My Parisian plane arrived at Belfast International about 30 minutes late Saturday evening, and we all descended into the cloud and drizzle to wander our way to the building and through the airport's long and blank corridors. A few feverish minutes later, I burst through the customs door into the brightly lit waiting area and was swept up by Liz, all smiles and twinkles and led out to the car. I jumped in on the left side, ducking 2 giant surfboards and greeting Ben, husband and driver. And we headed off to the coast amidst loads of story telling and laughter. We arrived at Ben's parents' an hour later, and started dinner, wine, and peace talks. Rachel and Collin were a engaging middle-aged couple, activists in the peace process here in Northern Ireland since the 80s, and well read across a large gamut of texts, all of which in the end spoke to the problems of peace and communication. We talked everything, from internet to the stage and visual arts, from hiking the Alps to baby-making, but all in the context of promoting peace. It was a charming evening, and my brain recently french, made the leap rather quickly into academic English.
In the morning I awoke to peacocks and sunlight at my glass door. I jumped out o
f bed hours before the rest and ran to the living room where stand these massive glass windows that look out onto the coast, from which one can see Scotland across the sea, Irish peaks up the coast, and the remains of an old fortress just a few feet down from the vegetable garden. I went out into the vast open sky clouded in every shade of grey, met more peacocks (it turns out that the nearest neighbor raises peacocks and rents them out for weddings and parties and the like), a few cows and sheep, examined the little garden, a bit compromised by the peacock presence, and did some cartwheels. Liz woke up and we jaunted off to explore the ruins, too excited to mind that our speech had been rendered more or less null by the fierce gales of wind. We returned to the house to find Ben and Collin drinking coffee and discussin
g peace and without further delay hopped back into the car in search of a nice surf. The drive around the coast was beautiful--hilly greens dotted with ruins of the middle age and sprinkled with farm animals. We scoped out a couple of spots before Ben settled on one and geared up to hit the waves. Liz and I wrapped up in winter's finest and meandered up and down the white sandy beaches chatting and shivering and doing our best to avoid the steaming heaps of cow dung.The next day we returned to Belfast, hit a cow en route, and saw Liz off to school and Ben off to work. I took the morning to promenade about town and coffee shop. That evening Liz and I taught her beginners yoga class at the community center and threw in a couple of tough arm balances to mix it up a bit. The next night, we visited Kelly's Cellar, a pub the east side taxi service would have refused to service only a few years ago because of the stark catholic / protestant line that still scars the city. Now the one time meeting place of the IRA has signs on the doors to clarify that that business is no longer welcomed. I ordered a Guinness for myself and a glass of whiskey for Liz and we found a seat not to far from the band, a traditional Irish group of three with a violinist, a guitarist, and a guy playing this funny little accordion bagpipe thing that Ben tells me is called a ... The locals were quick to strike up conversations and keen to hear stories from a couple of yanks. We left after midnight after a second drink bought and paid for by our new friends at Kelly's.
Yesterday I woke up early to accompany Liz to the university and to see the downtown area of the city. I stopped off at the tourist center to browse the guided tour section and found a brochure that offered free tours of the city leaving at 10:00 from the city hall. As it was close to ten, I decided to give it a shot. I found an old Irish man holding up an umbrella with a handwritten free tours sign who was in the company of a shy New Zealander and an Anglican minister to be. After a few rambling stories from our guide about the devastating effects of religion and English rule on his city (pointedly directed at our young prie
st) we headed off to discover the city. Our guide was thorough. He had the story behind every building--this building here was an old dance club in the 50s owned by a matron famous for physically dictating the proper space between young dancers, bombed in the 70s and rebuilt after the 98 peace agreement. And here's the square where ... was hung for being a protestant, and here is were Bloody Friday took its victims, and here there were walls and metal detectors that I passed through every evening as a youngster to meet my girlfriend who was on the other side. I remember spending many an evening waiting for her to pass or standing in line to do the same, and it all seemed quite quotidian to the both of us. And here is the bar were I bashed in the face of John Lennon for trying to support the IRA, well he was a mean codger, and in the end it was me who got the short end of it, and so on and so on... We must have covered the city 6 times over, popping in and out of business, artist's workshops, old libraries, music venues, and churches. And at many of the stops, a new guide led us through his specialty, be it the 18th century famine or the time square beheadings, after warmly greeting Arthur and catching up on family and local news. We saw the orchestra practicing, we saw a baby being baptised, we chatted with the whole of the city. By the time he had begun to wind down it was well after 3pm. I left a tip and my new friends to meet Liz and devouer 2 late lunches to fix my calorie deficient.We walked throug
h the park to get to the yoga studio, stoping by the newly opened mummy exhibit at the museum. Got to the studio, set up, and taught a kick ass partner yoga class. Then we took a taxi to West Belfast (the catholic side) and were hosted by a local radio that still does a number of its emissions in Gaelic. The taxi pulled up to an iron gated junkyard around which kids and teenagers were setting off fireworks and throwing rocks. We waited in the car until the radio host came down to open the fence and lead us through the urban remains up a a wide stair case glowing with yellow light and through a warehouse of sorts to the little room that housed the radio equipement and a couple of DJs. The lady interviewed us about our yoga practice and got Liz to talk about all the stuff she is doing to promote mind / body art forms in Belfast. Two hours flew by and we ended by showing off a couple of acro tricks in the studio.We came home and crashed. Today, bookstores and halloween costume shopping!
