Geek of All Trades

I procrastinated quite a bit on this post, as you probably could tell. Part of that was I had this huge black hole of sadness that the adventure was ending, and if I didn’t finish writing it, well, it wasn’t really over, right?

Except, that there are bits of the adventure that happened on this day that I had really wanted to document and share, and told myself I had more important things to do, and that I needed to review my trip journal and gather my thoughts more completely before I set out to write this.

Instead, I have found myself with a limited number of things I *could* work on, and this was one that fit the parameters.

In addition, this was somewhat fresh in my memory, prompted by a presentation I made this week for the Adams County Genealogy Society, on doing Family History Research in Ireland, and so, I was wandering down old research paths, making new discoveries, and revisiting pictures and such as that.

The morning was a bit brisk, and windy, and we had lots of luggage, so we opted for getting a cab to the train station, even though it isn’t a long walk. The cabby took the long way, which irked me a bit, because he clearly did it to pad what was going to already be a small fare, and he didn’t do it to put us on the right side of the street, just parked in a not parking spot, and let us out in the middle of the road to cross through traffic. The total was like £2.70, and I grudgingly gave him three pounds, mostly because I didn’t want to deal with change and his obvious petulance. I’m sure he thought we didn’t know any better, which is also irksome.

We got on the train, and they had brought in a special train because of some unspecified difficulties, which led to a hilarious (well, it’s hilarious looking back, I guess, but, in the moment it was incredibly awkward, and a bit mortifying) comedy routine. My sister and I were exchanging notes, and dad was reading them out loud. Really loud. And repeating things (so that not only was the awkward content said just once, no, multiple times). The reason we were writing them as notes was because we didn’t want to be overheard. Which we noted on the paper, and which he also read OUT LOUD). The notes were about the confusion we were having with some of the signage, and the definite improvement of this train over the previous train, we were concerned that we had stepped into a first class compartment, when our tickets didn’t have any class demarcation. It turned out all was fine, and we needn’t have worried about it, but, we didn’t avoid the loud, ignorant American stereotype. Oh well.

We had an uneventful trip back to Dublin. I worked on putting thoughts in my journal, and wished there were someone as entertaining as the octogenarian sisters on the train into Belfast. Again, an “oh well.”

We carried our luggage across the Liffey along the O’Connell Bridge, and it was sad to be looking at leaving the city. I was flooded with small regrets of things we didn’t do, and now couldn’t do for lack of time. I think the others were feeling it, a bit, too, because there was this strange mad dash to the shops selling tourist stuff, to desperately grab onto a tangible memento of everything. We had largely been frugal in our spending, and had held off buying much of anything. In my case, I was worried that I needed to hold some money back for that really special thing that I never actually found, and faced with leaving the place with little to show for it except memories, things I had rejected were looking much much better now. Still, I knew I didn’t really want tourist junk, I wanted something more meaningful, and thought, maybe I would find it in Limerick, where we would have a bit more time. In the evening.

As we waited for our return bus to Limerick, (right across the street from Trinity, you might recall) a group of students, with African accents, came parading off campus to bring attention to the abduction just a few weeks prior of the 264 school girls by Boko Haram. They were chanting “Bring Back Our Girls,” and I felt like I was seeing the real impact of this story, and it was powerful to see the students, mostly women themselves, making their statement.

We got the bus, and were quickly headed to another series of endings. Last stop at the Tourist center. Last walk along O’Connell Street. Last time passing the Richard Harris sculpture and get a picture. Last chance to stop at the sweet shop across the street from our hotel. I did stop at the sweet shop. I had the great plan to bring back sweets for my co-workers, and I got several hundred kilos of sweets.

We had dinner at the hotel, but I think it was Papa Johns take-away pizza from down the street. We checked in with our ride for the morning, and found out it was going to be before the hotel would have the breakfast out, and we asked them if there were a way to get a bag of pastries or something for us have for the road or an extra early room service, and they very graciously offered to have something set up for us early.

Up early, we expected maybe a small tray of breads, and maybe some cheese, but, we got hot tea, and pretty much the normal breakfast. It was really lovely. Our ride came a bit earlier than expected, and we bolted the last bits of bread and swallowed our tea, and got our ride to Shannon, for the plane.

Our great adventure had come to an end.

Tuesday, our last day in Belfast, was set-aside for more research. Having located the city library on Sunday, we now set out to see what we could find.

What we found was the most helpful librarian we encountered on our trip.

When we got to the research floor, I launched into me spiel for what seemed like the umpteenth time. She looked at me like I was a bit of a lunatic. My sister thinks I did sound like a lunatic. I remain unconvinced about my own lunacy, but, will allow speculation upon my sanity, because, I frequently question it myself.

The front door of the PRONI. For those that are sniggering, there was no Pron, so stop it.

Eventually, between the two of us, we managed to convey why we were there, and what we were looking for, and she actually became engaged in our search, and interested in what we were trying to accomplish, which netted us a number of useful bits of context. The end result of this conversation was that we were not
going to find what we were looking for at this library. We needed to go to the Public Records Office of Northern Ireland (PRONI). This office was located in, you guessed it, the Titanic Quarter.

We set out, grateful that we now knew the way that was not the long way, and we were soon at the office which hovered feet from those Harland and Wolf cranes. Like the Dublin city Library, we got access cards, and in this case, with our photos on them. For FREE. Our cards unlocked the research rooms, and provided an ID for accessing their online databases, and with these cards, we can access those same databases from home.

Here’s where you can imagine another library montage that looks way more interesting than it actually is. We looked through microfiche, and we looked through indices, and figured out how things were organized. Dad doozed a bit, and after we woke him (he was snoring) he took out the notebook I’d given him, and he started to work on the our very curious project, which I’ve not yet mentioned, and will explain later.

The PRONI is the building on the left edge of the picture. The cranes, are well, right there.

In the end, we did find some really interesting documents, which may, or may not have anything to do with anything, but, were worth getting photocopies of. After many hours, we finally gave up for the day.

On the way back, we stopped at the movie theater by the Belfast Ice Arena (they have a hockey team), and it was practically deserted, and the list of movie options we were interested in each required an hour of waiting, and so we gave up and headed back toward the hotel.

In honor of our last night in Belfast, we decided to go eat in the hotel’s restaurant, where we had pretty much, the best meal of the trip. Three courses. I had a roast pork dish, and a sticky toffee pudding for dessert.

The following day, we’d make our way back to Dublin, and to Limerick. From Limerick, and, after a last night at Limerick, we were heading home.  That’s a downer, I know. Sorry.