WEEKEND IN BELFAST

SATURDAY
In May 2023, during my sister’s first post-Covid visit to London, we fly to Belfast for a weekend. The two cities are connected with numerous and reasonably priced flights a day. In particular if you travel light and forgo any extra-cost priority offers. This is one of the coldest springs on record in the UK and when BBC Weather shows a sun emoji and temperatures of 22 degrees Celsius, we check for the existence of another Belfast. In California. Or Australia. Or the Caribbean. No, there is only one Belfast, the capital city of Northern Ireland. Suspicious of the over-optimistic forecast for a city in the British Isles, we still dress in layers and take a warm coat. We also pack a T-shirt, just in case. After all, weather-optimism and weather-suspicion go hand in hand when one lives in London.
The first thing that comes into my mind when I think of Belfast are the Troubles, the IRA and the decades of conflict between the Protestants and the Catholics. These days the instances of serious violence are rare and only the occasional security alert reaches the UK main news.
The early morning flight from Stansted lands us into a foggy country and – the wrong airport! Not really the wrong airport, but not the one we expected either. I presumed that there was only one airport in Belfast, the George Best Airport, and paid zero attention to signs showing Belfast International. After all, there are other airports known by two different names; Ronchi and Airport of Trieste, just to mention one. My sis notices it first. The number of the bus to the centre is different from the one suggested on the Internet. So is the price. Instead of five, our fare costs seventeen pounds. Ah well, maybe those online recommendations are a few years old and prices have gone up. Only when we consult the map on our phones, we realise that we are in fact in the middle of the countryside rather than the expected urban environs of the other airport.
So, even when you travel to a city of a medium size – Belfast has a population of less than half a million – never assume there is only one airport…

TITANIC EXPERIENCE



We rush to the hotel to drop our bags. A friendly young receptionist called Kieran checks us in early and upgrades us to a larger room with a river-view.
“At least I did not get us into the wrong hotel…” whispers my sis who is treating us to the Hilton.
Or first stop is the Titanic Experience centre, the most popular tourist attraction in Belfast. The museum, situated in a modern building on the banks of the river Lagan, gives a comprehensive insight into the industrial history of the city and its most famous creation, the Titanic. The interactive ride through a cacophony of sounds, shades of grey and a metallic and dusty smell recreates the everyday life of a shipyard of the time. Next, we learn about the creation and the demise of the ill-fated ship, from the first drawings, through the construction and decoration stages, to her maiden voyage; and the tragedy and its aftermath that reverberates through modern maritime history as an omen, a warning, and an inspiration. Even a hundred and ten years after the disaster, reading the names of people lost at sea and listening to the account of survivors, brings tears to our eyes. We look for Croatian names on the passenger list, all young, all farmers and no doubt hoping for a better life.
We also jump on the nearby SS Nomadic, the tender ship that was in charge of transferring passengers from the French port of Cherbourg to the Titanic.



From here, we take a leisurely stroll down the river promenade to St George’s market. The place is buzzing with life. Traders are selling fruits, vegetables and fish alongside souvenirs, jewellery and paintings. At one end, a trio is playing cheerful folk tunes and the delicious smells of various cuisines trigger our appetite. We sit in the fish-and-chips take-away with a tiny eat-in area. The fish is fresh and delicious while the taste of the potatoes varies from one chip to other; one is soggy and other is excellent. For something sweet we buy Italian pastries – peaches and cannolis – at the stall in the middle of the market. We enjoy them with our coffees in the Caffè Nero opposite the City Hall.
The afternoon is sunny and warm. The temperatures might not have reached the predicted 22 degrees Celsius, but they are not far off either. The garden in front of the City Hall is packed with excited children, family picnics and tourists chasing the best selfie.

CITY HALL



At three o’clock, we join the free guided tour of the City Hall. The flamboyant guide Corina walks us through this over-the-top, surprisingly extravagant palace and gives as a quick digest of a lesson in Irish history. The grade-A listed building was commissioned to replace the old City Hall when Queen Victoria awarded Belfast its city status. The baroque-style building was designed by Sir Alfred Brumwell Thomas and placed on the location of the old International Linen Exchange. No expense was spared. The interior is decorated with the highest class of marble, exquisite stained glass windows and thick carpets of elaborate designs.




After a break in our upgraded room in the correct hotel, we head out for a walk through the pre-dusk city. The wind is picking up and the evening is turning chilly. The final of the Eurovision Song Contest is taking place in Liverpool and numerous venues across Belfast are hosting a tribute party. Bars, pubs and restaurants are overflowing with cheerful Belfastians (or is it Belfasters?)



We head to Kelly’s Cellar, one of the oldest pubs in Belfast (built in 1720) where the Republicans (United Irishmen) were plotting the 1798 uprising. The place is small, dark and atmospheric. The ceiling is decorated with antique pans and pots (including chamber pots) and walls with faded photograph of historical moments. The patrons are cheerful and loud. And comfortable in skimpy dresses and short sleeves. Then again it could be to do with the units of alcohol consumed. We order half pints of the lightest lagers on the menu and find a small table opposite the bar, next to two local women. We talk about wars and conflicts – something two Croatian and two Northern Irish people know a lot about – and hopes for a future of peace and prosperity. Half a pint of the weakest lager makes us sleepy and ready to return to our hotel. After all, our day did start at 3 AM, and we (myself to be precise) also want to catch the voting part of the Eurovision Song Contest.

SUNDAY
We wake up to a grey, rainy and cold Belfast. It feels like winter again and we prefer the comfort of our upgraded room to the chilly winds. Eventually, we get going and leave our backpacks with the concierge. In the nearby café (Caffè Nero of course) we have coffees and pastries and rearrange our plans for the day. Instead of a visit to the Belfast castle that requires a bus ride and earlier start, we decide to go to the Botanical Gardens and the Ulster Museum. The weather seems to be sitting on a rain/no rain seesaw, the clouds are thickening and northern wind gaining pace.

ULSTER MUSEUM



The Botanic gardens, a large green area near Queens University, are nearly empty. The chance of rain is high and droplets of water are shining on the leaves and blades of grass. The gardens host a palm house, a tropical area, a rose garden and the Ulster Museum. Unlike the gardens, the museum is reasonably crowded, mostly with families bringing young kids for a day of entertainment interlaced with a bit of education. The building itself is a fantastic piece of architecture consisting of the old neoclassical building with its colonnade-dominated façade and a large extension in grey, “cubic” brutalist style. The final product is a rather unique and curious construction. Five floors of galleries offer just about everything: science, natural history, local history, fashion and an impressive collection of modern Irish art, where we spent most of our time…



The rain clouds have cleared, but it is still grey and windy. There is one more thing on our list for this weekend; the Solidarity wall, where the art of murals meets the voice of rebellion. Police cars and police officers are stationed at various corners around the wall and, I must admit, their presence makes me uncomfortable. If there were no fears of disruptions, they would not been there. The Solidary wall features heroes of Irish history as well as famous revolutionaries from around the world and it is a monument to the hope for a peaceful future. From here we head to the Shankill Road, known as location of conflicts and killings as well as the centre of loyalist activities during the troubles. Although, these days peaceful and rather empty, this part of Belfast still fills us with a bit of uneasiness…



It is hard to say whether Northern Ireland feels like a different country. Admittedly, I found it weird to take the plane to a city within the same country. I did it only once before, to Jersey in the Channel Islands but Jersey feels much more different to the mainland than Belfast does. At some moments, Belfast does feel like another country but mostly it does not. Belfast makes a perfect weekend away from London. It offers historic landmarks, shops, restaurants and cafes. But, most importantly, the friendliest people I met in the British Isles. In Belfast one feels welcome at every corner: while randomly strolling through unknown streets, when watching the barista making your coffee or waiting for your fish and chips. Or when they add two extra people to the already fully booked free tour of the City Hall. Just about everyone and every instance talked to us and made us feel welcome…
But when asked where we are from, we always said - Croatia…
Slán agat, a Bhéal Feirste