Bel*RUN*fast

Belfast is the capital of Northern Ireland, and a city that has been long divided between Protestants and Catholics. Though in the past this has erupted in sectarian violence, since the Good Friday Accord, an uneasy peace reigns over the city. That being said, a climate of repressed hostility still exists and when crossing the city one is acutely aware that saying the wrong word, or a misinterpreted look, could result in assault or robbery. Or maybe this was because I was walking through the slums of Belfast trying to reach my hostel. At 10:30 at night. Carrying my 60 lb knapsack on my back and my money, passport and travelers' checks on me. Needless to say, I was a little bit jumpy.

To this day, I believe that the only reason I wasn't mugged was tht after my 10 hour trip, dressed in my raggedy windbreaker, wearing clothes that hadn't been pressed since I had left Montreal a week and a half before, and clutching a rather dogeared copy of "Let's go: Britain and Ireland" to my chest, I looked sufficiently pathetic that any potential muggers decided I wasn't worth the effort. It also helped that I only ran into five people on my walking trip, one of which was passed out, and two of the others which were engaged in a drug deal.

To arrive in Belfast, I had taken the bus from Edinburgh to the town of Stranraer, when I had taken a three hour ferry ride to Belfast. The ferry ride was enjoyable, except for the fact that the ferry was enclosed, so you couldn't really enjoy the salt air and the sea mist.

I spent the night at the hostel, and left at 10 the next morning on the bus to Dublin. Overall, there wasn't that much in Belfast that looked worthwhile, and I had seen most of it the previous night on my trek from the Docks through the majority of the city down to the hostel (which was on the complete other side of town).