An American Werewolf In Belfast: Photojournal vol. 1

Howdy y'all,

My computer has arrived in the UK and now I can share some of the sights of an uncharacteristically sunny Belfast that I've seen in the last couple of weeks.

I just finished eating cheapo Chinese food (featuring French fries!) and watching Mean Girls with one of my house mates. Belfast has a huge Chinese population, so there are Chinese places every couple of miles. Ordering Chinese food in Ireland is a weird cultural experience - just the type of eye-opening event I'm sure the Bennington study abroad advisor had in mind when she helped me get here.

Also, now that I've played a foreign-coded DVD in my computer youtube videos don't have sound. Does anyone know why??? What did I screw up?

We've been going out the last couple of nights now that it's not just me and the international students in the empty student village. Last night was an epic pub crawl. Did you know the Irish enjoy drinking? Apparently they do. Also, Belfast stops serving alcohol at 1:00, which is absurdly early and prompts everyone to start their nights at around 7:00.

I met a little French girl on the floor of one of the clubs and we talked about settling into Belfast. I asked if she had any friends with her and she pointed to her American friend, Dave(!). He swaggered up to me in a polo shirt and camo shorts. "What's up, bra?" he inquired. "This place is for faggots, bra; they don't have any hip-hop. I went up to the DJ and asked her to play some and she didn't. I want those 'apple-bottom jeans! boots with the fur!' They didn't even know who the White Stripes were." The last assertion was proved false when "Fell in Love With a Girl" played later.
Embarrassing.

The girl who lives next to me is really into John McCain and left the room when I was talking about how angry I was that the Democrats are letting offshore drilling start up. The Irish, on the other hand, fucking hate him. "George Bush - he's a twat," asserted my friend Adrienne. "And Sarah Palin, she's farther right than Hitler," said Darrah, the politics and history major.

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Someone at the PDX airport remembers Lit

This guy loves cougars and it's not a crime

This is the face of the British movie star

In the first week the IFSA-Butler study abroad program paid for us to take a Black Cab tour around the city. Enter Pat, the cab driver.
Pat is a middle-aged man with a long mullet that's bleached and spiked in the front. Upon meeting us he encouraged us to look him up on Bebo. I pass that invitation on to you!.
He immediately drove us to the Protestant part of Belfast to show us the "world's best open-air art gallery." He was referring to Belfast's famous murals.

As he warmed to us his views on the Protestants became crystal clear: they are, on the whole, cowardly murderers. Fortunately, he said, he knew we were Catholics upon meeting us.
"How can you tell?" asked a girl.
"If I can put 'Saint' in front your name - that's how I know. Saint Patrick," he pointed to himself, "Saint David," pointing to me, "Saint Emma." He graciously skipped over Tia, the Jewish girl.
He turned and pointed to the little, white houses surrounding us. "Saint Neville," he said with disgust. "Saint William."

"This here was a member of the UFF who tried to put the bombings to a stop. At night the other members killed him in his sleep. This is not in remembrance - this is a trophy," he spat.

"So, is there still a lot of tension?" one of the American girls asked.

Despite what you may think, this picture is glorifying Oliver Cromwell

"This is the Mona Lisa of Belfast," Pat told us, referring to the fact that wherever you stood the gun pointed at you.

Cuchulainn risen from his sickness

The "trophy"

Pat in mid-lecture/rant. Us with our requisite looks of non-commital agreement.

Pat then took us to the nearby peace wall - concrete walls erected between Catholic and Protestant neighborhoods to deter fighting. There are gates that close between them at 6:00PM and don't open until the morning, meaning that miscreants have to travel hours out of their way to get from one neighborhood to another after dark. Along the top of the wall there is a high fence to keep people from throwing bricks.

Pat took out a permanent marker and had us sign it. "Everyone has to write something on the peace wall." I had absolutely nothing of substance to add to this symbol of political unrest, so I just wrote my name in surprisingly ugly letters.

At least ten of the other entries were John Lennon quotes and at least six were from Pink Floyd (guess which song!) plus these selected gems:

Gilbo from Australia has some advice for you, Ireland

Pat then took us to where Bono signed the wall, though he wouldn't show us exactly where. "I don't want one of yous coming back in the night and chippin' it off."