THE EMERALD ISLE

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For most of us travelling on the recent BRITISH HERITAGE/Lord Addison tour of Ireland, our visit began with our arrival in London the morning of 4th August, 2000, the Queen Mother’s 100th birthday. As I waited for my next flight, I watched the celebration on television and felt a little thrill to be seeing it on a "local" station.

A short flight on a spanking-new British Airways jet brought me to Belfast, a city I knew mostly through news coverage of fighting between and among Protestant and Catholic factions. But the city is hardly war-torn. Shoppers and office workers seemed happy and relaxed as they thronged the streets in the attractive city that is lately distinguished by its robust economy. I tried to make mental notes of what was where as my driver whisked me to the Europa Hotel–right next to the Royal Opera House and only a couple of blocks from the City Hall, the heart of Belfast–but that would come when I had a chance to walk around a bit. Our courier, Breandan, was in the lobby to greet me, and Alice from Massachusetts was there, too, so we had a chance to say hello. I met the rest of our group over dinner in the Europa dining room. One of the really nice things about the U.K. and Republic of Ireland is that hotel food is usually quite good and on a par with fine restaurants in the U.S. We did enjoy our dinner as we connected the names on our rosters to faces around the table, and we rapidly elevated the volume of chatter before calling it a day.

The next morning our smallish group (15 including courier and driver) boarded a smallish bus, ably piloted by Eamon, for a rolling tour of Belfast. We saw again the City Hall and learned that part of it was bombed during World War Two and later rebuilt. We also viewed the leaning Albert Tower and other significant historic sites, plus Samson and Goliath, the huge superstructures used for shipbuilding here–the Titanic and her sister ships were built in Belfast. I remember particularly our drive through the western neighbourhoods, with Protestant and Cath-olic sectors separated by a very tall wall to keep the peace.

Left to our own devices for the rest of the day, we found intriguing pubs for lunching, and some of us set off on a walk to see the art at the Ulster Museum, conveniently located in the Belfast Botanic Garden, which has a lovely glass house.

The next morning Eamon brought the bus around again, and we were soon on our way south to the Republic of Ireland, or Eire, heading toward Dublin. As we crossed the border at Newry we saw a tall military tower, a remnant of the time not so long ago when you had to stop here before proceeding into the Republic. Breandan told us that the military of peaceful Eire don’t have a lot to do, so soldiers escort armoured cars carrying funds among banks and businesses. We stopped at the site of the Battle of the Boyne–a bucolic river setting marked by a sign that is green on one side, orange on the other–and at Monasterbolce where we peered up into a 9th-century round tower and examined three fine tall crosses in a cemetery still used for new burials. We went much further into history–5,000 years–at Newgrange Tumulus where huge burial mounds have been recreated.

Dublin, with the lovely Wicklow Mountains as a backdrop, was a delight. Alice and Nancy came with me to see the National Gallery of Ireland and the Book of Kells at Trinity College, and Carol and Bill came along on my lowbrow quest to find the statue of a buxom Molly Malone, referred to by some as "the tart with the cart" or "the dish with the fish." Finding "the floozie in the Jacuzzi" was easier. This elegant, modern fountain featuring a reclining woman was practically across the street from our hotel. Eire and Ulster cities seem to have an unusual number of what I call "casual" statues–realistic figures talking together on a bench, standing on the sidewalk as if waiting for a friend–the kind you find yourself apologizing to if you accidentally brush against them.

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