Belfast Travel Diary


 The Belfast Clock


The salty air brushed my skin as we walked by the Belfast Lough. Scenic routes and twisted roads had led me to this beautifully understated Irish city. But it is no less heaped in history and folklore than Dublin.

An old pub by the sea is always a dream. My uncle had taken me and my friend Whitney to a little place he adores by the Lough. It was called the Dirty Duck and served up the most beautiful creamy Irish food and seafood. I had an "Irish Mike's Mooha" which was a pork and leek sausage layered upon a pork chop with mash and buttery cabbage. It's something I can imagine my Irish Grandad would have eaten.

We were sat at a table by the window. The brilliant sunlight echoed off the waves and poured in through glass. Though the air outside was cold, the pub, food and staff warmed our bones. The conversations over wine were of hope and admiration of this picturesque scene.

My uncle was a great guide in Belfast. He took us to a traditional Irish pub called the John Hewitt which, to my delight, dished up a load of craft beers. We sat next to the toasty fireplace and soaked in our surroundings. People seemed a lot friendlier here. Though I assume most places are compared to the sharp edge that is London life.
 

My uncle talked of time. How life here isn't by the clock. Being late for something isn't considered an offence or a cause for anger. The concept of slowing down is a foreign one to me and not an easy task for someone who has jammed their life with deadlines and scheduling.

As our trip rolled on, we saw many historical places in the city centre. It was lightly busy on a Tuesday afternoon, but still sprinkled with the footsteps of locals and wanderers. This city is a painting that whispers with the wind of its deep history and culture. From the building of the Titanic to the sore wounds of "The Troubles". I had been here twice and still feel like I have not seen enough of what it has to offer.

So, as we walked under the glow of the city's many old buildings, I pondered on the many differences between here and England. Though we are neighbours, what made the English so much more highly strung? I decided that the souvenir that I wanted to keep from this trip would be not a physical item but an idea- "The Belfast Clock". I decided I would no longer be living my life by strict time and live in the moment. And if you really think about it, time doesn't really exist anyway...

0 comments:

Post a Comment