Barbara J. Hamby

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Travel - Belfast, Ireland

The tour we took on Friday, August 26th, was titled, “Leisurely Belfast.” There was nothing leisurely about any of the excursions that week, in my opinion. The leisurely part of our trip was the last week when we cruised across the Atlantic from Scotland to New York.

Our tour guide had a heavy brogue, but I understood him better than some of the others. He started about every third sentence with “Sadly,” apologizing for the city’s history. In spite of lingering segregation and conflict, Belfast is struggling to become a tourist attraction. “Sadly,” the guide pointed out painted curbs in one area of town. Blue and red paint was used to indicate that Protestants lived on that block, if I understood him correctly. It wasn’t clear whether Catholics had unpainted curbs, or theirs were a different color.

The incredible Belfast Botanical Gardens bloomed in a riot of gold, red and blue inside and outside the greenhouses. We walked through a lovely park from the street where we left our bus, then strolled with dozens of other tourists through the greenhouses, lush with plants of all descriptions, some familiar, others not. Outside, large geometric flowerbeds provided striking palettes with all colors of the rainbow. The scent of marigolds prevailed, overpowering the more delicate fragrances.

It was tempting to linger in all that loveliness, but we were rushed back to the bus and on past the parliament building with its expansive lawns and walkways, to Belfast Castle. With a skill developed over years of traveling, I managed to be the first lady in the tiny bathroom I found after weaving through many rooms. It was probably a cloakroom when the castle was built. The line stretched down the long hall when I left there.

Like Dublin Castle, Belfast Castle was more modern than the old stone fortresses I had seen in other parts of Ireland. Its ornate stone and brick fireplaces, woodwork, and well-manicured grounds were impressive. The view from an upper story balcony stretched for miles. The weather was clear enough for a fairly good picture from that level.

Back on the ship, I rested and read after lunch. After dinner, I went to hear Kyle Esplin, a singer from Scotland. He was good, but his girlfriend, who sang several operatic numbers, stole the show. He didn’t seem to mind. Al went to see a “comedy” act, which he didn’t think was very funny, so he left early.

While we were at dinner, Golden Princess slipped her moorings and proceeded out of Belfast. After the pilot disembarked, the captain took Northerly courses toward Scotland.