City Streets and Sights

Yesterday afternoon a group of friends and I spent about six hours wandering around in central Belfast. It was brilliant, let me tell you. Now, it may sound strange, but the central thing to keep in mind is this: apparently, the Irish really know how to make (or, rather, remake) a city. For a place that didn't have any tourists for about 30 years, Belfast is remarkably tourist/foreign-student friendly. Many of the city's main sight-seeing opportunities are located near the main city center - about a 30 minute walk from my dorm building - but, to make matters even easier, every block seems to be outfitted with an information pole that includes a map of the surrounding area and shows you exactly where you are! A good thing, too... with all of the winding roads, sidestreets, and back alleys that connect the side streets, getting lost seemed like it was going to be a frequent occurrence.

Well, the first place worth noting in our ramblings about the city was a fabulous farmer's-market known as St. George's Marketplace. For those of you who go to Claremont, imagine the weekly Sunday morning farmer's market in the Village, just bigger, Irish, and even more awesome. Basically, St. George's was everything that I hoped Ireland as a whole would be; I'm not sure that I'd actually been truly happy here until I walked into that place. Of course, the food stalls and the crafts were amazing and everybody was really friendly, but nothing could top the music. Brilliant! There was a three piece Irish band (composed of a fiddler, a guitarist, and a pianist) playing in the middle of the market, and listening to them was one of the more wonderful things that I've done recently. It was actually pretty amazing; not only did they play traditional Irish songs - like "The Star of the County Down" and "The Irish Rover" - but they also covered some songs from well-known pop artists, notably "I'm Gonna Be 500 Miles" (originally by The Proclaimers, but also covered - brilliantly - by the Toy Dolls) and "Brown Eyed Girl" by Van Morrison! In short, the market is, as Austin Powers would say, definitely my bag, baby, and I wouldn't be surprised to find myself over there every week.

After leaving the market, we wandered along the River Lagan, one of the major Northern Irish rivers, which runs through central Belfast. Here's a little picture (not a very good one, sorry) of the river, as well as part of the industrial district (over on the left) and a couple riverside apartment buildings (on the right). Apparently, the apartments in there cost something like a million pounds apiece; have some fun and do the math and figure out how many dollars that is today.

More on the rest of the city sometime soon, but, in the mean time, how about a song for you?

"The Star of the County Down" (Traditional N. Irish Ballad)

Near Banbridge town, in the County Down
One morning in July
Down a boreen green came a sweet colleen
And she smiled as she passed me by.
She looked so sweet from her two white feet
To the sheen of her nut-brown hair
Such a coaxing elf, I'd to shake myself
To make sure I was standing there.

(Chorus)
From Bantry Bay up to Derry Quay
And from Galway to Dublin town
No maid I've seen like the sweet colleen
That I met in the County Down.

As she onward sped I shook my head
And I gazed with a feeling rare
And I said, says I, to a passerby
"Who's the maid with the nut-brown hair?"
He smiled at me, and with pride says he,
"That's the gem of Ireland's crown.
She's young Rosie McCann from the banks of the Bann
She's the star of the County Down."

(Chorus)

I've travelled a bit, but never was hit
Since my roving career began
But fair and square I surrendered there
To the charms of young Rose McCann.
I'd a heart to let and no tenant yet
Did I meet with in shawl or gown
But in she went and I asked no rent
From the star of the County Down.

(Chorus)

At the crossroads fair I'll be surely there
And I'll dress in my Sunday clothes
And I'll try sheep's eyes, and deludhering lies
On the heart of the nut-brown rose.
No pipe I'll smoke, no horse I'll yoke
Though with rust my plow turns brown
Till a smiling bride by my own fireside
Sits the star of the County Down.

(Chorus)