Belfast with British education I received, with an avenue clean and the Town Hall as the first stop. Dublin had left two hours earlier and now walking along the pedestrian streets of the center of the capital of Northern Ireland, or Northern Ireland, because in this region of the world the disagreement begins with the names.
I looked for a restaurant with the illusion of eating something different from a sandwich with potatoes or fried fish with potatoes, chicken with patatas, o patatas con ketchup. I opted for the sandwich while watching a musician playing on the sidewalk, Bryan Adams who played with his own voice cracking. After several broad streets and walked me repeatedly crossed the rush of pedestrians of any major city in the world.
The Cathedral of Santa Ana is considered Catholic, although Roman and evangelical, although Protestant. I know nothing, but I guess all pray to the same God.
I looked like a modern place, with such devotion to lift malls, slender glass buildings and mannequins in the windows. I went to the Clock Tower in the Albert Memorial, that is set to Big Ben, but without the carry or the size of the Tower of London. After that I drifted away from the city center, looking for some silence at the Cathedral of Santa Ana. A large Celtic cross is at the center of the apse. While contemplating the cross I wondered what inspired version of Christianity that temple. I learned soon after that it was an Anglican church, namely, Catholic considered, although Roman and evangelical, although Protestant. I know nothing, but I guess all pray to the same God.
That afternoon, hired a group of young foreigners black taxi, old, very authentic and very expensive. We wanted to get into the conflict, Understand the Belfast scars, but soon I would realize that this city still shows no bandages his wounds open.
A local guide told us sarcastically neighborhoods strife. He spoke of the Northern Irish sporting ability in patterns of stone throwing and jumping fences. I thought the joke tasteless constant over a people who still mourns its dead and even more so with that wall full of messages, the wrath of the IRA, Protestant protests and so could follow the macabre game of words that are written here with blood. Still, (Today!) There is a curfew, fences are closed at sunset and children throwing stones to the other side. Today, During the day families stroll together, by streets tidy, with its gates and its Anglo-Saxon, so civilized. In one of these streets got our first dead today, The night ends with the truce and each takes refuge on the side of "good", and that huge wall protects them from the other.
Hatred is present where the truths are told in whispers and looks speak louder than words.
I was overwhelmed by walls painted with snipers on the Unionist and drawings praising the leaders of Sinn Fein on the Catholic side. I turned away from the tour group to walk a little further and painted facades live to see the face of its inhabitants, with flags decorating their porches, for anyone forget that the conflict still exists, that war, even war flags and fences, remains latent. Hatred is present where the truths are told in whispers and looks speak louder than words.
Belfast survives his resentment bleeding platitudes and covenants establishing ethyl. The pubs of the city are the perfect balm to provide without asking "What are you on which side?"And then Celtic music sounds with that irresistible joy and here it, all agree. I've never seen so starkly the conciliatory effect of music. I should clarify that these bars are in neutral territory and are usually frequented by foreigners, but also saw the Northern Irish dancing uncontrollably to the sound of a violin and a guitar. I prefer to think that there was festive souls on both sides.
