Bonfire night

Each year, on the 5th of November, England celebrates "bonfire night" to commemorate the failed attempt of the Catholic Guido "Guy" Fawkes to kill the protestant king by blowing up Parliament.  Despite it's grim origins, it's actually quite lovely because it's already winter, the days are short, the kids participate and it's about saving the monarchy, not about religious extremism.  (And for a lot of people, it isn't even about the monarchy, it's just a large campfire.)

In Northern Ireland, "the twelth" begins with a bonfire at midnight, and they "decorate" it with Irish flags with rude sayings written on them, which of course are the first things to burn.  I understand the Troubles were recent (the "Good Friday" accords were only 16 years ago) but they certainly make no effort to reconcile.  Parents took their small kids out at midnight, and everyone was drinking heavily.  That was what struck me the most: the people were rough.  They'd obviously led very hard lives, but compounded it with smoking and drinking and poor dental hygiene, and it was almost painful to look at.  Even the young women wore so much makeup, you couldn't tell what they looked like underneath, but they were all well on their way to emulating their parents.

I was in Antrim and the hotel receptionist suggested I go to Ballycraig, who were just in the news for hanging an effigy of Gerry Adams, a Catholic member of the NI parliament.  (I thought politics in the US were polemic!)  The bonfire was literally five stories high, made out of wooden pallets.  (Elsewhere they had bonfires made from car tires, and I can only imagine the stench that created.)  It took a while for the fire to get started, but pretty soon were were all sweltering and moving further and further away, as it was hotter than a blast furnace.  Unlike Guy Fawkes night, this did not feel like a "family event," or even a social event--it just felt like the Protestants were just doing this to harass their Catholic neighbors, much like a KKK rally in the south might feel.  I love bonfire night, but everything about that felt wrong.

I finally got to bed around 2am and set my alarm for 7am to ensure I was in Belfast early, because there were a lot of road closures planned starting at 9:30am.. Of course I overslept and didn't get into town until 9:30am.  At one junction I saw a large group of police, which made me feel better knowing they were out in force, but then I missed a turning and ended up having to circle around again only to find the police had now closed the road, and I was stranded.  That was the last time I saw any police.  They were obviously not there to control violence, only to contain it.

My sat nav didn't find another route and I arrived at the car park that I had looked up the day before, only to find there was no car park.  There was some street parking but the signs said 2 hours max, and I didn't want to have to worry about moving the car later.  Besides, on my phone I could see the car park was just across the street.  Except in the real world there was a wall between me and the car park, and the one-way streets put me in the parade route.

I am not kidding.  The police had not cordoned off the road, although obviously everybody else was smart enough not to drive down it!  I had no option, and there were people crossing the street and kids playing in the street and I hadn't seen mobs like that since the LA riots.  It was terrifying, and there was no place for me to go other than continue down the road at 5 mph for two miles.

I finally got off the route and found a parking space and staked out a place to take photos, but the parade was as grim as the night before.  There were thousands of men, marching without smiling or waving, all wearing orange sashes that said "LOL" on them.  That confused me a bit but it turns out it stood for "Loyal Orange Lodge," a Protestant fraternity.  The Grand Orange Lodge says on its website, "The annual Twelfth of July demonstrations are widely regarded as a major tourist attraction and the largest festival in Northern Ireland....an increasing number of international visitors are keen to experience the spectacle of the biggest day in the loyal orders' parading calendar."  Having been there, I can't believe that's actually true.  The only tourists I can imagine coming to see this are ignorant Americans, such as myself.

The spectators didn't appear to be having any more fun than the participants, apart from the fact that the spectators were all drinking heavily, and this was at 11 in the morning.  I grew weary and wandered off to see the city, but I didn't actually see much as everything was closed and the windows were shuttered. When I came back for my car around 2pm, the parade was over and it had now become a street party, and everyone was staggering around. I don't mind if young adults want to act so stupid, but again there were a lot of children there, playing in the streets that at this point were covered in broken bottles and sticky with alcohol.  I've been to a lot of parades in my life, and I've never seen people behave this disgracefully.  I was disgusted.

Safely back in my car, I started looking for anything that was open--besides the pubs--and was ultimately forced to go to the one place I did not want to go: The Titanic Museum.  I've been to Titanic exhibits before, and while it's vaguely interesting to see what was on the menu in 1912, it's hardly relevant to Belfast.  But I did go through the exhibit and I'm happy to say they don't have any menus.  Or any artifacts from the ship at all.  And the ship barely features in the exhibit -- once the structure was built, it was sent to Southampton for "fitting."  They just made a waterproof shell.

Having learned nothing -- except perhaps how to bend a steel girder -- I decided I'd had enough of Belfast and drove to Carrickfergus, a castle on the inlet leading to Belfast, which is described as "one of the best preserved medieval structures in Ireland."  It was closed.  Plus the parking lot was half a mile away and it was raining, so I just got some photos in the distance and carried on.  I drove to Gleno, which had a lovely little waterfall in a wooded glen just a few minutes off the road.  Then I drove around Islandmagee--which was a peninsula, not an island--and it was actually a sweet little area of farms.  It would certainly have been improved by better weather, but I still enjoyed the drive.

A quick (and unremarkable) dinner overlooking a golf course, and I was back in the hotel by 11pm, reading for an early day tomorrow which includes the Giant's Causeway, a rope bridge, about six castles and an evening in Derry.  I can't wait.