Waking up was no easy task. I rubbed my eyes, threw my contacts in, and looked hard into the mirror. I was tired and needed a quick shower as well as more sleep. I realized today was the 11th and today the Protestant/Unionist/Loyalist festivities were to begin. Before all of that though I was reminded of the main event. Today was the day in which we were to make our way to Giants' Causeway.
We all climbed into the bus and found out that though the scenic route took longer it was well worth it. Although the ride took a several hours, with well-seasoned stops it was entirely enjoyable. The first stop was in a small seaside town where we took a break and ran along the beach. I commented that the beaches are bigger and much nicer than those back home. The tide was far out and everything seemed very grand. It was the Ireland we all had envisioned in our minds, yet it looked eerily similar to the coast of New England, USA. We stopped again at a rope bridge called the Carrick-a-Rede rope bridge. The bridge was about 50 feet across but 100 feet up and with waves crashing underneath. The whole experience was filled with choice words and Kurt yelling at me to stop bouncing on it, but in reaching the other side we met a seascape that was well worth the 3.60 pounds. Waves crashed on the shore and sprayed upwards against the rocks while salty air invaded our nostrils and cleared our heads of any worry.
Next we came to the Giants Causeway. Upon getting out of the car I looked around and saw nothing giant and no causeway; which only added to the anticipation of seeing it. We had a quick lunch and stopped in the gift shop. All of us bought something and it was of considerable value. Kurt, Matt and I got matching scarves... just kidding but we did buy wool scarves, which are quite nice.
The driveway down added to the mystery as well. It was about half a mile down and around a corner when you saw the actual formation. It sprawled all over and the columns were clearly visible. They are the result of volcanic activity. The molten basalt met the ocean and the columns jointed together in hexagons. Almost every picture taken looked amazing and I'm sure you'll see them all as new profile pictures on Facebook. Kurt and I attempted some bouldering, low height rock climbing, and Kurt succeeded scaling a 20-foot column. I sat back and took photos as he gingerly made his way to the top all the while exclaiming how nervous he was.
Next up was a tour of the Bushmills Distillery. Our tour-guide Siobhan described the 3 main stages in producing a whiskey: the wash, the distillation, and the barreling. The wash comprises of water being pumped through barley and then stored in wash tanks that hold approximately 65,000 liters. Next the wash is triple-distilled and a pure spirit is formed. The spirit then moves into various barrels according to the desired product taste. The barrels age for a minimum of 6 years and up to 21 years. Some whiskeys are only sold at the distillery in Ireland. The 12-year is only available here in Ireland and the1608 are only available this year, as it is the 400th anniversary of the Bushmills. The tour was thoroughly enjoyable and almost everyone commented on the smells. The whole grounds had the scent of grain, and then cedar, and then alcohol.
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We trekked again onto the bus and made our way to the old Dunluce Castle. The castle sits next to the northern Atlantic and in the ruins lays the remnants of a once grand estate. The twists and turns of the Irish landscape only add to its' majesty and beauty. In touring Kurt and I snuck down to a cave. The cave mouth opened underneath the castle and out to the ocean. Possibly one of the coolest moments in the day.
In leaving the castle we were all tired and most of us slept the whole way home. It was a jam-packed day of walking and we needed time to process everything, but the night was not over. We were to make our way to the East Belfast Methodist Mission to hear a lecture Orangism.
The second half of the night began with a quick stop back at the dorms. We stretched and attempted at trying to look refreshed as we made our way to the East Belfast Mission. Linda Gould greeted us and led us into a back room where we were all warmly greeted by the rest of the group attending the lecture. There was a distinct contrast in the way people spoke about their faith from those of the Catholic faith we met. In my opinion, it was very Christ centered and biblically oriented, something familiar to me, as I am a Protestant. The lecture looked at the Orange traditions in the light of the gospel of Jesus Christ. Her presentation was very challenging. In addition, the lecture was very informational about how people act when at bonfires and how the defense of unionism creates tension. Some of the information in the lecture seemed foreign, but we would soon see it all come to fruition in the wee hours of the morning.
After the lecture we made our way to a "wee bonnie" up the street capped by the tri-color Irish flag. Children ran around gathering last minute debris to burn and fifes played from all directions. It resembled a 4th of July in the US, but with a mix of poverty. The burning material ranged from wood, to rubber tires, to bed mattresses. It was all an awkward experience. Often we were reminded to keep wary of the drunkenness of everyone around us. As we traveled to the next bonfire we were aware at how alcohol inflames the pride within people. It acts as a catalyst for the bad in people, which often focuses into bigotry. The next “bonnie” was large by our standards; but nothing compared to later that night. The heat was intense and kids happily walked up to it to throw more fuel. It was a ceremonial passing of the torch to the younger generation. In this action I saw myself. I have always been somewhat of a pyro what with lighting fireworks too near my mom; but this was on a totally different level. The teens all had handles of liquor and many seemed tipsy if not fully drunk. I could easily see myself in their position; if I were from here. The pride was contagious and if I grew up in those areas I could see how I would have happily taken part. It was eerie how easily we all fell into the spirit of the bonfires, even though they underscored a sentiment of hate and annihilation of the Catholic community.
The final bonfire was in my words and Mr. Bizga's "craziness". The structure towered about 60 feet upon layers of wood and tires. Men in neon vests acted as "security" guards and watched carefully anyone who approached the pile. There was a picture of Gerry Adams high up, something Katie found very offensive. Multiple tri-colors decorated the tower as well as an effigy of Pope Benedict. At one point 4 or 5 men climbed up and doused the tower with gasoline then at 12:01 am kids took poles lit on the ends and caught the pile on fire.
It took about 10 minutes for it to catch but when it started it went up fast. The blaze met its peak when the flags burned and the pope literally exploded. Cheers rose and we all remained silent. It was a mix of emotions for us all. Personally, I felt a tug from both sides, one willing the fire to burn on and another for it to end.
After an hour or so of watching it we made our way back to the dorms, all soaked in the smell of it. The smell of the fire invaded your nostrils and stuck in your hair. One shower was not enough, a lingering reminder of the night.
Reflecting on it all, I’m still torn about the bonfire tradition; due to the mixture of symbols. But, attending the bonfires defiantly helped in understanding the Protestant community and its bonfire tradition. It helped me emphasize with them and understand why so many people would want to participate in the tradition. My time in East Belfast aided my understanding of the complexity of the diverse communities of Belfast and their conflicting traditions.
We trekked again onto the bus and made our way to the old Dunluce Castle. The castle sits next to the northern Atlantic and in the ruins lays the remnants of a once grand estate. The twists and turns of the Irish landscape only add to its' majesty and beauty. In touring Kurt and I snuck down to a cave. The cave mouth opened underneath the castle and out to the ocean. Possibly one of the coolest moments in the day.
In leaving the castle we were all tired and most of us slept the whole way home. It was a jam-packed day of walking and we needed time to process everything, but the night was not over. We were to make our way to the East Belfast Methodist Mission to hear a lecture Orangism.
The second half of the night began with a quick stop back at the dorms. We stretched and attempted at trying to look refreshed as we made our way to the East Belfast Mission. Linda Gould greeted us and led us into a back room where we were all warmly greeted by the rest of the group attending the lecture. There was a distinct contrast in the way people spoke about their faith from those of the Catholic faith we met. In my opinion, it was very Christ centered and biblically oriented, something familiar to me, as I am a Protestant. The lecture looked at the Orange traditions in the light of the gospel of Jesus Christ. Her presentation was very challenging. In addition, the lecture was very informational about how people act when at bonfires and how the defense of unionism creates tension. Some of the information in the lecture seemed foreign, but we would soon see it all come to fruition in the wee hours of the morning.
After the lecture we made our way to a "wee bonnie" up the street capped by the tri-color Irish flag. Children ran around gathering last minute debris to burn and fifes played from all directions. It resembled a 4th of July in the US, but with a mix of poverty. The burning material ranged from wood, to rubber tires, to bed mattresses. It was all an awkward experience. Often we were reminded to keep wary of the drunkenness of everyone around us. As we traveled to the next bonfire we were aware at how alcohol inflames the pride within people. It acts as a catalyst for the bad in people, which often focuses into bigotry. The next “bonnie” was large by our standards; but nothing compared to later that night. The heat was intense and kids happily walked up to it to throw more fuel. It was a ceremonial passing of the torch to the younger generation. In this action I saw myself. I have always been somewhat of a pyro what with lighting fireworks too near my mom; but this was on a totally different level. The teens all had handles of liquor and many seemed tipsy if not fully drunk. I could easily see myself in their position; if I were from here. The pride was contagious and if I grew up in those areas I could see how I would have happily taken part. It was eerie how easily we all fell into the spirit of the bonfires, even though they underscored a sentiment of hate and annihilation of the Catholic community.
The final bonfire was in my words and Mr. Bizga's "craziness". The structure towered about 60 feet upon layers of wood and tires. Men in neon vests acted as "security" guards and watched carefully anyone who approached the pile. There was a picture of Gerry Adams high up, something Katie found very offensive. Multiple tri-colors decorated the tower as well as an effigy of Pope Benedict. At one point 4 or 5 men climbed up and doused the tower with gasoline then at 12:01 am kids took poles lit on the ends and caught the pile on fire.
It took about 10 minutes for it to catch but when it started it went up fast. The blaze met its peak when the flags burned and the pope literally exploded. Cheers rose and we all remained silent. It was a mix of emotions for us all. Personally, I felt a tug from both sides, one willing the fire to burn on and another for it to end.
After an hour or so of watching it we made our way back to the dorms, all soaked in the smell of it. The smell of the fire invaded your nostrils and stuck in your hair. One shower was not enough, a lingering reminder of the night.
Reflecting on it all, I’m still torn about the bonfire tradition; due to the mixture of symbols. But, attending the bonfires defiantly helped in understanding the Protestant community and its bonfire tradition. It helped me emphasize with them and understand why so many people would want to participate in the tradition. My time in East Belfast aided my understanding of the complexity of the diverse communities of Belfast and their conflicting traditions.
-Connor McDonald
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