[Written by mary, edited and published by brian]
We had a lovely night in Carlingford, a village which I must say was a very charming place. Brian got up and did his usual “take the camera for a walkabout” for fresh air and to take some pictures of the village. It was after this he commented on how it appeared everyone knew everyone. Our first taste of this was when we were checking in and being shown how to enter the hotel through the semi-private entrance to our room that a car went slowly by with a young lad leaning out…”Dad…DAd…DAD!, eventually to the response, did ya have a good day son?” Center of towne no less.
Anyway, once Brian returned from the walkabout with his as yet un-named pet camera, it was time to head out and venture back to the North, up to Belfast.
You might ask, given how we have made no bones about our view of how Northern Ireland is different from Free Ireland, and how you can feel the difference, and how many of the inhabitants consider themselves British, and how much of the housing looks more like British homes, and how the signs lose all Gaelic, and how the people are just not as polite, or nice. As I said, given all that, why go there? Well, someone is a Titanic junkie (who, me?) and we thought we might take a ‘BLACK CAB’ tour afterwards.
Black Cab tours are with the original drivers that worked the famous Falls and Shankhill roads during The Troubles. (Sunday Bloody Sunday anyone?)
Anyway, we did the Titanic experience (cheaper than the one in Vegas!). It was educational and infotainment. They had replicas of the first, second and third class rooms, descriptions of all the linens, drapes, and fun fact – Wedgwood made the bathtubs, sinks and toilets. The worst fact (other than so many peoples died) was that the entire third class had 2 toilets, yep, 2 toilets for about 1000 people. Does one just get in line, hoping to make it in time????? Did the line ever end, the mind wanders.
So, midway through the Titanic, Brian’s right knee starts swelling up to the size a a small watermelon and decides to not work. Back to the hotel, some pain relievers and elevate his foot. With the hotel parking about 2 blocks from the hotel it’s a major effort for gimpy and I to go get our stuff and limp back to hotel. I can’t wait to get the hell out of Northern Ireland. Highlight, I have been wanting Irish stew, and the restaurant down the street has it, yippee, my first sighting of stew…..
Brian here – more later with maybe a picture or two. Belfast wi-fi is like accessing the internet with a dial-up modem. Remember those?
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