Belfast
The whole atmosphere has changed. People begin to scatter. One passenger is gone the first day. Others will disappear, goodbyes said to those who were around; for the rest, it's just someone gone. The crew head ashore to find a pub. The ship opens to tours, & the few curious onlookers of the first evening turn into crowds which will eventually number 800,000 -- half the population of Northern Ireland. I help out a bit at the souvenir table. Finally, something I really am better at than some of the crew.
The festival will be a great success for Belfast, but for us, the routine of days under sail break down into scattered forays ashore. I go hunting for film; supplies were getting into the red zone. Over the past 3 weeks about 8 of the crew have admired my old camera, & several strangers in Belfast comment appreciatively too. You can still buy SLIDE film at DRUGSTORES here. Wow. I'm moving here...!
Captain Robin invites 2 of us on a VIP tour with a gentleman from the American Consulate. It's a thorough tour, "good & bad, warts & all" as our host Peter put it, & a fascinating glimpse into Belfast's culture & history. Later, we attend a reception aboard the Etoile, & I get to try out my French.
Some tours are organized for the crews. Unfortunately due to some disorganization on the organizers' part (!!), we missed the crew bus for the coastal tour on the good day, & have to do it in the pouring rain the next.
In the meantime, I hop on the bus & have a look around Belfast.
There are charming pedestrian zones, & lots of shops. The botanic garden has a nice rose garden, & 2 fantastic greenhouses including the "Tropical Ravine" built in the 1880s & unique within the British Isles.
A crew bus tour, in the rain. 5 of us from the Bounty, & we got very wet. Carrick-a-Rede ("rock in the road") rope bridge is put up by salmon fishermen to take their nets to the wee island. Of course you HAVE to walk down the slippery path even though it's raining, but it's amazing how careful you get with several hundred dollars' worth of camera gear strapped to your butt, so I don't pay the fee to walk across the bridge. I can't believe I spent $3 on a 'rain poncho' at the restaurant; it's basically a dry-cleaner's bag with a hood, & I don't hear most of what's said the rest of the day thanks to the flimsy plastic flapping madly in the wind ("can we call you Luffy?" wonders Andrew who's just rejoined the crew). At least it kept the camera bag dry.
