We spent that evening just hanging out with Natalie, who shared what she knew about the conflict (her specialty) and the experience of living in "Norn." As always she had a lot of great insights. One that really stuck with me was that, apparently, a lot of Northern Irish nationalists have quieted down considerably since the economic crisis took root in Ireland, because if Northern Ireland were to join the Republic now, they wouldn't get the same economic benefits that the UK is able to give them, and they'd be dragged into Ireland's recession. I found it really ironic that people would back away from lifetimes of violence, intolerance, and bitterness not because of the horror of it but because of monetary concerns. In a way that idea seemed almost as sad as the fact of the violence itself.
But moving on to a more cheerful subject--namely, the legendary Giant's Causeway--I now bring you to Saturday, our bus tour day. There's nothing like spending a total of six hours staring out a window at the Irish landscape, with occasional chances to jump out and snap a few pictures of a ruined castle.
Really, though, the scenery was lovely, as it always is on this island. In the higher altitudes, there was even snow on the ground, which is about as common here as palm trees are in Minnesota. Anyway, Giant's Causeway, the fourth-greatest natural wonder of the UK, is several hours away from Belfast so we had to go all-out with the fancy coach bus, and the driver providing quirky commentary and bad jokes, and the periodic stops for sideshow pieces like the Bushmills Whiskey Distillery. We were given 25 minutes at said distillery, not enough time to actually take the tour, but enough to buy something at the gift shop and sample the product, which the driver turned us loose to do, with the warning that he would leave without us if we were late. So this experience ended up breaking down thus:
5 minutes: taking pictures of the outside
5 minutes: waiting in line for the bathroom
5 minutes: getting our whiskey (a first for me)
5 minutes: posing for photo-ops with our whiskey
And then, just as we were having our first sips, Emilie checked her watch....
Emilie: Guys, we have five minutes left!
Me: Oh no.
Jessie: Chug it! Chug it!
Me: I can’t!
(They all chug; I take a swig; it burns.)
Me: Oh my God.
(Claudia and Kelsie finish. I take another swig)
Me: Jesus Christ.
Claudia: You can do it!
Me: I’m doing it, I’m doing it, I have no choice!
(Jessie and Emilie finish. I take a longer swig.)
Me: Aghhhh!
(I finish. We run to the bus.)
With that milestone behind me, it was on to the main event. Giant's Causeway is one of those things that's really hard to describe. The best I could come up with was "a unique and awesome rock formation along the coast, formed by volcanic activity about a zillion years ago"...and that's not the least bit enlightening. Pictures may not be much better, but I'll throw a few out there just to cover all my bases.
The Causeway is the land-based equivalent of a constellation, in that it inspired the imaginative, or drugged-up, people of olden times to say to each other, "Hey, man, doesn't that group over there look like a [insert something it doesn't look like at all]?" and then create back-stories to go with the perceived shapes. According to popular legend, the Causeway was the handiwork of the mythical giant Finn McCool (a character who's gone through as many permutations as the spelling of his name; Fionn McCumhaill is to Finn McCool as Saint Nicholas is to Santa Claus). Hence, many of the more oddly-shaped rock clusters are named after things connected to Finn, like his boot (see above picture) and his grandmother. (Yes: his grandmother. Long story.)
Anyway, we had two hours to wander around, get our feet soaked through our shoes, and marvel at Finn's achievement. Not being one of those people who yearns to see the Grand Canyon before I die, I never thought I'd be as wowed by natural beauty as I have been on this island, but I honestly could've stayed there all day. Alas, we had to move on, because there was one more stop to make before we headed home.
Earlier, I'd grudgingly and grumblingly given in to peer pressure and purchased and overpriced ticket for what turned out to be the most memorable aspect of the day: the chance to cross...wait for it...a rope bridge. And I know you're thinking, as I was thinking, "Dude. Seriously? A rope bridge?" To which I can only respond: "Dude. Yes. Seriously." Because it was actually really cool. This particular rope bridge stretches across a 60-foot-long, 70-foot-deep chasm from the mainland to a dinky little island where fishermen used to set their nets for salmon; every day they'd cross the bridge to go collect their catch. Now tourists get to cross it to admire the breathtaking view. The actual act of crossing the bridge took about eight seconds, but it was worth it to get to see this.
So that was actually a highlight. Just goes to show: never judge a rope bridge by its price.
And then it was time to head back. By the way, our bus driver/guide spent most of the time making sly comments about KFC and his alleged mistresses, but early on he also slipped in a token earnest remark. Addressing the fact that, a few days previously, several policemen had been shot in (I think; it's been awhile now) Derry, he noted that these acts of violence are as repugnant to 99.9% of his fellow citizens as they are to us, and that "the sooner these people [i.e., terrorists of any persuasion] get off our backs, the better." He also said that we should feel safe and welcome, which was something we heard repeatedly that weekend, and something we did feel. (The KFC jokes helped.)
Before I wrap up this post, one more never-to-be-forgotten incident still needs to be recorded. When we finally got back to Belfast that night, our first thought was that we desperately needed to use the bathroom. So we ducked into a Burger King. I was the last to relieve myself, and while I was gone I left the plastic bag I'd been carrying around with me in Claudia's trusted hands. This bag contained, along other things, the muddy but precious rocks Kelsie and I had picked up at Giant's Causeway as souvenirs. When I came back, we left Burger King in search of real place to eat dinner, and about halfway down the block I remembered...
Me: Oh, I can take my bag back now.
Claudia: It's fine, I just put it in mine. And I threw away the trash. (By this she meant the bag-within-a-bag containing a few apple cores, banana peels, and...)
Me: You didn't throw away our rocks, did you?!
Claudia: What rocks?
Me: Our rocks from the Causeway! They were in that same little bag!
Claudia: All I saw was trash!
Me: Ahhh! Claudia!
Claudia: You didn't tell me there were rocks in there!
Me: Because I didn't think you were going to throw it away! Kelsie, our rocks are gone!
Kelsie: God damn it!!!
Claudia: How was I supposed to know!?
Kelsie: Wait, did you throw it away just now? At Burger King? Because that's right back there...
Me: All right, let's go back for them. You guys go ahead...
But Claudia insisted on coming along too, and she kindly fished the little bag with our rocks out of the Burger King rubbish bin (as they would call it here), although not without some understandable grumbling. Thus, we were reunited with our rocks and could proceed to dinner with light hearts. And on that uplifting note, I'll pause for now. To be continued, as always....
 |
| The rocks are cylindrical... |
 |
| ...most of the time... |
 |
| And there are tons of them. |
Anyway, we had two hours to wander around, get our feet soaked through our shoes, and marvel at Finn's achievement. Not being one of those people who yearns to see the Grand Canyon before I die, I never thought I'd be as wowed by natural beauty as I have been on this island, but I honestly could've stayed there all day. Alas, we had to move on, because there was one more stop to make before we headed home.
Earlier, I'd grudgingly and grumblingly given in to peer pressure and purchased and overpriced ticket for what turned out to be the most memorable aspect of the day: the chance to cross...wait for it...a rope bridge. And I know you're thinking, as I was thinking, "Dude. Seriously? A rope bridge?" To which I can only respond: "Dude. Yes. Seriously." Because it was actually really cool. This particular rope bridge stretches across a 60-foot-long, 70-foot-deep chasm from the mainland to a dinky little island where fishermen used to set their nets for salmon; every day they'd cross the bridge to go collect their catch. Now tourists get to cross it to admire the breathtaking view. The actual act of crossing the bridge took about eight seconds, but it was worth it to get to see this.
So that was actually a highlight. Just goes to show: never judge a rope bridge by its price.
And then it was time to head back. By the way, our bus driver/guide spent most of the time making sly comments about KFC and his alleged mistresses, but early on he also slipped in a token earnest remark. Addressing the fact that, a few days previously, several policemen had been shot in (I think; it's been awhile now) Derry, he noted that these acts of violence are as repugnant to 99.9% of his fellow citizens as they are to us, and that "the sooner these people [i.e., terrorists of any persuasion] get off our backs, the better." He also said that we should feel safe and welcome, which was something we heard repeatedly that weekend, and something we did feel. (The KFC jokes helped.)
Before I wrap up this post, one more never-to-be-forgotten incident still needs to be recorded. When we finally got back to Belfast that night, our first thought was that we desperately needed to use the bathroom. So we ducked into a Burger King. I was the last to relieve myself, and while I was gone I left the plastic bag I'd been carrying around with me in Claudia's trusted hands. This bag contained, along other things, the muddy but precious rocks Kelsie and I had picked up at Giant's Causeway as souvenirs. When I came back, we left Burger King in search of real place to eat dinner, and about halfway down the block I remembered...
Me: Oh, I can take my bag back now.
Claudia: It's fine, I just put it in mine. And I threw away the trash. (By this she meant the bag-within-a-bag containing a few apple cores, banana peels, and...)
Me: You didn't throw away our rocks, did you?!
Claudia: What rocks?
Me: Our rocks from the Causeway! They were in that same little bag!
Claudia: All I saw was trash!
Me: Ahhh! Claudia!
Claudia: You didn't tell me there were rocks in there!
Me: Because I didn't think you were going to throw it away! Kelsie, our rocks are gone!
Kelsie: God damn it!!!
Claudia: How was I supposed to know!?
Kelsie: Wait, did you throw it away just now? At Burger King? Because that's right back there...
Me: All right, let's go back for them. You guys go ahead...
But Claudia insisted on coming along too, and she kindly fished the little bag with our rocks out of the Burger King rubbish bin (as they would call it here), although not without some understandable grumbling. Thus, we were reunited with our rocks and could proceed to dinner with light hearts. And on that uplifting note, I'll pause for now. To be continued, as always....
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