Done!--North Ireland Without a Car (A Trip Report Continuation)
 

This is the second half of my DONE!!—Devon, Cornwall and Northern Ireland Without Renting a Car Trip Report. I knew that when I was searching for information on this forum for just Northern Ireland--especially when it came to personal experiences with public transportation--I was having a tough go of it. Therefore I've tagged this part as both UK and Ireland, even though technically, we never left the United Kingdom during our entire 18-day journey in Devon, Cornwall and Northern Ireland.

Getting to Northern Ireland from Cornwall; Deciding our Locations
 

On Wednesdays, Flybe offers a noon non-stop flight from Newquay Airport (NQY) in Cornwall to George Best Belfast City (BHD). That flight date/time was one of the key factors in deciding when we would leave Cornwall for the second half of our trip.

Trying to decide which days we would stay where when was darn hard. There was so much I wanted to see, but we still wanted to "chill" in Belfast the way we had in Dublin a few years earlier. Eventually I had to toss out seeing County Donegal (that county may be in the north, but it's not Northern Ireland per se) and stopping in Omagh at the Ulster American Folk Park. And there would be no ferry trips to Rathlin Island, either. Instead I centered our travels on

The Coastal Causeway
Derry (Londonderry)
Belfast

and even then, I kept shifting dates as to when we'd hit those spots. Eventually I decided that Belfast and Dublin weekend day-trippers to the Causeway would present us with some difficulties (I was right), so once we landed at George Best, we would immediately head for our first few nights in Bushmills. Then we'd spend two nights in Derry and finish out our trip in Belfast before we flew back to Heathrow and home.

One decision was easy-peasy: we would buy a one-week iLink card good for all zones in Northern Ireland. Then we would decide if we wanted to top it off or buy day tickets or whatever near the trip's end in Belfast.

And one decision not even in the running was a car rental. We had taken four cycling trips in the Republic of Ireland and one trip solely dedicated to a week in Dublin. We had done just fine without a car, even though people who had yet to visit Ireland had told us it could not be done (funny how that works). As I explained at length in the Devon/ Cornwall half of this trip report, it's not that we're trying to save money by not renting a car. WE JUST DON'T WANT TO DRIVE!

And we didn't!

It's interesting you should say this, Thursdaysd. We had avoided touring Northern Ireland, even though my sister, who HAD toured much of it during the Troubles, raved about its beauties.

My sister and I had worked over several summers in Wildwood NJ in the 70s with many Irish Catholics from Northern Ireland. They, like us, had traveled there in groups with sisters, brothers and cousins during the summer months to make as much money as possible within a few short months to fund their educations back home.

My sister had become semi-engaged to a young man from Belfast in the process, and hence later traveled to Northern Ireland to experience his world. She soon decided it would not be possible.

Although our Irish summer work friends had avoided discussing their lives back home--they preferred to live in the carefree present for a few months--over the course of three summers, we certainly got to have a bit of understanding of their dire circumstances as Catholics and also of the dire political circumstances of Northern Ireland. Yet whenever we all were out at an Irish bar, when it came time to "pass the hat" in support of "our friends in Ireland" (aka, the IRA), they stopped the outreach of our hands. "You'll only be supporting people who are willing to blow up our homes if it 'helped the cause' " was a refrain we'd hear over and over again.

Thus, decades later, my husband and I tried our best to arrive with an open mind. I think it helped that my husband is Catholic with Ulster Ireland ancestors who fought in the American Revolution and I am Protestant with two ancestral lines that came out of Ulster Ireland between 1760 and 1820. We also both know we are NOT our ancestors; we are ourselves, and our marriage was founded on being willing to evolve our viewpoints. We often laugh about views we held dear when we met--they just are no longer pertinent!

I'll soon make a short list of my most recent pre-reading for the experience in case others want to get a feel for things before they visit.

"Get a feel", though, is the operative phrase. My husband and I often said during this trip segment that we were living through the "Blind Men and an Elephant" scenario. There is just no way we can ever fully understand the circumstances--we were only touching ears or tail or feet, etc. We could only "feel our way around" with hopes we would leave with a better insight.

And as we'd often tell our bar mates throughout the trip, if one arrived in Cheyenne, Montana, one would thing, "Oh, the United States is this" or if one arrived in Philadelphia, PA, one would say, "Oh, the United States is this." There's just no way to quantify a city or a country, and at least, we knew not to try. We could only make sure we were listening, not telling.

Getting to Coleraine and then Bushmills
 

I am a worrier by nature, so I had made extensive notes about our trek from the BHD baggage claim to the Belfast Great Victoria Train Station and our ensuing travel to Coleraine and Bushmills.

It went PERFECTLY. My only real worry is that we would arrive in Coleraine after 5:50 pm, thus creating a need for a taxi to Bushmills Inn. But the Bushmills staff automatically replied, "No worries--there's always a taxi at the station."

I loved the Bushmill's Inn staff, by the way.

Yep, the tourist information desk was right to the left of baggage claim. Yes, they could sell us the one-week, all-zone iLink card (around 60 pounds and change per person). Yes, the card would include the 600 Bus to Great Victoria Station. Yes, the 600 was right out the door, a bit to the left 167 feet away (yep, that's in my notes). Phew. I could breath.

We settled in our seats on the bus, and a lovely couple to my left said, "So you cycle Backroads?" What???? How could they know that? They pointed to our luggage tags. Oh, I keep forgetting that. I replied, "Well, no more. Those days are gone. But we did over 17 trips with them." It turned out that they were cyclists themselves, and they were just returning from Cornwall. I was impressed. "Wow, if you ventured outside the Camel Trail, I am in awe." They assured me there was no need for awe--they did stick to a short segment of the Camel Trail. The husband of the pair had recently developed Parkinson's (late onset), and as I had only accidentally been informed just recently, aerobic activity holds the disease at bay. So not only is the husband dedicated to keeping his cycling in his life, but he's also adding things like...BALLET! Totally cool.

Wishing them well, we exited at the Belfest Europa Bus Centre, and we wheeled our luggage to the connecting Great Victoria Bus Station (my notes made no mention of the steps to do so). Yep, our train to Coleraine would leave at 10 minutes past the hour, and in 10 stops we'd be at Coleraine.

At Coleraine, we walked to the connecting Coleraine Bus Centre (to the left!) and took the 402 towards Ballycastle. We had to learn to lay our smartcard on the bus ticket reader to get a ticket, but once we were "schooled," off we went after informing the bus driver, that as idiotic Americans, we would have NO idea where the Bushmill's War Memorial stop would be. He laughed and said, "I'm used to you! No worries."

In around a half hour, after an amazing ride of spectacular ocean scenery, the driver said, "Bushmill's War Memorial it is." And we descended the bus into...rain. We quickly made our way down the street, going in the wrong entrance--the Bushmill's bar. Of course my husband remarked, "This is the right entrance for me." He promised the lovely bartender he'd be back in minutes.

We made our way to reception at this rabbit warren of a hotel, where we were shown to our room. More about the room later. We indeed were parched and found our way with some difficulty back to the bar. Mark, the young bartender who had helped us navigate to reception, now started helping me with local pronunciations and helped my husband explore local beer options. After trial and error, we settled on a Yardsman IPA from Belfast's Hercules Brewing Company. Not great, but not bad.

We had dinner reservations down the street at Tartine. We put on a bit better clothing, donned our Goretex and raised our umbrellas for the short walk. Tartine is a lovely place and our meal was quite good. The house IPA from Lacada Brewing in Portrush was not "us" but we were happy we tried it. There was a wedding going on, and I loved the bride's dress. My youngest was the bride's doppelganger, and since we had just purchased my daughter's wedding dress, I made sure I did not photograph the party because the bride's wedding dress would have been even better than the one we had purchased.

We returned to the hotel and planned to sleep. There was no trad music within miles scheduled for Wednesday night, so we might as well sleep. But I thought I was missing a clothing layer--there were so many layers to keep track of!--and I returned to the pub to find...a trad session. It turns out that the bridal party had commissioned the local band to play on a Wednesday night, and we all were allowed to join. I ran back to our hotel room, dragged my husband out of bed, and nestled in for an hour or two of excellent music. Wonderful. Thank you, you lovely bride!

Next: We Tackle the Causeway

Darn--I just realized I did not list this as a trip report. I was concentrating on correctly tagging and missed the obvious!

I gave it a go, Thursdaysd. We'll see. Thanks for the idea!

We Tackle The Coastal Causeway
 

We had a very plush room at Bushmill's Inn. It actually was two stories, with a sitting area and shower/toilet downstairs and a bed and tub/toilet upstairs. But we started laughing because it came with a multitude of problems.

First, the staircase had short steps, so descending and ascending had to be done with a lot of caution. With my natural clumsiness in mind, my husband secretly and proactively searched for just how one called emergency services in Northern Ireland.

Second, even with cold temperatures outside the room, the inside was a greenhouse of heat. Leaving the windows and curtains open was the only way to get air up into the rather too toasty loft sleeping area. Staff had placed a fan in the lower area underneath the staircase, and soon, we dragged it upstairs and tilted it to direct the cooler low area air up into the bed area.

So, OK, we had that sorted. What's the problem? After all, the bed was comfy and the room was clean, clean, clean.

Well, our stay was during the longest days of the year. And the room never really got dark. Even with cloud cover, there was a sort of glow through the windows, which we could not close or cover without suffocating, throughout the night. We'd wake up thinking it was dawn and then just burst out laughing.

How lucky we were to have such woes! What a great complaint to have in our older years: "Our days were too long."

Still, if sleep is important to you at this time of year, do chose another room type.

Breakfast was great the next morning--the best smoked salmon of our trip--once we actually found the breakfast room. Let's repeat: this place is a fun, cozy, delightful rabbit warren. After breakfast, I told my husband that my new method to return to the room would be to walk directly OUTSIDE after eating and walk back inside via the reception area. I was willing to do so in cold and rain. My husband thought I was nuts, but I sure got back to our room quite a few minutes ahead of him every time.

We packed up for the day: layers, rain gear, sunscreen, gloves, hat, extra socks; knee sleeves for my husband and Achilles sleeves and hiking poles for me. I learned long ago that if one travels to Ireland, no matter what time of year, pack gloves and hat.

Our goal was to head towards Ballycastle via bus, stop at the very least at the Giant's Causeway and the Carrick-a-Rede Bridge, and check out a trad music venue in Ballycastle in case we'd want to go there that night. I knew there were other things we would just see along the way on the bus, but I had no need to stop at every lookout. It we wanted to do so, we could stop on our way back from Ballycastle. In other words, "no worries!"

So it's full disclosure time here. There are pluses and minuses doing things the way we did it:

1) If you take a tour bus, you get dropped off far nearer the Causeway and Rope Bridge entrances. We had quite a hike in and out of both from the regular bus stops, which did not bother us one bit but could present a hardship for others. We observed that others were physically having problems even dropped off near the site, and remember, the temperature was quite cool. A hot day would create an another set of difficulties. So be forewarned.

2) Even with our "cheap" method of touring, there could still be associated costs. I could care less if we visited the Causeway museum, which would have taken additional time and money, even though we would have gotten a discount just by showing our smartcards. I had read a lot about the geologic formations in the area, and my husband loves learning about all this stuff on the fly during our journey anyway. So our entry to the Giant's Causeway was totally free. The Entry to the rope bridge, though, was 9 pounds per person. However, a lot of people chose NOT to cross the bridge, and if they chose that option, the scenic area all the way to and around the bridge was free.

Back to our adventure...
We made it from the bus stop up the hill to the Giant's Causeway entrance, where we had a choice of paths. I had read this page carefully before we left, and I knew to take the Blue Path to the stones but, if the weather held, could explore some other ways back.

We played on the stones for a bit once we got down there, but seriously, the wind almost whipped me off a few times. There are lookouts down there for falling people, and I asked one of them how bad that day was. He smiled and said, "Mild." Whoa.

As a matter of fact, the weather seemed to vary at every 20th pace. Our gloves and hats were on, and at one point, I told me husband, "I can't believe I kept my rain pants at the hotel.

After I got my fill of feeling like a weakling on the rocks, we took the Red Path past the rocks and used the Shepherd's Steps to ascend to the Cliff Path back. I kept stopping to take pictures of wildflowers about every 3rd step until we started the worst of the climb. God Bless my hiking poles. At the top, I said to the others catching their breaths, "What no pub here?" But once we got back to our bus stop (I took a zillion more pictures of wildflowers), we indeed had "breakfast beer" at The Nook near the entrance. Done!

We got our next bus and disembarked at the Carrick-A-Rede Rope Bridge stop. We descended a hill to get to the entrance, where again, the entry fee to cross the bridge was 9 pounds but remember, just hiking up to the bridge was free. Here are details about the hike.

This area was crowded, so we were quite pleased we had decided to arrive on a Thursday and had not attempted any of it during a pretty weekend. And the day was brightening, that's for sure.

We made our way back to the bus stop, where we were a bit unsure of where we'd pick up the next bus. I stood where the bus had dropped us off (no bus sign) and my husband stood across the road at the "real" stop. The bus stopped for me. :)

We decided to sit back and enjoy the view all the way to Ballycastle. And in addition to the stunning view, we delighted in the company of a sweet older couple who had sailed in their boat to Ballycastle from a Scottish island with their two Labs, both of whom were lying at their feet on the bus. From Ballycastle, their return voyage home would take two days.

Once we reached Ballycastle, we parted ways and walked our way to O'Connors for a light lunch of soup and a sandwich. The staff was sweet to us, but we just didn't know if we wanted to be there that night for the trad.

We found our return bus stop and headed back towards Bushmill's. The sky had clouded over again; nonetheless, the scenery was gorgeous. My husband was so quiet and I asked if anything was wrong. "No, not at all," I'm just thinking how great it is that I get to absorb all this and not be behind the wheel of a car."

On our way back, we decided we'd try for the Early Bird dinner at Tartine. I called while we were on the bus, and they said they had just one slot left, at 5:15. We took it! Back at the hotel, we quickly showered and made our way down the street. While seated in the little lounge there waiting for our table, we watched at least 20 people get turned away. The caravan parks lining the Causeway created a lot of drop-in traffic, I'm sure. Some of those turned away were really upset about it for some reason, pointing out all the empty tables in the back, not understanding the demands of a kitchen. A lot of the people turned away were in dirty hiking clothes, but since I saw others who were seated similarly garbed, I doubt their clothing was a factor. It's clear on the restaurant website that reservations are highly recommended, and emailed requests are NOT the way to do it.

After a meal less satisfactory than the previous night's but still good, we trekked back to our room. Should we or should we not make our way to Portstewart where we knew there was trad at the Anchor Inn? Transport there by bus would be no problem and the superb Bushmill's reception staff had given us a slew of taxi numbers to get us home. But we had to admit, we just did not feel up for it.

I decided to soak in the upstairs tub until my muscles started forgiving me, and I swear my husband took the same amount of time in the shower downstairs. We did some minimal packing for our next day's departure, amped up the fan to cool off the upstairs, made ourselves some tea and read a bit downstairs, and then hit the hay when the loft's temperature had lowered enough.

And we giggled again every time we woke up at "dawn".

Next: The Open Fever: We Visit the Pro Shop at Royal Portrush

I wrote a long post last night and it disappeared. I am saving all the links. We have done two day tours of the coast and one trip on our own using the train but you have this down and want to save.

Macross,
I'm happy to know this thread may be of use.

I, too, had posts on this thread disappear. One took me an hour to write. I'm hoping this reply goes through.

Yeah! Something finally posted. I'll start again tomorrow. I have a reading list that will take forever to write correctly.

I'm still with you and looking forward to hearing more.

AlessandraZoe- Nice write-up. Especially good info as your decision to go via public transportation is the road less traveled. Ireland also seems to be a nice place to go slow in.

My compromise is to have a rental car for only a part of a trip. I was in Portugal recently and really enjoyed using the the trains/trams/subways to get around for the first 5 days, then a car for 5 days, then public transportation again after a plane jump to the Netherlands.

So please continue when you have the time, I'm enjoying reading it. And good job with staying so active, I felt lazy thinking about all your bike tours. My bikes have engines.

"The Open" Fever: We Visit the Pro Shop at Royal Portrush
 

The next morning, we enjoyed another great breakfast at the Bushmill's Inn. We would be heading to Derry (Londonderry) by train at some point in the day, but there was no rush on this simply gorgeous day. There would be a train every hour, it would only take us around a half hour to get TO the train at Coleraine, and the journey from there to Derry would be under an hour.

By now, all the anxiety I had felt planning out trains, planes, and buses for Northern Ireland was totally dissipating. I told my husband I could not believe how long it took me to realize when planning that our connections would not be that complicated. For example, what I thought might be a complex rail route was idiotically simple: a train leaves from Belfast, heads northwest to Coleraine and then continues on to Derry. Once at Derry, it returns the OTHER way. Simple, simple, simple.

And what would happen if we would miss the 402a bus from Bushmills to Coleraine? Well, we could take the 172 (a route that does not go along the beautiful coastline) or the 402 bus. In effect, it was "no brain needed" touring. In fact, had we arrived on a weekend or been touring in July or August, we could have experienced the Giant's Causeway & Bushmills Heritage Railway to have taken us to the sites we had visited the day before. It runs 8 trains a day on Sat and Sun May through October and every weekday, too, in July and August. I suspect our iLink card would not have worked on it, but the the fees--5 pounds per person--would have been nominal.

We packed up and checked out, asking reception to hold our bags. We boarded the next bus to Portrush (a 402 or a 402a) and settled in to enjoy the views. We did not stop at Dunluce Castle--just seeing the ruins from the bus was enough. Instead, we were heading for Royal Portrush Golf Club, the site of the 2019 Open.

No I don't golf. My husband used to eat it and breathe it--he and his evil companions would golf 54 holes of golf every Saturday. Yep, we golf widows would be in a constant teeth-gnashing mode. But eventually, it dawned on my husband that there might be more to life than aiming for the greens, and the madness gradually left him without any intervention from me. Still, my husband was all excited to check out the Pro Shop so he could gift my youngest's fiance, another golfer, with Royal Portrush gear.

I had emailed the Pro Shop weeks before we left to see if they'd be open even though the course would be closed for the six weeks prior to The Open. They responded right away, saying they'd be open. The course security guy was ready to head us off at the entrance, but when we said, "Pro Shop", the gate opened. We made our way around back and found the shop. My husband took over an hour to decide upon the perfect shirt and the perfect hat and the perfect bag tag. It boggled my mind. In the meantime, I got to observe the other shoppers, and that "attitude" that can sometimes appear in a golf club was beginning to constrict my breathing. I told my husband I'd be right outside, and I got the opportunity to chat with two of the course greenskeepers, really sweet guys who were all excited about getting to show off their hard work in a few weeks. My husband finally left the shop, proudly holding his purchases like a kid with a new puppy, and I took pictures of him in front of "The Open" display sign. Egads, he made me send the pics to 7 different people right away. Sheer madness.

We rode the bus back to Bushmills, drinking in the views again. I wonder how long it would take me to become inured to all this beauty if I lived here? Once we arrived at the hotel, we got a pint in the hotel's restaurant bar, which is full of really neat cubbies and corners, to plan our day.

Heck, it was nice--not raining for a change--so we decided we'd walk around town, a pretty level walk, to properly see it in sunshine. The town was proudly displaying flag posters of famous people with connections to the area on every block on both sides of the street. I saw the poster of Mark Twain/Samuel Clemens and studied it. Hmm, his family came from County Antrim. I'd later look it up to find out that Mark Twain had Ulster roots on both his paternal and maternal sides. His father's family came from the aristocratic Clements (or 'Clemence') family on Clements Hills between Straid and Ballynure. Hmm.

What we didn't do was visit the Bushmill's Distillery for a whiskey tasting. Every time we had taken a cycle trip with a company, we had either had a wine tasting, and/or olive oil tasting, or a whiskey tasting. I quickly found that even a thimbleful of whiskey would just ruin my day, and I learned to drink the chaser instead of the alcohol at the events.

As we were returning to the hotel, tour buses were starting to park in the hotel lot. Ah, there they were. I had read online that sometimes the hotel is filled to the max with tour groups. There were some small golfing tour groups in the hotel during our stay, but for the most part, the hotel's common rooms had not been packed. The receptionist told us that from here on in, her life would indeed get ugly. We were sure her behaviour would never be ugly--this is a lovely staff. We got our bags, headed out the door, and caught the 402 bus to Coleraine.

Next: Train to Derry and Our First Night in Town

P_M and bdokeefe--Thanks for the encouragement. I also have to remind myself that even the tedious writing bits can help me relive so much of the trip's sheer joy.

Train to Derry and Our First Night in Town
 

So here's a BIG TIP which I made sure I followed: on the train from Coleraine to Derry, sit on the right side and pay careful attention. You are embarking on what is often be labelled as one of the most beautiful train journeys in the world. Leaving Coleraine, train runs alongside the River Bann. You near Mountsandel Wood, the earliest known settlement of man in Ireland dating to between 7600 and 7900 BC. Coming up is a golf course, The Castlerock, and the small John Lanyon-designed station of Castlerock, dating from 1875. You will through two amazing tunnels, Castlerock and Downhill, the longest railway tunnels in Ireland, blasted out in 1845 and finished by 1853.

I had considered stopping in Castlerock to walk to the Mussendon Temple. The walk would not have been hard, but as always, I would have been unsure of the weather. We soon came upon Benone Strand, a stretch of gorgeous unspoilt beach. On the other side of the train, one can see the cliffs of Downhill and Binevenagh Mountain.

I was going crazy looking at all the shore birds. I could have spent a month on that beach with my binoculars.

Finally the stretch of water alongside narrowed as we followed the River Foyle to Derry. I had been told that the transit from the Derry Station by bus to Derry proper would be simple, but ever the worrier... Oh, my goodness, it was a snap. We exited the station and there was the shuttle bus waiting for us. We climbed aboard for the short trip across the river to the bus centre, whose location we'd need to know for our bus trip onwards to Belfast. We both consulted our Google maps to map out our route to The Bishop's Gate Hotel, and we ventured forth.

Yep it was short, about 0.8 km or 1/2 mile. It was, unfortunately, a very steep short walk. Dragging my luggage, I just kept thinking in my agony, "I get a beer. I get a beer. I get a beer." When we managed to get to the reception desk, the receptionist said, "Your room won't be ready for another 1/2 hour. Would you like to wait in the bar?" Lead us forth!

And wonder of wonder, we would have our first sip of one of our favorite beers of the trip, the 26 Pale Ale made by Londonderry Northbound Brewery. The name comes from the Master Brewer’s measurement of bitterness. "26" is indeed our number, and to get that taste with an ABV of a mere 5% is a wonder. The brewer used New Zealand hops, which puzzled us, but then I would read that he and his wife had spent a lot of time in Australia, and it made a bit more sense. WELL DONE!

Darn, our room was ready. We were shown into...our junior suite. Uh-oh, I had forgotten to tell my husband why we were living so large. Well, there IS an explanation. I must have read a zillion hotel reviews in preparing for this trip. And many of the ones for (London)Derry stated that if the temperature went up, one had to open windows because AC wasn't on offer, and the ensuing problem would be that departing crowds from Derry nightlife and hotel events could present quite a problem. So after consulting with various hotels, I found a room with AC. We didn't use the AC, but we would find later that this specific room was more or less protected from a lot of noise when we opened the windows. In the meantime, my husband had a room and a closet in which to spread out all of his stuff and I had a room and a closet to spread out all of mine. Even better, the one bathroom (you didn't think I'd get two again, did you?) was perfect for doing a spot of laundry.

Next: Train to Derry and Our First Night in Town cont'd

I should have posted two videos that helped me plan for this Causeway part of our trip:

This an old Seat 61 video that explains getting the train in Belfast, getting to the bus station in Coleraine, and shows you some of the gorgeous Causeway scenery. A reminder: We never had to buy any bus or train ticket. Our iLink smartcard was our ticket for a week.

This is a clever video that shows all that two young men did with a ONE-DAY iLink card. It shows the part of the trip from Coleraine to Derry, too.

thursdays--Well now I have to do Lyme Regis!

WATER MOCCASINS!!!! That must have been super scary.

I never golfed (well, I tried once but realized that a club and I would never be friends), but whenever we would travel out west before we had the kids, I'd make sure to find some top-ranked course nearby and schedule my husband for a tee time, knowing for sure there would only be 18 holes involved of for the day :). Then I'd walk near the course with guide book and binoculars to watch local birds. A lot of great golf courses are situated on migration flyways, and the varied habitat of a good golf course is ideal for seeing a variety of birds. So both of us would go home happy.

Derry ..Our First Night in Town cont'd
 

I had not made dinner reservations for (London)Derry. I had no idea when we'd arrive, and we'd already done our fair share of eating well for the trip. I checked a couple of websites, read the rave reviews for Quaywest Wine Bar & Restaurant, and snagged an early seating. Uh, the place was not as we had been led to believe. The menu had a lot of junk food items, so our hopes for something healthy seemed to be dashed. However, when I remarked to our very sweet server that I might have to get creative to get my full day's worth of vitamins, she said, "Let's see what we can do!" And sure enough, lickedy-split, we had two quite decent meals for an appealing price. Our fish was perfectly cooked, nothing was too salty, etc. We were happy.

We returned via Tesco's, stopping to buy bananas and six bottles of water for ourselves. We made sure we found Peadar O’Donnell’s, one of the bars I thought would be the highlight of our trip from all the rave reviews, on our way back to the room because it would be our next stop.

I knew on weekends Peadar O’Donnell’s offered trad even in earlier evening hours, and I wanted a seat. We were able to snag two seats at the bar at a good spot, and we could at least see and hear the entertainer, who did a mixture of music. The problem was, he really wasn't that good. And the crowd started getting a bit strange. I had a creepy guy in his 30s hanging on the back of me (I elbowed him and he backed off). Geesh, I'm over 65, buddy. Then the bar ran out of clean glasses. Next, drinks were spilled off a table and after a nice young man came to clean it up with a mop, he then handed THE DRIPPING MOP over the bar. Dirty water covered the area where they were pushing out drinks, and the drippings were merely swiped with a dirty rag. Uggg.

Still, we held on to our stools (but ordered NO more beers) to wait until the trad group came on. They finally did, but we could not hear them. No one had miked these guys correctly, and in addition, my creepy guy was now in an argument with some of his "friends" and instead of music, we were hearing "f--ing this" and "f--ing that" and a few other choice words. It was getting pretty uncomfortable. We were out of there.

As we walked back to our hotel, we passed bar after bar with heavy security. Heck, even the security guys seemed creepy. We were happy to get near our hotel where we saw disco lights blinking out on the first floor. It was a wedding reception in full swing. Expecting that we would not sleep, we decided to visit the reception. How wonderful! Everyone was on the floor dancing and singing. We pulled up two chairs outside the door to watch, enjoying every second. The last song was "Summer Nights" from Grease. All the remaining guests were on their feet, swaying in a circle to the music, singing their hearts out. We gave them an ovation.

Note to self: Tell youngest daughter about the perfect way to end a wedding.

So we expected we'd hear the aftermath of the reception from our room. Nope, my research proved to be correct. Not only did we not hear any wedding vibrations but we also, with windows opened, never heard a peep from local drunks.

Next: Getting an Education in Derry

Thanks for the Lyme Regis info. As to Scottish dancing, my daughter's wedding will be replacing that type with full-on salsa dancing. My husband is NOT going to be thrilled about our upcoming salsa lessons.

Reading Before Our Trip
 

Before I talk about our educational day in Derry, I should post the books I read before our departure.

I like reading lots of fiction set in areas I'm going to visit. Last year, before we went to Cornwall, I spent months reading the entire Wycliffe and Poldark series plus a ton of other fiction and non-fiction books. When we were in Dublin, I read all of the Morgan Llywelyn's books about the Irish Rebellion over our week's stay. For this trip, I read quite a few novels set in Northern Ireland.

First, I had already started reading Stuart Neville's crime fiction years ago. I re-read some of them and finished the series. He's a really good crime writer who also manages to inform the reader of NI's political woes. Second, I followed a friend's recommendation to start reading Bernard MacLaverty's hearbreaking Cal. MacLaverty is a brilliant writer, and I quickly read his Grace Notes, too. I'll be reading more of him. What elegant prose. I enjoyed The Watch House by Bernie McGill, which is set on Rathlin Island. After the Lockout by Darran McCann impressed and depressed me. Lucy Caldwell's debut novel, Where They Were Missed, was excellent.

I'm sure I read a few more, but I'm hoping this listing gives others a starting list from which to work.

Getting an Education in Derry: My Husband Is Forced to Learn English History
 

I had made a "hit list" before starting the trip of things I wanted to do in Derry in one day, all of which was based on getting up at a reasonable hour. Our dark and practically soundproof room meant that we slept in. Already, our "grade" in self-education would be in deficit points. Oh well, we'd have to prioritize. We knew that the MOST important thing to do in Derry would be to take a Walls Tour, and City Walking Tours had made that so easy. One just met at the Tourist Information Center at 10am,12noon,2pm or 4pm any day for 4 pounds per person. We settled on the 12 pm time, which would allow us time to visit the nearby Siege Museum first.

So you might think I enjoyed the Siege Museum because I am a Presbyterian and as, I've just discovered in recent years, I'm Scots-Irish. Nope. My husband and I both enjoyed it and consider it to be a must for tourists because we've never learned the Ulster Plantation history. Seriously.

As Americans who spent our early adult years throughout the 70s and 80s, we knew a lot about the Troubles, the IRA, the UVF, Bloody Sunday, etc. Unlike our parents, we spent a lot of time in bars, and a heck of a lot of our bars were Irish American and Irish bars. But while I did know that my great uncle (by marriage) Charlie, who came from somewhere in Northern Ireland around 1900, would disappear to Toronto once a year for the Orange Parade, I never understood what in the heck that parade was or why he was going there. For my father's family, it was none of their business what he was up to. They had come to the US from two industrialized areas of England and were busy with the here and now. As teetotaler Methodists, they considered Uncle Charlie's adventures in Toronto as something related to his need to escape my Aunt Sarah's eyes to imbibe at will. They may have been right.

Yeah, I knew some of the Scots Presbyterian heritage, but that was totally accidental. My parents would take us to the local Scottish Highland Games once a year because as musicians, they enjoyed the fiddle competitions and the good pipe bands. My parents made no reference to any Ulster heritage. Heck, for some reason I knew about the Battle of Culloden because my father, with no Scots blood that I know of, was fascinated by it and its impact on history. There was never a mention of "The Apprentice Boys".

So the story of how Derry came to be known as "Londonderry" because of London business investment in building the town and its barricades was totally new to me. But I had quite a task ahead of me. I had a pretty decent understanding of the order of the kings and queens of England, etc; my husband had zero. Hence, I had to give him a pretty darn quick background, taking him basically from the reign of Henry the VIII to Bloody Mary to Elizabeth I to James VI/I, to Charles I. I then explained the three English Civil Wars, outlining the execution of Charles, the exile of "Bonnie Prince Charlie", the years of Cromwells, the Restoration, etc. I tried to present the impact of Anglicanism, Calvinism, Catholicism upon the throne. I explained how the "Divine Right of Kings" was used as a negotiating tool by James I and a destructive instrument by Charles I to his own end.

So if you are from the UK, you actually might be thinking, "Wow, she knows a lot for a stupid American." You would be wrong. Well, the "stupid" part you may have down. I have so little knowledge of the Jacobean era that it's ridiculous. I can tell you more about Victoria's Prime Ministers or the The Corn Laws than I can about James the II. Absolutely zero.

So we went to the Siege Museum and I had to get myself up to speed quickly. For Americans who know nothing, I'm going to present my take on the situation (and for those from the UK, please remember that I know that I know nothing):

After Charles I, the concept of "The Divine Right of Kings" went into the dust bin. Most people in various seats of power could see that enforced religion would not be a winning theme of a reign. James II totally misread the political climate. He figured that since he was "invited" to take the throne, he could return to policies of old. And he decided that he could wave a magic wand and make all of Scotland, Wales, England and Ireland Catholic again. Yeah, that was going to work.

So there they are in the 1680s in Ulster. For years, the Plantation had been importing a heck of a lot of a variety of Protestants, a lot of people who already have grievances against the Crown. Then this new guy, James II, decides overnight that they have to be Catholics, and someone fans the flames with a forged letter more or less hinting all Protestants are going to be wiped off the face of Ireland's ground. Thirteen apprentices take it upon themselves to close the city gates.

Legend begins. The Siege Museum presents all of that in detail, through three floors of film and exhibits. Plus they have elevators and clean restrooms!

And to keep you hanging, the end of the story means that we Americans end up with a lovely university, William and Mary.

Next: Getting an Education in Derry: City Walking Tours

Those who like trains may be interested in this YouTube site (not sure where I heard about it).

http://allthestations.co.uk/

That link is for Northern Ireland, this is the link for the mainland trip:

http://allthestations.co.uk/ats2017/

Getting an Education in Derry: City Walking Tours
 

Leaving the Siege Museum, we hastened to make our way down to Carlisle Road to the noon City Walking Tours. Our particular tour guide, John McNulty, gets rave reviews on Trip Advisor, and so he should. His voice and his message were loud and clear in his one-hour walk: people need to know and understand, yet move beyond, their histories.

John covered the the reason for the prefix London in Londonderry and would return to the name later on in his spiel. We ascended the steps of the city walls (Derry is Ireland's only completely walled city) and soon stepped back in time. He explained the concept of Protestant "siege mentality" and how that focus on one part of history would narrow not only Derry but also Northern Ireland's ability to adapt to circumstances. As we walked and walked and walked, he displayed a local knowledge of both the Protestant and Catholic reasons to be proud of their city and their reasons on both sides to hang their heads in shame. His love for the city was quite apparent, yet his regard for justice was equally on view. He reminded us not only of how Irish civil rights fighters were imprisoned and poorly treated but also how poor young soldiers from England, 800 of them, died in a strife where they had no personal gain. He kept emphasizing that only the innocent suffer when pigheaded leaders work in their own selfish, narrow interests. "Civil rights justly began a much needed battle but soon the rights of all were compromised for 30 years by people who were merely hungry for power and violence." The depiction of the Troubles painted by my Northern Irish Catholic friends with whom I had worked consecutive summers in New Jersey in my youth matched the guide's portrayal to a "T".

He encouraged us all to walk through Bogside to get a feel for how the residents looked at the hill that dominated their lives. Our guide was very, very clear about the tragedy of Bloody Sunday and how many decades it took for the UK to recognize its travesty of justice. All my husband and I could think about was Kent State shootings during the Vietnam era, where the students who were killed were NOT protesters; most were innocents trying to make their way to their class--and our government has still refused to do a full-scale investigation of the matter. My husband and I, stalwart Republicans at the time who really had not questioned our involvement in Vietnam, were suddenly moved to question our values and the Vietnam War by this Ohio event. In other words, our guide's words were resonating loud and clear to our own experiences now.

Our guide bravely brought up the recent death of Lyra McKee (this wiki article link still has a few facts wrong). He said that for that dear young woman's sake, he hoped that once again, there would be hands across the Peace Bridge. Wow. Wipe away the tears time. We all applauded.

After leaving John McNulty with profuse thanks and a strong tip, we headed back to the hotel for a quick beer (N 26 for sure) and then did a quick passage through the nearby cathedral and the Presbyterian church, an old monastery. The temporary and extensive photographic displays in the cathedral were interesting, but we enjoyed the little Presby church more. The we hurried down the hill (OMG, I swear going down hurt more than coming up) to the Guildhall. If the Siege Museum had emphasized the siege and the "Never Surrender" theme, the Guildhall exhibits did a really great job of teaching more about the Ulster Plantation, and soon, my husband and I were looking at it through the filter of our knowledge of Jamestown, Virginia. Graphics and displays showed in clear detail that the English plans to colonize got things a bit wrong from the get-go. Instead of replacing Irish citizens with a transplanted culture, which was their stated goal, they basically imported a lot of dissatisfied English and Scots who then had to hire the displaced and dissatisfied locals because they needed a work force. Not a great plan. The exhibits in the Guildhall were fabulous, and we liked checking out the local government chamber. Pretty darn cool.

Next: Brews, Brews and A Meal plus a Trip Through the Bogside

My one visit to NI, in the mid-late sixties, I was taking round questionnaires as part of a research project. I forget how many people we interviewed but it was three or four towns, and we encountered one, solitary, top dog Catholic. And we heard some pretty depressing stories about discrimination. I was not at all surprised when the Troubles started, but...

Yep, just in terms of potential land ownership, mind you, there were so many limitations placed just upon one's religion. And this was in the 20th century. Boggles the mind.

As I implied before, the NI kids we were working with in NJ in the 70s were good solid kids who were unemployable back home. The various New Jersey business owners would overhire in late spring/early summer so that they could fire away as the lazybones in the workforce appeared. Skip a shift in June? Out the door. I had five co-workers fired in one week. None of my group and none of the NI group that I knew of were ever fired. We and the NI kids were all were rehired before the end of the season, and we were all told to bring our younger relatives for the next season's workforce. We lower middle class Americans thought we really needed the cash; in retrospect, we had no idea of the impact those earned dollars would have had on the NI kids.

We thought we knew...we just did not.

Pints, a Brewery, A Great Meal plus a Trip Through the Bogside
 

After leaving the Guildhall, we felt parched and searched for a nearby pub. The Blackbird near the bus center looked good from some of the reviews and we headed there. It was very pleasant--and clean! We sat near the stage, so we have a great view of the entering "hen" parties. My husband was puzzled by them, asking if we had those in the US. "Yep, just not at bars we visit, and we call them 'bachelorette'". The singer on stage was quite good, and he seemed to get a kick out of all the various groups in the pub.

Now I wanted to make sure we got in a drink and some bites at Walled City Brewery, which was across the Peace Bridge. When I told my husband that they were supposed to have this amazing IPA, my husband said, "Well, it's hard to believe it could be much better than what we've been drinking." Off we went. Darn, the place was entirely booked with an event, but the hostess said, "I think we should find a way for you to have one drink to fuel your walk back across the bridge." One of the servers came over, asked what type of beer we liked, and grinned ear to ear, replying, "I have a treat for you." When our pints of Stitch came (IPA--5% ABV), he waited for us to taste it. We sipped and turned to him, both of us exclaiming, "This is the perfect IPA for us." My husband told him he wished he could take this back to our local breweries to say, "Duplicate this." The hostess told me that an underrated place across the Peace Bridge was The Primrose. So back we went.

The Primrose was as good as she had explained, if not better. We think we had one of the better meals of the trip here. After we left, we decided to return to the hotel by a big detour--we'd walk through Bogside. We spent 30 minutes looking at murals and absorbing what we saw in silence. When we started the climb uphill to the Walls, my husband said, "Brexit is going to blow this place apart." I nodded silently.

Back at the hotel room, as we readied for bed, I fired up my iPad to start reading about what we had observed over the past 24 hours. Three articles jumped out at me:

1) A 2019 article by Peter Millar describing the history, his experiences and viewpoint of The Troubles
1) A 2000 article about entrepreneur Garvan O’Doherty, the owner of Peadar O'Donnell's who had invested in the wreckage of Derry to build quite an empire.
2) A 2018 editorial by Garven O'Doherty warning about the price of conflict

Next: Off to Belfast!

Off to Belfast!
 

We took our time checking out of our hotel the next morning. The bus we needed to take to Belfast, the 212, would leave every 1/2 hour, and we could not check in to our Belfast accomodations until 2 pm anyway. We could roll our bags down the hill to the Buscentre at leisure. The Bishop's Gate Hotel breakfast was far from the superb ones we had enjoyed at The Greenbank in Cornwall and Bushmill's Inn in Bushmill, but the breakfast room was pleasant, the servers were sweet, and plenty of coffee was on offer.

The 212 from the Buscentre in Derry takes two hours to reach Belfast's Europa Buscentre. Once there, lots of bus lines could get us to Queen's Square, the stop closest to the Obel Tower, where I had rented an apartment for five nights. We stored our luggage underneath the bus, joining the bags of all the college students returning to Belfast for their studies, and off we went.

By the way, the alternative would have been to retrace our train route from Coleraine and then back to Belfast. That routing would have taken 1/2 hour longer but would have been more pleasant. I had offered that alternative to my husband, but he said that by the time one got the luggage onto the shuttle and then off the shuttle and then onto the train, it was a lot of lugging for the day. I agreed. In retrospect, I would have loved seeing that stretch between Londonderry and Coleraine once again, no matter how long it took.

Nevertheless, our transport went smoothly, and by the time we reached the Obel Tower from Queen's Square, the apartment owner had just come down to the tower door. After the owner's review of how the apartment worked, we packed up our daypacks and went out the door. We knew the Dirty Onion would be having trad that afternoon!

Little did we know that we had arrived just in time for the...Pooch Social. The Dirty Onion holds one three times of year, and the place is well suited for it. Situated in a 1680 building, this bar/restaurant complex has two bars, one restaurant and one of the biggest beer gardens in Belfast. Dogs filled every nook and cranny of the place except for the rotisserie chicken restaurant on the top floor. No exaggeration--there were at least 100 dogs in the place, all of whom were being served by a "biscuit maid" handing out imprinted dog bones.

We found a table near the trad musicians, settled in with some brews, and petted dogs at will. We had fun with the young owner of a Jack Russell, kidding him that he would now be able to marry a nagging wife since he could up with so much grief from his dog (our oldest daughter owns a Jack Russell, and while we love her dog, it's an acquired taste). Eventually, we drifted upstairs to the Yardbird, the rotisserie chicken restaurant. The food was good, and we were content.

Where to next? I consulted my notes about Sunday trad. "Let's head to Maddens or Kellys" Since Madden's was the furthest bar, we headed there first, thinking we'd work our way back. We didn't hear any music coming out of it (we'd later learn we should have reported upstairs) and there did not seem to be that many people inside, so we ventured back a few steps to Kelly's Cellars. Not only were they doing a brisk business in their beer garden, but we could hear music pouring out. Sure enough, a group playing popular tunes and trad had the regulars in fine form.

We managed to grab two stools at the bar, and soon my husband was in full conversation with the man on his left while I was having fun with the couple on my right. Now THIS was the Ireland of our past trips. Both of us, by the way, would report to each other later that as soon as we said, "We've just come from Derry", the conversational floodgates had dramatically opened. And the viewpoints were heard were dramatically different. The man talking to my husband was about ten years older than the couple on my right, and their attitudes apparently reflected the age gap. And my husband's mate was intensely interested in American politics; I certainly had no wish to discuss them! The couple and I had a great time talking about which movies, songs, etc they enjoyed. After hearing that we had spent a week in Dublin doing nothing but trad, the husband said, "You really should be going down to The Points on Dublin Rd." I looked it up on my phone right then and there. Noted!

It was time to report back to the Dirty Onion for the NEXT trad session. This time, we had a couch position. After two hours, we were ready to roll home.

When we got back to the apartment, we decided that it was not that nice for us. Oh, it was spacious. Goodness, it had two small bedrooms, two small bathrooms, and even a W/D. But there was a faint musty smell to the place, mostly due to the fact that there was no central HVAC and no possible cross ventilation. It had a GREAT VIEW of the River Lagan and the Titanic complex. But it also had a view--and the din--of the busy motorway heading to George Best and beyond. We decided I'd research alternatives the next day. Time for sleep!

Next: Exploring Belfast

Have you watched Derry Girls on Netflix? It is a comedy but not. I have not been but now on my list. Thank you for all the detail.

We stayed in 3 nights in Derry 2 years ago. As you said, definitely a history lesson before you. One day we did the Bogside walking tour, visited the Museum of Free Derry, then there was a Bobby Sands documentary on TV that night we watched. A lot to digest.

Last year at the Milwaukee Irish Fest, they had one of the Bogside artists give a presentation. All the various murals were on large displays with descriptions of what was going on, and who was who in the painting. Very interesting, was able to chat a bit afterwards.

Alessandra- again, thanks for the write-up, still following along.

Derry Girls is very entertaining...season 2 should be coming out soon, I think.

Thanks Macross and bdokeefe for the encouragement. My girls watch Derry Girls. I have not but I shall.

Planning the Rest of Our Stay in Belfast; Trad Be Us
 

We awoke to a glorious morning over the River Lagan, and we got to watch ships and boats entering the harbor near Titanic Belfast. Beautiful. Unfortunately, the apartment was so stuffy that we had to open every possible window to the noise of the "Indy 500" below us.

We were NOT moving fast. We reviewed the day/night before to realize that we had spent 9+ hours in bars. Granted, I had been drinking tons of water for four of those hours and biding my time over any beers when not downing H20, but my body was certainly exclaiming, "Tsk, Tsk." What the heck, I am 65+ and my husband is 74+, so what in the world are we doing?

Having fun.

First order of business, we had to buy better coffee than we were imbibing. I made up a quick grocery list. Then, while we were still trying to get a grasp on the day, we started getting a grasp on the rest of our days in Belfast. It was a Monday; we were leaving at dawn Friday. We created a list of priorities and "should we?" things.

For example:

• Did we need to top off our iLInk cards? Were we going to do any day trips outside the city?
• What would be our furthest possible adventure?
• Should we be booking a Black Taxi Tour? Could we take any more assault on our hearts?
• What would be our alternatives?
• When would we visit Belfast Titanic, which was glowing out our window?
• Should I spend some time mapping out my one pretty darn clear Ulster Presby line? I had good data.
• Egads, this view was amazing but the noise was deafening. Could we find a hotel at this late date?

We regrouped and decided.

• First thing was that we came to Belfast for TRAD. We wanted to hear what the city had on offer compared to Dublin or Galway or Doolin. Yeah, that was a tough order, but we were up to it. I quickly sketched out the possibilities for our remaining days, even buying tickets for our last night.
• Second, we were really worried about leaving in time early am Friday for George Best. If we did not make that flight, we would not make our return to the US from Heathrow, too. I would feel better if we moved to a hotel with wake-up service, ventilation, etc. I found a decent price for a stay at the Europa Hotel for our last two nights, a reservation that we could cancel.
• Third, we had to buy some immediate supplies for this apartment and do some laundry while we were here.
• Fourth, let's 86 the Black Taxi idea and any top-off of our transport pass. Let's book a Hop On Hop Off Tour plus discounted Belfast Titantic admission. We would do point-to-point for anything else.

We put in one load of laundry with the sole tab of detergent left in the place and headed out to the local Lidl on High Street to buy things that would sustain us in the apartment.

Next: Planning the Rest of Our Stay cont'd; Deciphering Stops of the HO-HO; More Trad

Planning the Rest of Our Stay cont'd; Deciphering Stops of the HO-HO; More Trad
 

We bought some basics at the nearest Lidl, a grocery store we had never experienced in our trips to Ireland. It covered our basics just fine: ground coffee, bananas, apples, nuts, paper towels, tissues and laundry detergent. We always carry tote bags on our trips, and it felt good that we could write our kids, "No plastic today!", since they accuse our generation of destroying the planet. On the way back to the apartment, we got a good look at places we'd like to explore in a few hours.

Back at the apartment, we could finally close the windows. The sun had moved off and we could settle in to enjoy the view while we did our "homework" on our iPads. I purchased the Hop-On/Hop-Off tix for 48 hrs plus Titantic Belfast admission. We'd do the bus tomorrow; we were undecided when we'd do the Titanic. The chat portion of the ticket office said our phones would work as the bus admission; they could print out the Titantic admission at the first stop only. So that was going to be our next mission: locate that first stop (we had received two different instructions).

And we were getting hungry. Where should we eat? Our apartment owner had recommended nearby McHugh's not only for trad but also for food. We'd check that out after we had determined tomorrow's bus stop. We started another load of laundry and off we went.

So the best determiner of the 1st HO HO stop is the Office store on High Street. No, it does not sell office supplies--it sells shoes. And from what we determined, half the time, trucks and other vehicles block the darn stop. Keep your eyes open. We snagged the HO HO at its last stop and picked up a leaflet/map. We explored a lot of the pedestrian zone while we were doing all this. Pretty cool. Belfast has a nice vibe.

Heading back towards the river, we stopped in McHugh's. We SHOULD have ordered boxties as the servers had recommended; instead, we had this insane desire for Irish stew. While waiting for our order, we had to listen to a self-absorbed American professor, who did not have kids and who did not want kids, tell two American parents with his total sense of self-importance how to deal with their college son. OMG. As servers kept waiting on them--I bet you the parents were paying for this guy's tab--our eyes were in such a constant roll that the servers were having great difficulty keeping a straight face. After they left and after we got our bill, my husband told our server that we had a dire complaint. As this kid steeled himself for the worst, my husband pronounced with a straight face, "There are just TOO many Americans in here." The server and the fellow workers overhearing us burst out laughing.

So we were just about ready to turn home when I said, "I'm STILL hungry". We decided to find the nearby Jumon, a Pan-Asian restaurant. The servers were fun and the food was equally fun. Filled to the brim, we returned home to plan our Monday evening. We had work to do:

Mission One: Trad at the Dirty Onion at 8pm
Mission Two: Trad at The Points at 10pm to hear the group Gan Teorainn

We better nap!

NEXT: Monday Night Trad

Our Monday Night Trad; our Tuesday Hop On/Hop Off
 

The nap did us well, and we woke up to a gorgeous view of the lowering sun's rays hitting the Belfast Titantic building. We walked over to the Dirty Onion, which we were starting to think of as "ground central" for us, and settled onto "our" couch to listen to the trad. Not that good--this was not the act that was on their website. One of the guys we had recognized from the night before seemed to be training the other musician. Oh well, we'd finish our beers and use "our" restrooms and head down to The Points, where the session would start at 10.

Our walk down Dublin Rd took around 20 minutes, so we arrived early enough to get a decent view of the performing area and grab some drinks before Gan Teorainn took the stage. We were not expecting much. Hah! We ended up being THRILLED. The trio did everything from traditional to David Gray's Babylon, and the bar patrons were there to listen, not chat, which was nice when the performers are that good.

We stayed around to almost midnight. We considered getting a taxi, but it was a fine night. Although the streets were pretty dark, we felt rather safe, and we made the mile walk home easily. The River Lagan and the purple-lit Belfast Titanic looked gorgeous, and we could not bear to close our drapes before falling asleep.

As one would expect, we were not all that perky the next day, but at least we had a plan: we were going to do the whole route of the Hop On/Hop Off, about an hour and 30 minutes, and then decide where we'd go afterwards. There was quite a line at the first stop, but we did manage to get on the bus. As we were told, the bus ticket agent scanned my phone receipt in and he was able to print out our tickets and the admission to the Titantic Belfast. We made sure we did not have to use it that day.

Our tour guide whose name I cannot remember did a good job, but as always, the problem with HO HOs is that other people think THEIR loud personal conversations are more important than that of the guide. Luckily, most of the chatty people got off near the Titantic, and we practically had the bus to ourselves. With so few guests, the guide felt he could answer a lot of our questions. As we neared Holywood, my husband's predictable question was "How close are we to Rory McIlroy's childhood home?" The guide knew--he had gone to school with Rory's father.

I was stunned by the violent paramilitary images in the Protestant murals nearby. Wow, I had been warned about it, but gee, seeing them for real reminded me of some really scary images in the USA in certain parts of the country. The guide saw my face and said, "It's a shock, isn't it?"

Back inside Belfast proper, we enjoyed passing Queen's University--it was so gorgeous. My husband and I thought we'd return to explore here.

Soon we entered the area of the "peace" walls--Fall's Rd (Catholic) and Shankhill Rd (Protestant) with the "no man's land" in between. We could see dozens of Black Taxis lined up along all the murals. Here is a link to 24 Belfast Murals You Need to See.

Soon the guide was asking us some questions. When he heard about our Belfast "purpose", he laughed. He told us where he thought we should go. "Some of my suggestions have good trad like the Points; others are just beautiful bars you should see."

Our final question at the last stop was "Where do we eat around here?" He said, "Report to the Morning Star!"

Getting to this place in Pottinger's Entry was fun--we had already been by there twice and had never noticed it! When we walked into the pub, we spotted a lunch buffet of glop that made our hearts sink, though. The waitress who greeted us said, "Don't worry. We have food even I'd eat on the menu." We laughed, ordered a Henrietta the Hen and a Maggie's Leap, both IPAs, and made our decisions for lunch. All in all, it was a good lunch.

We started to plan our afternoon. The Titantic was out unless we waited until near closing time when the crowds would lessen. We knew we wanted to tour City Hall. As we were making a new list for the rest of the day, I suddenly felt really ill. I just said, "I have to go back. Now" Seriously, I felt as though the pavement was coming up to meet me on the short walk home.

I spent the rest of the afternoon and evening languishing on the apartment couch, using a bedspread to help me survive the waves of chills I was experiencing. Even now, we still don't know if I had gotten food poisoning or what. We had eaten identical items since arriving in Belfast, and my husband was fine, so it will be a mystery. No matter what, I wasn't moving.

My husband eventually went to eat at Henry's Bar/ The Jailhouse in Joy's Entry, another cute passage. He enjoyed his meal and stayed for the music for about an hour, too.

He came home to find me alive. I told him that I slept, then woke up to look at the view, slept, then woke up to look at the view, etc. It was not a bad way to be ill, watching the sunset reflect off of the River Lagan and Titantic building. Yep, we were not going to leave this apartment. I quickly cancelled our hotel reservation.

Next: City Hall tour, Titantic Belfast, the Sunflower

City Hall, Europa Hotel, Presbys Be Me, The Crown
 

By the next morning, I was only barely recovering. I had downed gallons of water, found some leftover black tea in the apartment to sip instead of coffee, and started to feel better by around 9:30 am. But we did want to make the 11 am City Hall tour, so I "got it together" in minutes, hoping to hit the 11 am City Halls tour.

MAJOR HINT: These free City Hall tours fill up fast. We were at the desk by 10:02. All 11 AM entries gone. And the desk agent said, "I barely got here before they were gone." So we put our names down for the 2 pm tour. What to do? RESTROOMS first, no matter what. We found them, looked around all the area exhibits, and headed out.

I looked at some of my "to do" lists. Well, I wanted to see the most bombed hotel in all of Belfast, the Europa. The walk took us past the Grand Opera House, which looked of the period of Belfast expansion around the time of the Titantic, and then we arrived at the Europa. Hmm. It sort of looks like part bank, part Soviet Block architecture. But the bar was comfy, comfy. I thought, "Let's see the Crown Bar!" And we headed out...in the wrong direction.

We can tell you that there are parts of Belfast where the GPS directions just go nuts. I made my husband turn on his Verizon phone plan to coordinate with mine. But luckily...our wrong direction took us past the Presbyterian Church in Ireland in the Assembly Buildings. I stopped my husband. "This is it!--this is where I read that little old ladies might help track my family down."

So we rang the bell, were admitted and seated, and a sort of church lady librarian of old looked up databases of my Londonderry family (the ones who had left before 1819). Bad news: she got no further that I had gone. Good news: I had done DARN well in my research. She did look up and ask me, "Is there any chance your people were Anglican? " and when she saw the look on my face, "I mean Episcopalian or Church of England." I started laughing. "No way. None. This branch, both the father and the mother, headed straight for the Presbyterian community in the furthest reaches of their travels." And then I said, "You DO know that your religion did NOT identify with England during the American Revolution?". But when she seemed a bit disapproving, I told her, "My father's family were all-in English. Their idea of 'breaking out' was to be 'chapel', not 'church' ". She got it.

We had time for a quick lunch. We found The Crown! We could order lunch in a glorious snug! Fabulous. Our meal was good, and I felt great sitting in a gorgeous historic bar (it is part of the National Trust) featured in Bernard MacLaverty's "Grace Notes", a book I now treasure.

Next: City Hall Tour, Titantic Belfast

City Hall Tour, Titantic Belfast
 

The Titantic Belfast would knock our socks off; the City Hall tour was JUST as memorable to us.

We made our way back to City Hall for the 2 pm tour, and once we checked in with the desk with our names, we were given large tickets to hand to the tour guide. The tour started with a solid introduction by an excellent, vibrant speaker. His mix of incredible knowledge and intelligent humor made the 45-minute tour a delight. He presented facts without a hint of bias, and answered questions in the same tone--all with a good sense of mischief. Our tour crowd was fun. There were folks from all over the UK, a couple of people from New Zealand, some couples from Toronto, Canada, and some funny ladies from a retirement community in Florida. They were really into the tour, asking questions right and left. One of the final questions was, "How did you end up giving this tour?" And he said, "This isn't my day job. When they predict they'll have a lot of people, they ring me up and beg me to come." (Imagine big grin). Of course, what does he do? He's a genealogist!

One cannot tip him--it goes into the donations bucket near the desk--but you better believe I got his business contact information: Family Ulster | Genealogy Services - Northern Ireland | Genealogical Research | Family Tree Search | Family Records | Ancestral Tours | Belfast.

This guide closed his presentation in much the same way as did our HO-HO guide and our Derry Walls guide: Tell your folks back home that you came to Belfast (Derry) and didn't get shot. We are open for business."

So it was time. We used the City Hall restrooms (remember those, folks) again, and headed off towards "home" and the Titantic Belfast. This time, I stopped to examine the "Big Fish", a huge tiled salmon, because the HO-HO driver had said the individual tiles--pictures and articles from the past--were amazing. They were. Created as a monument to the return of the salmon after a huge clean-up, the fish not only represents Belfast's history but is a hallmark of what they hope to be its future. We crossed the River Lagan for the extensive walk to the Titantic Belfast. By the time we arrived, we were, of course, "parched", so we stopped in the center's bar where two young people were playing trad. We listened for a bit and then started chatting with them. We told them our plans for our last two nights, and they were totally on board.

We knew the crowds should be out of the way--it was about 1.5 hours before closing--so we had an expected great experience at Titantic Belfast. The building takes you from the Belfast of its time to the building of the Titantic to the sinking of the ship. There's a little ride, videos, actual furniture replications, you name it, to get the feel of the huge task it took to build and furnish the ship. One gets to feel the experience of some of the passengers and crew along the way. It was very effective. We knew our visit would not have been so great had we had to face the morning crowds.

Now we faced the long walk back, and while our evening plans would start decently early at 8 pm, we needed food. We hailed a taxi who was doing a drop-off, and we went straight to the Morning Star, where our beers, our food, and our servers were so very nice.

Next: The Sunflower

So glad you did the tour at city hall. I am only finding that my Derry kin were maybe Quaker. Could that be? I know when he left Ireland but no clue about religion. He fought in the war of 1812. I need to investigate your links. My other relatives came from Mayo and Carlow but this Derry one has me stumped.