Photo Essay: Belfast's Queen's Quarter

Home sweet hostel for my stay in Belfast was in quiet Queen's Quarter (and look what I just did there), a 15 minute walk south of the Europa Buscentre, the main transportation hub for the city. I found Belfast to be rather tranquil on the whole (though conflicts would break out in Western Belfast only days after my departure); nevertheless, I still appreciated the relative calm of Queen's Quarter after a day of traveling. For most of the day my empty room suggested that I had snagged a single by default, but I returned from a late dinner to find that I did indeed have a roommate for the night, an amiable American who was making her way out of the country just as I was beginning my adventure. Unfortunately for me, she'd be getting up by 6 am the following morning to get to the airport. Such is the hostel life.

Between my roommate stirring and the sun announcing its presence through the skylight in my bedroom, I found myself wide awake before 7 am, still more than an hour before breakfast. Solution? Spend an hour enjoying the architecture of Queen's University Belfast and the enchanting Botanical Gardens adjacent to the campus.

Great Walks: Giants Causeway Coast Way

Though tour buses from Belfast descend upon the Giant's Causeway in County Antrim, Northern Ireland every day, the causeway coast is best explored at a slower pace over the course of at least an overnight or two. Some of the best vignettes of the causeway coast can be seen from along the 16.5 kilometer (10+ mile) walk between the Giant's Causeway and the infamous Carrick-a-Rede rope bridge. Beyond the volcanic columns that sink into the cerulean sea there are miles of dramatic cliffs, white sand beaches, over-saturated fields of grazing sheep, and quiet fishing harbors to behold.

After landing in a bitter cold and rainy Dublin only 48 hours earlier (which had me reevaluating my decision to bring only two sweaters on my "summer" vacation), I woke up to flawless weather in County Antrim. When the sun shines in Ireland, the color palate is unbelievable; you feel as if you may have mistakenly wandered into a Photoshopped version of the world, one in which someone has cranked up the saturation beyond credibility.

But it is real life. For reals.

Lacing up the hiking boots that had carried me through the Himalayas last fall, I set off on my walk. Having visited the Giants Causeway the previous night to watch the sunset and had the place almost entirely to myself, I was a bit overwhelmed by the multitudes gathered by daylight at Northern Ireland's only UNESCO World Heritage site. I challenged my glutes to the stairs that led me up the causeway cliffs and moved beyond the masses. From there, I passed the occasional couple or small guided tour group, but was left mostly alone to contemplate the views, my thoughts, and my hangover with the ocean to my left and rolling hills of sheep pastures to my right. Hugging the cliffs for the first half of the walk, the path eventually winds down to reveal several kilometers of sand and dunes known as White Park Bay Beach. While no stranger to the strange, I was not expecting to share the beach with more cows than humans. Apparently this is just a day "down the shore" in Northern Ireland. Feeling like a beached cow?

Only kilometers from the finish, I passed through Ballintoy Harbour and was wooed by the Harbour Cafe's afternoon tea special, a ritual that I wouldn't mind adopting in my regular life. As soon as I sat with my pot of tea and warm fruit scone, I became cognizant of my heavy legs and worn-out feet. I could have easily sat in view of the harbor for an hour reading the collection of Colum McCann short stories that I had brought along for the journey, but something told me I should keep walking. Female intuition? I finished my walk just in time to catch the last bus and headed back to a much appreciated hot shower at my hostel.

Though a five hour walk is not an inconsequential undertaking, the coastal walk is not terribly strenuous; save for a few short uphill climbs (the highest cliffs are about 100 meters), the walk is almost flat. In windy or rainy weather, I can imagine it to be rather treacherous, but with mild temperatures and sunlight it is pleasant and refreshing-- especially after a long night involving copious amounts of Irish spirits! Pack plenty of water (there are a couple places to refill along the way), a snack, and lots of layers, as the weather on the Emerald Isle has a tendency of changing every five minutes.

Tip: If you are staying close to one of the end points of this stretch of the causeway, get a ride or take a bus to the opposite end and work your way back. Staying up past sunrise the previous night (slash that morning?), I got off to a late start and didn't begin my walk until almost noon. Though not limited by daylight when the sun sets at 10:30 pm, the local buses stop running fairly early. I reached Carrick-a-Rede in time for the last admission for the rope bridge, only to realize that the last bus back to the Giants Causeway/Bushmills was leaving in 10 minutes-- not enough time to walk another kilometer to the bridge, wander around the tiny island, and walk back. Had I taken the bus in the morning, I would have explored Carrick-a-Rede and had plenty of time left to set a leisurely pace for the way back. You live, you learn.

Dublin Highlight: The Celt Pub

Traveling alone on my first trip to Dublin (I would return about a week later in the company of five gentlemen), afforded me the opportunity to wander aimlessly through the streets, sort out my mental map of the city at a leisurely pace, pop into a cafe on a whim or take an hour to find the perfect meal, to even give up entirely and plop down for a Guinness (or two... or three) in lieu of dinner. Having no competing interests to deal with can be extremely liberating, and I find that going for a long walk is often my favorite way to get to know a new city... even if a bit lonely at times. Ultimately, I do probably favor my time spent in Dublin with my companions. Being in the presence of people who make you happy is a simple enough luxury at home; being able to travel abroad with them can be an extraordinary treat. But while I prefer the conversation and the mere existence of companionship, I cannot deny that there are obvious merits of having alone time in a new place.

My aimless wandering in Dublin lead me to The Celt, a pub on Talbot Street, which is north of the Liffy River and away from the chaos and throngs of tourists in Temple Bar. Though they serve food and I wandered in hungry around 9:15 PM, my state of indecision and my indifference towards my growling stomach had me opting for a Guinness and a seat at a small table where I could read Joyce and rest my legs. By the time I was ready for another round, a duo with a guitar and fiddle had begun to play and I knew I wasn't going anywhere as long as there was music to be heard. The two young, handsome musicians energetically cycled through traditional Irish music, well-known Irish folk songs, classic covers, and even a rendition of Poker Face, which was surprisingly awesome. I put down my book and sat with a contented look on my face, Guinness in hand, until they finished at half eleven and I waltzed back to a good night's sleep at my hostel.

The following evening, I began a similar quest for food and ambiance, stopping by several "traditional" pubs recommended by Lonely Planet, only to be disgusted by the presence of big screen TVs and disappointed by the lack of the craic I was searching for. If it ain't broke, don't fix it, right? I headed right back to The Celt, where another night of live music was already underway, this time by a trio of a guitar, fiddle, and accordion. Though the offerings were similar, they were no less enjoyable than the previous night and I delighted in realizing I had already committed some of the Irish drinking/folk songs to memory.

Three of my favorites are Galway Girl, Whiskey in the Jar, and I'll Tell Me Ma (Belle of Belfast City), and I've included versions of each below. Just imagine you are sitting in an Irish pub, beverage of choice in hand, and listening to a handsome young lad (or lass) play one of these to a tiny, but enthusiastic, crowd.

Though I gushed about it when my companions arrived, I never ended up going back with them. Sorry, guys-- we'll always have Dublin, yes, but it seems like only I will have The Celt.

If you go: The Celt is located at 81 Talbot Street. They have live music 7 days a week beginning at 9:30 PM. Get there early to grab a seat!