel we hiked over and sat in the lobby and soaked in the grandeur. We found it hard to believe that the chandeliers, sculpture, and ornate ceilings could possible have been designed for a bank. Wow!

Entry of the Merchant Hotel

Entry rotunda

Cousin Michael called to say that Jane was back from London, she would cook dinner, and he would drive by and pick us up. We hurriedly purchased an armful of wine and were collected at our hotel for our second dinner of the week at their house.

Feeling Like We Sailed on the Titanic

Wednesday, August 20th

Before arriving in Belfast we had booked tickets for the newish Titanic Experience. After yesterday's struggle finding our hotel among the central one way streets we decided to leave the car parked and take a bus. This was an excellent (Jan's words), mind blowing (Mike's words) tour. Approaching the building it appears as an enormous silver ship. Inside is a amazing multi story display which took us up and down in stages to reflect the huge scale and verticality of the ship. Our audio tour supplemented visuals, interactive displays, movies, and a Disney like ride through the construction of the ship's hull. It was quite an experience encompassing ship construction, the supporting industries like linen and rope making, the extravagance of luxury travel, the competition between rival transatlantic shipping companies, the sinking, the rescue, and the loss of life. The final exhibits detailed the searches for wreckage and a video of Dr. Robert Ballard explaining how he found and explored the sunken ship. Standing on a glass floor we watched the remote control cameras record the remains including shoes that have sat on the ocean floor for decades. When questioned a docent explained that in those days leather was treated with urine  which has protected the shoes from decay. Add that to the list of undesirable jobs in life!

Titanic Experience 

Front Entrance

Our afternoon was spent touring the Crumlin Road Gaol which housed prisoners from 1845 to 1996. During the Troubles "terrorists" from both sides were housed here. For those not involved in the conflict they were identified as "ordinary decent criminals". The guide credited another common expression, "being called on the carpet" to the gaol. The only room with carpeting was the warden's office and if you were in trouble you appeared in front on him. Maybe true?  About twenty murderers were hung here. Their punishment ended with burial in an unmarked, unconsecrated grave. Today families have asked for remains which requires much searching because unmarked meant that no records were kept. The guide was interesting and informative until the last when he, with a bit of passion, expounded on the value of capital punishment. 

  

Main building of the Crumlin Road Gaol

Ironwork staircases in the goal

A pre dinner drink was our excuse to visit the Crown Liquor Saloon for a glass of red. This incredibly ornate building dates back to the 1880's and is the only pub owned by the National Trust. We shared our snug with a few other people and sipped our wine surrounded by an overwhelming environment of polished wood, brass, stained and engraved glass, elaborate tiles  and the whole lot illuminated by gaslight. Everywhere there were small brass plates with raised letters spelling MATCHES. Was this where you were to strike your match when smoking was allowed?

Bar at the Crown Liquor Saloon

Our shared snug

Dressed for a nice dinner we walked to Ginger, a lovely small restaurant that lived up to its outstanding reputation. Part way through our meal we got into a conversation with a 30ish couple sitting at the next table. The guy was getting increasing excited about the fact that most of the cast of "Game of Thrones" was sitting at a large table about 20 feet away. Although familiar with the books and knowing there was a TV show neither his girlfriend or Mike or I were interested. He kept trying to take photos on his mobile phone across our table refusing to take our advice to stand up, walk by, you will be sorry if you don't. Trying to be nonchalant he would continue to eat his meal before again exclaiming "OMG, I can't believe it!"

A Row of Michael Hands, Living and Deceased

Tuesday, August 19th

Our first stop of the day was the Carrickmacross Workhouse recommended by Jim Hand. Rebuilt and expanded it now houses a museum and community center with a preschool, classes, and social services. Guide extraordinaire Eddie was asked to cease sweeping the outside yard and walk us through the various floors and rooms. Looking a bit like an original resident with rotting teeth, arms held in an inverted L-shape he shuffled along emphasizing the most minuscule aspects of the building with an almost total lack of information about its history. A weird and baffling experience, although the display information and maps were fascinating. At its height over five hundred childrens were housed there at one time. To reduce the numbers hundreds of fourteen and fifteen year old orphan girls, including thirty-eight from here, were shipped to Australia to be brides of the criminals that Britain had dispatched there. When I asked Eddie what happened to the boys he looked puzzled and replied, "That is a good question that I never thought of." Eddie was the stand in for Jim's friend, the center's director, so we supposed that tour guide was not in his regular job description. 

Carrickmacross Workhouse remodeled to 21st century standards

Fever Hospital, remodeled into office space

Unlike our previous failed attempt to find the Cornalaragh farm this time we set off with proper directions. A mass of enormous PVC covered buildings belonging to a mushroom farm now sprawls along the roadside obscuring the original entrance. With no remaining farmhouse or barn our goal was to climb the hill behind the mushroom plant to get a good view of the countryside. Asking permission in their office where several door signs were in Russian, we were told we could go wherever we liked. It was a nice offer but high cement walls and blackberry vines created an impenetrable border. Returning to the car we drove up a narrow, twisting road bordering the plant. At the top of the hill the tarmac turned into a track through someone's property. Before we could step out of the car a woman approached to see if we were lost. When we explained who we were, she said, "I'll see if Granny is up while you look around."  Granny was up and we were ushered into a tiny, old stone house to meet Granny McCabe. She was sitting next to an unlit fireplace in a tiny room with a small table and a couple of chairs. Hanging on the walls were a few certificates, family pictures, and religious icons. Her daughter-in-law disappeared to her larger, modern home across the drive. Granny, age 91, could remember all of Mike's father's sibling's names and the names of all of their respective partners and Mike's cousins who grew up on the farm. She also recalled their days together at the Raferagh School, lamenting that childhood should be happy and carefree but the treatment at school was harsh and dreaded. (For careful blog readers you will remember that we lunched with Sean McCabe whose mother was Bridie Hand. Must see if he can explain the connection.)

Abandoned farmhouse across the street from the Hand Farm

Mike standing on the fields his grandparents farmed

The gorgeous view from the hilltop fields

Mike and Granny McCabe

Back in the car we drove the narrow lanes that The Hand brood walked, without shoes from May to October, to arrive at the school and church. Having previously visited in 2002 we were surprised to see the changes. The school had doubled in size and was freshly painted. There was a new playground and parking. Next door at the church a large funeral service had just finished while we clambered around the surrounding graveyard checking and photographing headstones. Of course the funeral had a typical Irish cultural flavor. The hearse was parked outside with an open tailgate. People dressed in their best were milling around in conversational groups while a few sneaked around the back for a cigarette break. When we walked into the church we found the coffin being ignored at the front of the nave while a large hubbub of people milled around in the aisles and pews. The noise and laughter was considerable and no one seemed to notice Jan lurking at the back in her bright pink waterproof jacket.

Raferagh Church mid funeral

The Michael Hands

After entering Northern Ireland we had a brief drive through in Armagh. We could see the twin cathedrals that were mentioned in the guide book so we drove up the hill to the Catholic St. Patrick's Cathedral. The enormous steeple made it the easier to locate. Built in a park setting with wide steps leading to the entrance make it a very imposing building. Above the door are statues of eleven saints. The interior was also large, decorative, and grand. The organ was being played at full volume to complete the ambience. Kneeling in a side chapel was a middle age man, not praying but texting or emailing on his cell phone. No comment from us.

St. Patrick's Cathedral, Armagh

Our next stop was Belfast.  A brief phone conversation with Mike's cousin Michael ended with a trip to his home for dinner with him and two of his adult sons, Owen and Peter. Jane, Michael's wife, was in London on business so Owen was our chef.

A Glimpse of Ancient History

Monday, August 18th

Late yesterday afternoon we arrived at Newgrange to find that all of the tours were filled. However a friendly woman recommended a hotel that would arrange tour reservations for their patrons. A place to stay and tour reservations in a single move, what a deal!

Morning came, breakfast eaten and a walk across the road for our first tour. Aboard a bus we rode to Knowth to be guided around the site by a knowledgeable young student whose goal is to earn a doctorate in Neolithic religious something(?) After an hour at Knowth we were back on the bus to join a different guide for an hour at Newgrange. These enormous structures were built prior to Stonehenge and the pyramids of Egypt and aligned perfectly to the solstice. Judging from the size and weight of the interiors stones it seems that they were set in place first and the buildings created around them. Stones weighing thousands of pounds were transported miles before the invention of the wheel. Among these ancient peoples were amazing astronomers and architects. We left in awe of their accomplishments.

Knowth

The interior of the mound at Knowth

Newgrange

Time for another castle tour and this time it is Trim Castle located in the center of Trim, a rather small village. We had a quick lunch in the coffee shop/tourist center/gift shop. The enthusiastic young man in charge answered my one question with a ten minute nonstop dialogue that included information about the filming of Braveheart and the wonderful Mel Gibson. The castle is a ruin but we were able to visit all of the floors with a knowledgable and amusing guide. Mike and I left with a new piece of castle life information we had not heard before. Fleas and lice in clothing were killed by hanging it above human waste that was stirred to release ammonia fumes. Her contention was this job was the origin of the phrase, "getting the wrong end of the stick". Great story even if it is not accurate.

Trim Castle

Trim Main Street

Late afternoon found us in Carrickmacross, the main market town near to the farm where Mike's father was born and his family had lived for several generations. Midway down the short main street is the Hand Shoe Store. The owner Jim Hand shares a great grandfather with Mike's father or something like that. He was not in the store but came by the hotel after dinner to share a drink. Although Mike and Jim had never met we had a wonderful time sharing family information.

Guided Tour Compliments of Sean McCabe

Sunday, August 17th

Arrangements were made over dinner last night to meet Sean McCabe and his wife Sandra for a morning at Skerries, a seaside village. We picked Sean up near his home and followed his directions as we drove along the coast and listened to the local history and lore. The three of us toured Ardgillan Castle.The sun appeared and disappeared multiple times every hour so we entered in sunshine and exited in rain. The castle is actually a large manor house set along the sea with an enormous, well manicured park behind it. The guide was full of information about the family, the furnishings, and the ghost who resides there. Unlike most tours where you are threatened with severe consequences if you touch anything, he touched everything and passed around irreplaceable, breakable items so that we could feel their weight. The railroad runs between the house and the sea. At the time the railroad was built the family negotiated an excellent financial contract with a clause that allowed the family to require the train to stop to pick them up whenever they wished to have transportation. If the train stopped and they did not board they were fined.

Ardgillan Castle

In Skerries we met up with Sandra for a casual lunch. A glassed in terrace next to the restaurant allowed us to sit outside and pretend it was a summer day. 

Bidding our hosts farewell Mike and a drove on to Slane, described as "a beautiful 18th century estate village above the River Boyne." The most outstanding structures are four Georgian houses occupying the four corners at the only intersection in the village.  Looking nearly identical they were not planned and built at the same time. One was for sale but we passed on the second home opportunity. As in every village with more than two dozen people there is a castle. Arriving too late we walked the grounds but were not allowed inside. After taking a few photos we left cool, wind blown and spotted with rain. 

Just outside the town was the 520 ft high Hill of Slane, so we clambered out of the car and hiked up the hill in blustery winds and brilliant sunshine.  At the top were two ruins and a walled graveyard, the site where St Patrick allegedly ousted the High King of Tara in the year 433.  St P was a busy boy! The sun came out briefly and we took lots of photos but the wind was so strong it was hard to hold the camera and our balance at the same time.

Slane Castle

Hill of Slane

Returning to Slane we found dinner in a small hotel. The choices are few on Sunday night as midday is the big meal and restaurants close around three. Leaving Town we crossed a low stone bridge with multiple arches spanning the river. The light had not completely faded so we pulled off, walked the area and shot more photos.

River Boyne

The Museum of Transportation seems to be permanently closed

We are the Surprise Guests

Saturday, August 16th

Castleton 

According to all of the locals the last two months have been nearly perfect summer weather but it is cold and windy. I have learned after several days that Irish "perfect summer weather" might not be equal to my standards. So in this very cool, somewhat showery morning Mike and I arrived at Castletown House for our first tour after our first "full Irish breakfast". The house begun in 1722 was finished and decorated by inheritors, a 21-year-old man and his fifteen-year-old bride. Money not being a limiting factor the house has a beautiful floating cantilevered staircase with gold spindles. The ceiling are delicately hand carved and painted white.  The chandeliers made in Murano, Italy were carefully packed in butter to be transported to Ireland. I was surprised to see a large bust of George Washington in the entry. Apparently the owners had great admiration for freedom fighters. When I inquired our guide said I was the first to ever ask. Must have been thousands of Americans who have visited the house. Did they not notice or have they forgotten George?

We were back in the car for what should have been a short trip to see Conolly's Folly in nearby Celbridge. The lady of the house had it built to designate the edge of the estate and to create employment for the poor during the first potato famine in the 1700's. After a number of U-turns, backtracks, and asking directions from a woman who was reluctant to help us because she "could be wrong", our time was slipping away fast. Having eventually located it, the folly was surrounded with cyclone fencing and weeds. Undaunted we digitally recorded the remains. More time was lost trying to find The Wonderful Barn. Both structures are interesting to look at, especially the barn which is conical in shape with its staircase spiraling around the exterior, but both were built as famine relief projects and served no practical purpose when finished. After leaping from the car and walking halfway down a long road we had to abandon our Wonderful Barn visit due to time constraints. We will return.

Conolly's Folly

From here a quick drive to Mike's cousin Ken's home for lunch. His wife Marian had a pre-lunch whiskey in Mike's hand within minutes of arrival. There was talk of the Hand clan, Ireland, and their 8 month old twin grandchildren. We do have a lot in common. Before leaving we walked a block to visit Ken's father Michael who is 91. He had no plans to go out for the day but was still dressed in shirt, tie, and jacket. That seems to be the fashion style for the Hand men of their generation.

Running late again I discretely changed into my dress and applied a bit of makeup as Mike drove down the motorway. At dinner we made our surprise appearance with another of Mike's cousins Sean McCabe and his wife Sandra. Eamon had been traveling for two weeks in Ireland with his daughter Elaine. He was enjoying every minute and looked to be the picture of health, smartly dressed in the Hand uniform.   I must interject a useless but interesting piece of information here. All of the Irish Hands at dinner and many who were not there are known by names different than those on their birth certificates. Elaine is Katherine, Eamon is John, and Sean is also John. Our theory is Mike escaped this tradition by having an English mother. 

Donnie, Eamon, Sean, Elaine, Mike

Returning to Ireland

Friday, August 15th

After dithering back and forth while not sleeping I decided to resume blogging. This isn't for my vast audience of three or four but to ensure a more permanent memory of our Irish holiday. Without a written history Mike and I will conjure up different memories or worst yet no recollection of a place or event.

Our first twenty four hours was a tedious journey from Portland to Seattle to Amsterdam to Dublin. Having enjoyed eight flights so far this year with TSA pre-approved status we found ourselves back in the land of removing shoes, belts, wallets, liquids, and laptops. Glad to be back on the ground we went to pick up our rental car. I know when I am in Ireland. Renting a car took a very long time while the agent and Mike exchanged life stories and multiple laughs.

Howth Harbor

For the first night our reservation was a B&B in Howth, a lovely mixture of tourist spot and fishing village. It could be described as a less tacky Seaside. There are the Ferris wheel and carnival rides but they are gathered in a large open air, manicured spot between the road and the harbor. Hundreds of pleasure sailboats are lined in perfect rows with masts that resemble parallel lines of large white pickup sticks. The shops and restaurants line the opposite side of the road painted in a variety of intense colors. On a side road closer to the sea are the warehouses and equipment of the commercial fisherman. We ate our fresh fish dinner on a picnic table with an offer of blankets to cut the chill of a strong ocean wind. A twenty five minute walk back up the hill ended our day that began on Thursday morning in Portland and ended here on Friday night. Exploring our room we found that it featured a vast stack of towels, all of them almost threadbare, no two matching, and of a style that resembled the fifties. We also had a wardrobe but not a single hanger in it to make it remotely usable!