Belfast

A One-Day Trip Out of the Blue. 

 

It all started out with a casual comment in passing from our director. “I am going to go to Belfast to meet some people. –You could come as well.” Really, it was more like an afterthought; I doubt the possibility of us actually agreeing even occurred to him. However, we did. In the end, only two people in my class did not go. 

But let’s rewind slightly: The show we are doing this term is a devised show, which means that the  in Belfast. This is all a part of the Troubles that technically has been going on in Northern Ireland for the last 500 years. Long story short, one part wants a unified Ireland, the other side wants to stay in the UK, and the conflict is not always peaceful. 

director chooses a topic/event, and we improvise all the content to create a play from scratch. What our director decided on was the 1981 hunger strike in Long Kesh prison (also known as the H Blocks)

As research, our director had planned a trip to Belfast to talk to some people, and so it was that, because of a simple suggestion, fourteen of us boarded an EasyJet flight 12.20 Sunday the 25^th of January. 

Officially, this couldn’t be defined as a class trip, as we had to pay for all of it ourselves. There was no way the university would have the money to get us there – not to mention they would never allow us. Travel was a full £96 counting busses and the flight, then there was the food on top of that. But while it definitely was a heavy blow to my economy, I am glad I went. 

Belfast is a very interesting, and truly, very beautiful city. It is smaller than you expect. Walking around a neighbourhood I

suddenly realised there were green hills in the background. The city centre is just like any other city, welcoming and vibrant in its own way. However, walk only a few minutes out, and a completely different atmosphere greets you. You suddenly realise the Troubles are not over, a tense undercurrent running like electricity under the very pavement, making the hair on your neck stand on end if you stop to look and listen.

 

Separating the two different factions is a high, long wall, called the Peace Wall. The gates leading

through close every day at five at which point children from either side gather to hurl abuse and whatever objects they have at hand at each other.
These are children that don’t even know each other. The top of the wall has been recently added on to make it harder to throw things over. The next picture shows the wall from the inside where the houses lining it all have mesh cages to protect them from petrol bombs.

Either side of the city is decorated with wall murals, honouring their people. It is hard to get your mind around. Within this tiny city, men are celebrated as freedom fighters on one side and as terrorists on the other. 

 

Saturday we were left to our own devices, exploring the city as we pleased. A few hours were spent    walking around with some of the lads in the class, we stopped by a small museum, and dinner was had at an extremely nice pub. A pint and a burger for £7? Yes please. The rest of the night the majority of the class went out drinking, whilst I stayed at the Hostel we were staying at with the rest,playing board games.

Monday we met up with our director at 9.30 outside a pub. Now came the reason we actually travelled here. Through some chain of contacts, our director had gotten a man to agree to meet us for a talk. The pub was opened just for our sake, and for two hours we listened to a middle-aged Irish man tell us details from the inside. 

To me, it still hasn’t quite sunk in how lucky (if you want to use that word) we were to meet this particular man. Not many in our position would get that privilege, and it is something that should not be discussed loudly in public places. 

Then it was all over. Monday evening we were back on a plane and returning to Southend.