Merna Mook: PERSON WANTED: any sort FOR BELFAST and any part of Ireland adventure ...

WANTED: Partner. Male or female. Short or tall. Big or small. Black or white. Pink or yellow. Young or not too old. Rich or not poor. Single or unencumbered. Fit not unfit. Intelligent but not over smart. Fun loving not boring. Sharing not self-absorbed. Must like a good red wine, of any variety.

FOR – Long romantic walks on the beach. Walks in the woods. Walks in towns. Walks in villages. Walks around cities. Walks in the countryside. Maybe romantic bike rides at same. Or jogs. To share romantic sunset evenings at any of those venues. Romance with the ambiance, not the partner.

MUST HAVE: GSH. No bad habits. . No self-absorbing factors. And own financial means – all the better if share.

AM OPEN TO ANYONE who wants to share some adventure time in and around Ireland and Northern Ireland.

ONLY GLITCH: Has to be within the next month as my reliance of depending on winning Lotto to enable me to ever return to the UK could prove fallible meaning need to have applications now, with role to be fulfilled almost immediately.

EXPLANATION: I so regret not hitting these shores in early July as was the original plan. My being unwell meant I needed to stay put in Epsom Downs to quietly rid myself of feeling unwell. Due to that and other things nearly three weeks of my schedule to travel, visit and see Ireland was side lined and this sojourn this week was merely an entrée of a few days to at least visit and see that which I could in my limited time.

And I have loved it.

Sadly I can only retell the tale of two cities. Dublin and Belfast. And the small piece of countryside in between the two. That taste is enough to have me yearn to return.

Ireland (and when I say Ireland I mean both northern and southern Ireland) are two countries that really do need to be experienced with others, not to savour by oneself. Every moment of my being here has had me wish for a travelling companion to enjoy and share the experience.

Interestingly I have found travelling on your own does not offer the same opportunities to mix with people, interact with the locals and get the real feel of the populace than you can when travelling with others. Maybe if I was back in my twenties or thirties it would be a different story; hanging out in the young bars and cafes would create interaction with locals. But for a 37-plus year old it is not a realistic option, as shown the night I entered O’Shea’s when every man in the room stopped talking, stopped drinking, almost stopped breathing and stared. I could read it in their curious faces – what the fek is a woman like dat doing in a place like dis?

On the odd occasion when I have endeavoured to initiate a conversation with anyone on this trip to the UK, whether in England, Scotland, Wales or Ireland, the response I get is usually muted or mumbled awkwardly and the body language, of literally turning their backs tells me that discussions at any level are not welcome. Eye contact for people is avoided at all costs.

Therefore I have not had a lot of opportunity to meet and talk with locals here or anywhere.

So – Person Wanted! Must be chatty! And be able to contact with eyes!

BELFAST

It is a city that surprised. Totally surprised.

Am grateful to our Finely Trained Ironman Athlete, Brian, who grew up in Belfast and over a coffee one day enthusiastically told me that if I were visiting Ireland I must visit his home town. If not for Brian Belfast would never have been on the radar, would never have crossed the Ireland to Northern Island border. Thank you Brian.

My first impressions of Dublin were a surprise as somehow expected something light and airy (if cities can be like that) but had forgotten that Dublin is centuries older than New Zealand so initially found the city old, dull and dowdy; but that very quickly evaporated as I explored its streets and character. Dublin is lovely - and light and airy.

I had never really given a thought to what I would expect in Belfast, but if Dublin was old, dull and dowdy I expected Belfast to magnify that, with the expectations of having little to endear a traveller.

Kiwis of my generation have the memories and visions of a warring Northern Ireland generated over the many decades of violence in Belfast, scenes we viewed daily in our international television news. Murders, multiple murders, bombings, marches, riots, hatred, sinister dealings, sinister crime.

Whilst not conscious of having preconceptions of what to expect when arriving in Belfast, the brain matter no doubt had categorised a general picture of doom and gloom; of dull, old concrete and brick buildings – many of which would bear remnants of bombings with ruined brick and concrete walls; of mean looking people wandering around with pernicious intentions. Of great numbers of British soldiers walking around in pairs. Of barriers and barbed wire. Police and army vehicles visibly obvious. Stones and rock piles at many a street corner. Signs of danger and warnings everywhere. Very few people meandering happily through streets and parks and those that would be to have depressing and sullen faces.

I was wrong. So very wrong. Hurrah for another occasion of being wrong. And ignorant.

I LOVED Belfast. Two days is all I had there. NOT ENOUGH. Am presently on the train heading back to Dublin and so regret my stay could be no longer in Northern Ireland. I say goodbye with great disappointment.

The city is vibrant, young, clean, smart, modern, alive and busy in a not too busy way. It feels like it is a city on the move. Upward. There are cafes and restaurants, interspersed with the old pubs and buildings. Universities, large corporates, tourism. Unlike cities in Italy there is no graffiti sprayed on the city building walls – many murals but no monuments. Each mural tells a story. Each street and building tells a story.

The city feels as though it has a new youthfulness about it. The numbers of university students helps with this. The old and redundant ship building yards have been up modelled and put to new and good use – the ship yards now build wind turbines. The old linen mills have been turned into office and apartment blocks. There are art works and sculptures, new and old everywhere. Great street-scape with monuments to past times, good and bad. Parks, a river, a fab modern, bright and free museum. And, heaven forbid, a great museum and display of anything Titanic. And history, lots of history. A most complicated and complex history that seems unfathomable to anyone who wished to simplify it.

I had no idea where I was staying – all my bookings have been done on LateBookings.com as for me it is the most economical way of finding accommodation. Sometimes, most times, it has its down side, booking economy accommodation that is. I booked economy in Belfast, I got 5 star. Wonderful people, wonderful guest house hotel, fabulous room, an enormously high and big bed. The Gregory Guest House. It was in the university and botanical garden area, within a 15 minute walk into central Belfast. Family owned and immaculately maintained, which is almost the exception for any latebooking.com deal.

I gloriously wallowed in that bed, in that room, in that guest house in the evening, watching the replays of the day’s events at the Commonwealth Games – all from the Irish television perspective.

Prior to hitting Ireland I had emailed Brian reiteration of things to do and see when in Dublin and Belfast. Brian listed options in both cities and like the independent thinker I am, I have stuck totally to his recommendations. Thankfully.

In Belfast yesterday was the standard open top red double decker bus tour to orientate self to the city. This morning was the Black Taxi tour of the political murals and peace line areas. This is a one-on-one tour with a black cab taxi driver who has the in depth knowledge of the political history, structures and struggles of Belfast in the past few hundred years, particularly the past fifty years.

To us ignorant New Zealanders, who really have lived in Utopia compared to many countries in the world, it is incomprehensible, unfathomable and beyond imagination of what many Belfast folk lived with and through due to their belief and values over the generations. I make no bones about it being all far, far too hard to comprehend, fathom and imagine.

I was lucky to have had a driver who grew up and lived through the times of the 1960’s to the present. Who knew his story so personally intimately. His recounting of history, from both perspectives, helped the mind unravel just a teeny bit of what it was and is all about.

Best of all, he explained each and every mural - what it was about, who, when, why, where - it was a walking, driving enjoyable history lesson in a very near and present history.

Viewing and hearing this was invaluable. It gave a greater insight into the troubles. I understand it so much more than I ever could have by reading history books. Yet, it is still all very unfathomable.

I felt fortunate that the Black Cab company sent me Jake to take me on the tour. No doubt all their drivers are Jakes; men who have grown through the fascinating Irish years of the 60’s to now. But I've travelled in a few taxis in my short few years, and many in foreign countries, so can pick a personable cab driver from the dubious ones. Jake was a super nice guy. Going to Belfast? The Black Cab tour is a must and ask for Jake Anderson to be your driver.

I didn’t want the tour to stop, I wanted to talk longer and further with Jake as his recollections and knowledge of Irish history had me spell bound. When it was time to depart I wanted to hug him, but my experiences in recent months have made me realise that some folk do not like demonstrative thanks, especially from a 37+ woman, therefore presumed that a mere handshake would have to suffice. That’s what we had. Long and repeated handshakes. One felt he enjoyed his time taking me on the tour as much as I did. Logic tells me he’s just good at it and good at making everyone feels like that. But sometimes it is nice to not be logical, I’ll tell myself he enjoyed himself too.

I walked for miles and miles, for hours and hours in and around Belfast.

And was intrigued by the Rugby Road - off Rugby Close - near Rugby Street. And saw SO many amusing sights - one of which is above - here was I in Belfast, Ireland - and there across the road Ming de Cafe - an Asian business with a real identity crisis - Chinese writing one side and on the other telling us it's a 'Patisserie'. Stood there, shaking my head - Belfast/Asian/French ???

And yet another park sign for the dog owners that bemused me.

After both tours I felt no hesitation at all in walking through the much maligned areas of Shankhill and Falls roads. Trying to absorb the enigma, the history, some understanding.

I walked in and around and through all the alley ways and back streets of the city. Loved the cafes, shops and pubs.