Chapter 22, In which we can hear that dentist drill in the distance.

Train to Belfast, 11am. We leave B&B 9:30am. Distance, not even 5km. I am genuinely worried that we will not have enough time. Call me crazy, but we had a pretty good driving day in Dublin yesterday, and I could see it coming back to get us today.

On Thursday, tomorrow, as far as this writing is concerned, I see the exceptionally tiny sign that points to Connolly Station parking...this being the train station. Today, that sign was maybe hidden behind a bus. Perhaps I was in the wrong lane. Perhaps I was just more concerned about actually seeing the station. Needless to say, we miss the Connolly Station parking, and 15 minutes later we finally park in a garage dead in the middle of the slums of Dublin, about 5 blocks from Connolly. I immediately have a bad feeling, not now, but knowing we would be coming back late at night and having to wander through here to get back to our vehicle. But, keep in mind it took us this long to actually find a garage that would be open late in this neighborhood, and if we move the car now we are going to miss the train (well, in theory, we Would have missed the train). We walk to the station.

Connolly Station has both the local transit trains, the DART, and the out of town trains, which I believe are called the WHENEVER WE GET THERE, ASSHOLE, SO STOP ASKING. We found the DART station easily enough, but we walked back and forth trying to find the out of town trains. Time was ticking...we get buzzed into the train administration office only to get completely bogus information as to where the station is. Finally I ask somebody who is Not employeed at the train station, and he tells me exactly where to find the platform to catch our ride to Belfast.

In all fairness to Connolly, the station is under major construction, and the entrance was through a small, temporary metal structure that looked more like an outhouse than a place that could take you all over the country. But still, once again, how hard would it have been to put a sign on the entrance telling us it was the station.

Anyhow, we get there about 10 minutes before the train is scheduled to leave. The train is 60 minutes late. I had a feeling that, in retrospect, I would find this funny. As of now, I still don't.

Chapter 23, In which I enjoy the ride, and we are on the streets of Belfast.

Although Nicole tried to entertain the waiting for the train with a trashy Irish newspaper, complete with a page 3 topless photograph, nothing was more soothing than getting on the train and beginning the trip north. We were out of Dublin in minutes and travelling along the coast at a comfortable speed. The scenery was just beautiful, and although I enjoyed a good deal of the scenery I witnessed driving in and from western Ireland, this would be the first time I had an unencumbered view of the landscape with that pesky driving responsibility to worry about. We saw the ocean and ruins and castles and giant old churches and big mountains and rolling hills and cows sitting, standing, stretching, yawning, walking and looking at the train and horses running, sleeping, and rolling around the grass like they were dogs. And, probably lots of other things I'm not thinking of right now.

As we drew further into Northern Ireland, things began to look more, well, American. The roads appeared to grow wider, the towns looked more modern with malls and shopping centers and loads of graffiti. The entire trip took over 2 hours, but I think I enjoyed every minute of it, and the next thing we knew, we were in Belfast.

Making our way down to the city center, I thought there was an eerie silence enveloping everything. Perhaps I was overreacting a little, but everything here had a much more civil pace than what I had found on the trip so far. People were walking normally. The street vendors were almost charming with their voices echoing off the tall buildings around them as they were plugging their merchandise, using every aspect of their Irish accents to do so. One person stopped when she heard Nicole and myself talking; she asked where we were from and then stated she was from Canada but now lives in Belfast. She continued to say that she really loved it there, especially compared to Dublin which she dubbed, "just a city."

One thing was for certain, we were tourists in a relatively non-tourist area. Many heads would turn to look at us as soon as we spoke, no matter where we went. This wasn't done in a bad way, but probably more curious than anything. There were definitely few to no Americans here, and I'm sure we were a surprise to many locals...which is sad. From what we saw in a short day's time, Belfast is a beautiful city motoring along at a comfortable pace. Of course, this was the last thing we expected. From all the horror stories we have heard about Northern Ireland over the years, added with the warnings about not visiting the area from people who knew as little about it as we did, we were both secretly expecting to walk out in the middle of a war zone where we would be running from barricade to bomb shelter to remain safe. Okay, exaggerating a little I am, but by time we left I was a little disappointed that the fears we did have kept us from driving up to Belfast on Saturday, where we probably would have stayed the weekend. I would be interested to see if I still had as high opinion of the city, and area, after spending a couple days.

After walking around town a bit, we had a wonderful early dinner at Roscoff's, a trendy cafe downtown. Then, after a visit to town hall to see the Titantic memorial statue, we headed over to the Crown Liquor Saloon, the place our friends from Monday night had recommended. Nicole grabbed a snug, which was like a booth with high walls and a little door that blocked us off from the rest of the bar. In an isolated way, it was very quaint, and the snug itself had such beautiful architecture made out of a dark, reddish wood, that it really felt like we were somewhere special. We sat comfortably for a couple hours before heading back to the station to grab the last train to Dublin.

Just as a side note, Nicole later told me that the Crown Liquor Saloon has, through the years, been bombed 32 times.

Click on the photo to see some pictures of our day.

Chapter 24, In which we ride the dark train home, and experience the only danger Belfast had to offer.

There was no looking out the windows of the train on the way home; the only thing there was to see was dark, minus the lights of a few stations along the way. We got off in Dublin around 10pm, and began the walk back to our car.

As I expected, the hike back through the Dublin slum street was a bit frightening, and perhaps ironically the only danger the trip to Belfast had to offer. And I'm probably painting the picture darker than need be. Our biggest fear was coming across as Americans, so we just walked briskly and didn't say a word, not unlike the way I act when doing down to DC to see show at the 9:30 or the Black Cat. The worst we ran into were a few punk kids, maybe 12 or 13, throwing sticks around and muttered something towards us, but nothing came from it.

Actually, the most terrifying thing that happened leads into an interesting technological "advancement" that I have not seen in America. Parking garages have pay stations, where instead of having employee attended gates, they have machines at the garage pedestrian entrances where you put your ticket in, pay the necessary fee to exit the station based on the time you have been parked, then removed your ticket, walk to your car, then put the ticket in at the gate to allow yourself exit privileges. Technologically, pretty neat. Scary, especially when the damn machine isn't accepting your 5 pound bill and you are standing in a dark garage not knowing who may come around the corner at any moment, you bet. But, if the technology exists in America, I haven't seen it yet. But, perhaps needless to say, we got out of Dublin with no harm done.

One more parking thing...Dublin also has a really useful and interesting technology where available parking in the city garages is monitored and displayed digitally along the city's major roads. So, for instance, when driving into town, I would know how many spaces were available on the north side of the city (usually around 1000), the number available on the south side (again, usually a high number), and then how many were available in each individual garage, all thanks to a large, digital readout sign along the roads of the city. If you ever go there, you won't miss it. It is, perhaps, the only beneficial sign in the whole city.

Bragging rights: I finally made it back through the hedge maze to our B&B without taking a wrong road. I was pretty proud of myself, and it was a nice way to end a very fun day in a very fine city.