DAY 1: (Central Belfast)
city hall
Construction on the City Hall began in 1888 when Queen Victoria granted Belfast the title of city (an upgrade from the former title of “one horse town”) due to its rapidly expanding industries of linen, rope and shipbuilding. Not that the title mattered, Belfast had already overtaken Dublin as the most populous ‘city’ in Ireland (making the title as ceremonial and pointless as the queen herself). The site that was chosen for construction was previously the site of White Linen Hall, an international linen exchange (like Linens & Things, but without the other things). Completed in 1906, with profits from the gas industry (an idea long overdue for a comeback), it’s Baroque Revival style with distinct copper dome came to dominate the Belfast skyline and inspired copycat structures in South Africa and Liverpool (intellectual theft is the sincerest form of flattery). The UK union flag or ‘union jack’ was raised everyday from 1906 until 2012 when Irish nationalists first took control of the government (Make Ireland Great Again!), voting to limit the raising of the flag to just 18 days. On the night of the vote December 3, the Unionists stormed City Hall which inspired violent protests across the country (let’s settle this like adults - drunken Irish adults). Tensions have since cooled down so no need to storm the Hall to see inside. The highlights, the grand entrance and staircase, you can see without a tour, though the tours are free but you might find it a little dry, unless you’re shooting for a graduate degree in Irish history. Your time might be better spent outside, with plenty green space to go around and various memorials, such as one for the successful footballer George Best, or one for the not so successful ocean liner Titanic, for you to stop briefly at and nod your head in mock solemn contemplation before finding a space to sit down.
Suggested duration: 60-90 minutes. Visit www.visitbelfast.com for opening times and more information.
bonus: St. Malachy’s Church
Consecrated on the day of the feast of St. Malachy, November 3, 1841, (pro tip: keep a calendar of feast days handy for free food year-round), St. Malachy’s Church was completed in 1844. Designed by prominent Belfast architect Thomas Jackson, in the Tudor Revival Style (source: “trends making a comeback in 1844”) the now third oldest church in Belfast was originally supposed to be a cathedral with seating for 7,000 but they ran out of money (churches… they’re just like us), so despite its grand plans, it settled for something more modest (just like us) as it is in its current form. It was renovated in 1926, when it was given a marble face-lift (just doesn’t look natural on her face) with the only original feature being the canopy over the pulpit, now painted white (she looked so much better in her natural color). At the time Sir Charles Brett commented: “It is as though a wedding cake has been turned inside out, so creamy, lacy and frothy is the plasterwork.” (Someone’s hungry - never go grocery shopping or art critiquing on an empty stomach). Many of the original windows were destroyed in the 1941 Belfast Blitz by the German luftwaffe or Air Force (not a flying waffle-delivery service as the name implies though that is one invention whose time has come). The church didn’t take a direct hit, but rather a bomb exploded outside (though it’s funnier to imagine Germany dropping German opera singers from planes to sing, in a high enough pitch to take out the windows but Germans didn’t have much sense of humor though as much a sense of horror). The oak frames were also destroyed and replaced with concrete, which was too much load for the original bricks to bare, causing more damage than the Nazis did (beware the enemy within). Against the odds, St. Malachy still stands tall with its most prominent feature being the vaulted ceiling, an imitation of the Henry VII Chapel in Westminster Abbey (you thought we wouldn’t notice?), as well as the bell tower, which houses the largest bell in Belfast. The ringing of the bell was said to have disrupted the product of the once-nearby whiskey distillery (does this whiskey taste like the sound of a bell to you or have I just had too much whiskey and am now looking for something to fight about?). The bell was then wrapped in felt to soften the blow but the felt eventually wore away and by then, so did the whiskey distillery, so the bell now rings out loud and clear, a small victory for virtue over vice (they may’ve won the battle but they lost the war - more people in Ireland spend Sunday morning at the saloon then the church - at least you’ll have the place mostly to yourself). It was recently renovated (2008-09) so get a whiff of that fresh church smell while you still can.
Suggested duration: 30 minutes. Visit www.saintmalachysparish.com for opening times and more information.
albert memorial clock
The most well-known landmark of Belfast is without a doubt the Albert Memorial Clock, or the Big Ben of Belfast (or Big Bert we should call it). It was the result of an 1865 architectural design competition (a ‘design-off’) hosted by Queen Victoria to honor her husband, Prince Consort Albert (you can bet she referred to him as king in private to compensate for his lesser title), though this was after his death (what do you get for a man who's dead?) so it functions not just as a reminder of the time but as a symbolic reminder of your own mortality (but you can worry about the looming specter of death after vacation). The design-off was won by the underdog Belfast architect WJ Barre but Victoria awarded the contract to a Dublin-based firm which drew the ire (it’s the land of ire for a reason) of Belfast folks, forcing Victoria to relent (never underestimate the power of drunken protest). The clock was completed in 1869 in a French-Italian hybrid Gothic style with lions surrounding the base and Prince Albert sculpted onto the western face. Unfortunately, it was built on marshy land which caused the tower to lean four feet before settling (so perhaps the Leaning Tower of Bert is a more fitting name). This led to a popular local saying that the tower “has the time and the inclination,” (distinctly British pun almost certainly intended). Due to the clock’s proximity to the docks, it became a common gathering place for prostitutes who would wait here to attract incoming sailors (land hoe!) A 2002 restoration project repaired physical damages from the lean (as well as emotional damages, from all the solicited sex over the years). Fresh replica sculptures were also added (and fresh prostitutes) to make the area around the tower truly fit for a king. There aren’t actually any prostitutes here today, so don’t be that guy who goes around asking random women for their services (you know who you are, drunken Euro trip frat guy).
Suggested duration: 10-15 minutes. Visit www.belfastguide.org for more information.
the big fish, the salmon of knowledge
Though salmon is not normally associated with knowledge (unless you factor in the Omega-3 benefits) as much as it’s associated with bagels (in its smoked form) salmon nevertheless plays a role in the Fenian Cycle of Irish mythology, specifically The Boyhood Deeds of Fionn which tells the tale of Fionn Mac Cumhaill. It all started when 9 hazelnuts fell in the Well of Wisdom. When life gives you hazelnuts, you normally make Nutella, but these hazelnuts were now sacred, giving he or she who ate of them a gift of infinite knowledge (still doesn’t rule out making Nutella). Unfortunately, the nuts (these nuts) were eaten by a fucking salmon (total waste of wisdom) giving this unsuspecting and deserving salmon all the world’s knowledge (while humanity wastes away in its stupidity). A poet named Finn Eces spent seven years fishing for the salmon, in what normally would have been time poorly spent except the idiot actually caught it (perseverance is key, especially when fishing for wise salmon). But instead of just eating it on the spot sushi style like anyone would’ve done with all world knowledge on the line, Finn handed the salmon to his servant Fionn Mac Cumhaill to cook it (or smoke it and put it on a bagel). Fionn meant well and actually cooked the salmon as told but while cooking, he touched it to see if it was cooked and burnt his finger on the hot oil (ever heard of sous vide?). He licked his finger to cool it off, but little did he know that the entirety of the salmon’s original knowledge was condensed in the drop of oil on his finger. (not sure if that means the salmon was already smarter than the servant, but humans are pretty stupid FWIW). Finn Eces noticed his servant Fionn’s eyes were glowing with knowledge (or he was just high AF). Fionn explained everything, then Finn, thinking Fionn had already absorbed the world’s knowledge, told Fionn just to eat the whole damn salmon already, which he did, thus actually gaining the knowledge of the whole world (or perhaps he was just severely deprived of Omega 3s). In order to access that knowledge at any time all he had to do was suck on his thumb, and so, Fionn became the leader of the Fiann, a race of mythical (albeit thumb-sucking) Irish heroes.
Suggested duration: 10 minutes. Visit www.visitbelfast.com for more information.
st. anne’s cathedral
Normally cathedrals hold the seat of the local bishop (seat check) but St. Anne’s Cathedral is unique in that it the holds the seats of two bishops, that of Connor and of Down and Dromore. While there ain’t normally enough room in this town for the two of us, they’ve found a way to make it work (establishing boundaries early in the relationship helps). Construction started in 1899 on the site of the old St. Anne’s Parish Church, which was itself built in 1776 (“Im gonn’ let you finish but the American Revolution was the best thing to happen that year”). The new church was initially built around the old church until construction was finished then the old church was destroyed (probably filling the new church with asbestos, but you’re already polluting your mind by following the bible anyway). The western front of the church was added in 1924 as a memorial to the (not so) Great War. In 1932, the Chapel of the Holy Spirit was added, with mosaics depicting St. Patrick, who came to Ireland exactly 1500 years prior (he came, he saw… he converted). The north and south transepts weren’t completed until the 1970’s and 80’s, due to delays brought on by the Troubles, an Irish Civil War of sorts and a recession (likely brought about by wasting taxpayer funds on unnecessary things, like churches). In 2007, a (probably expensive) “Spire of Hope” was added (because if you or your country is ever in a rut you can always count on thoughts and prayers). The best view of the spire is from the base inside the church or from afar at night when its illuminated.
Suggested duration: 30 minutes. Visit www.belfastcathedral.org for opening times and more information.
kelly’s cellars
One of the oldest pubs in Ireland, Kelly’s dates back to 1720, when it was originally built as a warehouse for rum, gin, and whiskey but what’s the fun in distributing alcohol and going somewhere else to drink when you can cut out the middleman and drink right out of your own store? (you can apply a similar logic to candy and trick or treating, for a less stressful, more fulfilling Halloween). The cellars also functioned as a meeting place for the United Irishmen, between 1791 and 1798, in their plot to rise against (not so) Great Britain; when British soldiers came looking for them, they hid behind the bar - you’d have to be drunk to believe this tale, so grab a few pints (beer goggles make tall tales more attractive). The United Irishmen may have won the battle (of Hide and Seek) but they eventually lost the war (at least they got a cool plaque here for all their efforts). The pub used to be hidden down a long alley, but the buildings in the way were knocked down to make the pub more easily accessible (the Irish folks definitely have their priorities in order). Today, Kelly’s is as traditional as pubs get with the old-time decor, hard drinks, singing, and grizzled alcoholics.
Suggested duration: 30-60 minutes. Visit www.visitbelfast.com for opening times and more information.
Europa Hotel
This 4-star hotel would probably be a 5-star hotel if it weren’t hit by so many bombs. (Yelp Review: “great stay, lovely service and view, could’ve used less bombs but would recommend). Europa’s claim to fame is that it is the “most bombed hotel in Europe and in the world (not bomb as in cool, but literally explosives). It was bombed a total of 36 times during the “Troubles,” (sounds almost like a euphemism to describe a troubled child acting out and that’s basically what it was on a national scale), a North Irish conflict between the pro-Britain Protestant Unionists and the pro-Irish independence Catholic Nationalists in the late 20th century. Europa housed many British journalists covering the event, perhaps drawing the “ire” (get it, Ireland?) of the nationalists who targeted the hotel with repeated bomb attacks (could’ve also been an “overblown” retaliation for sub par room service). The last bombing was as recent at 1993, followed by a restoration in 1994 and a visit from the Clintons in 1995 - the room they stayed in has been named “The Clinton Suite” which you could actually stay in if you have the money for it (hopefully they’ve changed the sheets - you know how Bill gets after a few drinks) or you could settle for a drink of your own while catching some tunes in the elegant piano lounge.
Suggested duration: 30-60 minutes. Visit www.visitbelfast.com for more information.
grand opera house
Designed by Frank Matchum, the most prominent theater-architect in the world of his day (do you even theater build, bro?) the Grand Opera House opened the curtains in 1895, staging a variety of variety shows (mixing it up keeps people awake) counting US General (and soon to be president) Dwight D. Eisenhower among its famous attendants, with him and allied generals having treated themselves to a show (and some ice cream perhaps) after a war well done. The theater served as a cinema (desperate times) before it was badly damaged during the Troubles, by bombs targeting the nearby Europa Hotel (Please direct all bombs next door. Thank you, Management.) The theater continued staging performances throughout the bombing campaign, (leaving some audiences with much more than they bargained for!) but luckily there were no casualties during any of the performances. Thinking they would probably just keep getting bombed, they didn’t renovate the theater until 2006 (also a good excuse for not cleaning your room) assuming enough time had elapsed without any bombs, and they’ve thankfully been bomb free ever since.
Average duration: 2-3 hours. Visit www.goh.co.uk for tickets, schedule and visiting information
the crown liquor saloon
Refurbished from an earlier pub in 1885, the Crown Bar, as it’s called for short, is one of the few remaining examples of a Victorian Gin Palace, which makes it sound a lot larger than it is (maybe it lives up to it’s name after you’ve had a few gins), but it’s still quite grand in its decor, having been designed by the finest Italian craftsmen of the day (if they take their crafts as seriously as they do pasta, you know it’s gonna be good). The result is one of the classiest bars you’ve ever been to (check your regular bar demeanor at the door) and a nice counterpoint to Kelly’s Cellars. For starters the saloon was designed for the most reserved of Victorian era men (it’s the quiet ones your gotta watch) so unlike at Kelly’s, you’ll be rubbing elbows (rather creepily people watching from afar) with the Belfast elite (as opposed to literally rubbing elbows with a bearded, drunk bastard, who proceeds to violate your personal boundaries but in charming Irish way). The arresting decor, with stained glass windows, tiled floors and a mosaic of a crown at the entrance, will keep even the most ill-intentioned of drunks in check. Each booth or “snug” as they call them has its own metal plate for striking matches (for cigarettes not for drunken arson attempts) and a bell for alerting staff (you can tell which table’s patrons are American tourists first of all because they’re morbidly obese but secondly because they’re letting their kids repeatedly ring the bell without censure). If the decor and the little touches don’t keep your drunken alter-ego in check then the elevated pub food will.
Suggested duration: 30-60 minutes. Visit www.nicholsonspubs.co.uk for bookings, opening times and more information
STAY THE NIGHT IN: BELFAST
DAY 2: (South & East of Belfast)
botanic gardens
Originally the Royal Belfast Garden, built in 1828, the gardens dropped the pretense (literally), opening to the public in 1895 as the Botanic Gardens. The 28-acre complex is most notable for the Palm House Conservatory built in 1839, one of the earliest versions of a curved cast-iron glasshouse that has become a prominent feature of public parks and gardens around the world (if you’re a park without a glasshouse don’t even bother). The conservatory has two wings, one cool and one tropical (which one you choose to visit, like choosing between hot or iced coffee, depends entirely on the weather outside, as opposed to, you know, your interest in botany). The most unique species in the Palm House are a 36 foot tall globe spear lily from Australia (Oh crikey! She’s a beaut!) and a 400 year old Xanthorrhoea (which sounds like a plant-specific STD - and the old woman HAS been around the forest if you know what I mean). You can also check out the Tropical Ravine House, which sees its most visitors in February, with the blooming of the dombeya species (while the year round flora wither away in jealousy). The gardens are also popular for a scenic walk or a bagged beer, especially among the younger vagrant-looking crowd - drinking is forbidden on premises, hence the bag (we know you’re not drinking carbonated apple juice under there, the jig is up). If you’re lucky you may even catch a concert on the garden grounds, which has hosted famed bands U2, Kings of Leon, Franz Ferdinand, and Snow Patrol over the years (BYO bagged beer).
Suggested duration: 90 minutes. Visit www.visitbelfast.com for opening times and more information.
alternative: ulster museum & friar’s bush graveyard
The largest museum in Northern Ireland is far too varied in its collection to accurately classify, with items ranging from art to textiles to various dead things, from big and small, dinos and insects, to the (at one time) flying and swimming, birds and fish. Founded in 1821, it moved to its current location, in 1929, with a major expansion designed by Francis Pym, his only completed work (one-hit architectural wonder). The Brutalist style of the expansion was universally praised by art critics for its “barbaric powers” (it’s just a building man). The locals bemoan that all the good stuff goes to Dublin at the National Museum of Ireland (“How about you say that to our 19 polished axe-heads?” violently retorts the museum. But you can still say it though, the axe- heads have long since been blunted.) Although they’ve scaled back the dinosaur collector (“more insects, less dinosaurs,” said nobody ever), there’s plenty interesting specimens to see from butterflies (if you really love something, kill it then taxidermy it), mounted birds, including the slender billed curlew (whose slender bill likely promotes unrealistic bill image expectations among young female birds especially), dwarf elephants (vertically challenged is the preferred terminology) and some mummies! (you can’t go wrong with mummies). The basic bitch will certainly appreciate the hoards of Bronze Age jewelry, while basic husband appreciates that none of it is for sale, plus a variety of fashion and textiles from as far back as the 1700s (it’s coming back any day now). Most of the fashion collection was unfortunately lost in a 1976 “Troubles” bombing (“thank god” says basic husband) when gunmen stormed the museum and planted two bombs in the then-Malone House. Everyone got out in time but the coats and dresses from as far back as the 1600’s weren’t so lucky. (I guess you can say the terrorists didn’t have a taste for fashion?) Speaking of bad luck, the adjacent graveyard holds a mass grave of Belfast’s cholera victims (entrance by appointment only).
Suggested duration: 90 minutes. Visit www.nmni.com and www.belfastcity.gov.uk for opening times and more information.
parliament buildings
The establishment of Northern Ireland as an entity governed separately from Ireland in 1920 necessitated the construction of a separate parliament (if I’m not invited to your parliament, you’re not invited to my parliament). They met briefly in Belfast’s City Hall while construction on this building began, but unfortunately freedom isn’t free (it’s actually quite expensive) forcing them to do away with the building’s original plan for a dome (They were probably better off still living in Ireland’s basement. Sure there’s less personal freedom, but the wifi is free). Designed by Sir Arnold Thornely of Liverpool, the various structures served as official homes of the prime minister and the speaker of the house (Can you help me ram this bill through congress? Also, could I borrow some milk for my cereal?) as well as the High Court and two chambers for the Senate and House of Commons (pretty much the whole government all under one roof). The prominent Great Hall features a chandelier from King George V, originally a gift from Kaiser Wilhelm II that hung in Windsor Castle (regifting is only a pardonable offense if the gift is worth millions and original giver and recipient are both dead). The building is virtually unchanged from its original appearance, surviving World War II by coating the exterior with a manure-based paint that was supposed to be easily removable but took seven years to clean after war’s end (no shit). On the path leading up to the building is a statue of Edward Lord Carson who was instrumental in the creation of North Ireland (and apparently had quite a flair for the dramatic if you were to judge a man by his statue). The chambers of the Senate and House are pretty standard as far as chambers go although the Senate, with comfortable leather benches, seems a lot more chill (you can almost imagine the senators rolling some blunts and ordering some Dominos here, after hours) though the Senate was abolished in 1972, so the chamber is just used for “committees” (blunts and Dominos). The House probably sees more action judging by the austere decor. Designers tried to lighten it up in the 1970’s with a curved seating arrangement but you know that’s not going to help matters. An electrical fire in 1994 that destroyed the House chamber was the source of conspiracy theories that the chamber was destroyed purposely to make way for a less confrontational chamber (which gives new meaning to the phrase “extreme makeover”) under the less confrontational, power-sharing Northern Ireland Assembly, which itself dissolved in 2017 due to concerns of power distribution (no surprise there, but does anyone work here anymore?). The Great Hall was also used for the 20,000 attending the funeral of footballer George Best (in 2005) proving there’s only one thing that can unite the people: football.
Suggested duration: 30-60 minutes. Visit www.parliamentbuildings.org for opening times and more information.
ulster folk museum
The Ulster Folk Museum is actually two museums in one (not for the price of one unfortunately), the Folk and Transport Museums, detailing how the people of Northern Ireland, past and present, lived and how they got around, respectively (which is normally one in the same if you’re from any major city and spend most of your life in traffic). The folk museum was started in 1958 as means to preserve a disappearing way of life for future reflection (as opposed to electing a backward politician promising a return to a less advanced more archaic and probably racist way of life). The museum opened in 1964, merging with the transportation museum in 1967 (in a violent head-on collision). The folk museum consists of a variety of Irish dwellings, uprooted from their original locations and rebuilt here (not really in the spirit of preservation but okay), a fully functioning farm with stores and livestock (look daddy its the petting zoo. that’s the slaughterhouse kid, watch how beef is made! kid starts crying). It all comes together to make an almost real town called Ballystura (real like an Irish Westworld but without the visitors raping Irish robots). Activities include cooking, craft making and sewing (to distract you while the Irish robots plot their escape and takeover of the real world). Ulster also maintains a sizable catalogue of radio and TV footage from 1972 to 2002 (a weekend binge-watch, in streaming terms). On the transportation side, you’ll find a collection of trains spanning 150 years including an impressive steam train (which run mostly on vegetable oil for those who still think vegetable oil is a healthy cooking choice), plus a DeLorean (for some reason - it’s not Irish) famous for its role in the Back to the Future series (“Are ye telling me ye built a time machine?” - Marty McFlannigan). You will also find a rare vertical take-off plane, of which there are only two of its kind; this model crashed upon takeoff (because obviously) killing its first test pilot before being restored, successfully flown and immediately retired (not pushing their luck with that one) and a model railway that’s good for kids (and tired of living adults). There’s a Titanic exhibition too but save your big ship energy for the real Titanic museum.
Suggested duration: 90 minutes. Visit www.nmni.com for tickets, opening times and more information.
BONUS: The samson & goliath cranes
On the shores of Belfast stand two massive ship-building cranes informally named after the powerful but flawed biblical figures of Goliath and Samson (one was pathetically felled by a short guy with a slingshot while the other was basically self defeated after a bad haircut). At 350 feet, Samson stands slightly taller while both have a wingspan of 500 feet (see you at the NBA draft combine) and can lift over 800 tons. The H&W symbol stands for Harland and Wolff, on whose shipyard the cranes were erected in order to meet a growing demand for ships, only for demand to fall after the cranes construction (something that could’ve been brought to my attention YESTERDAY) They were both scheduled for demolition but the people of Belfast stepped up and saved these lovable cranes from destruction. They’re now used mostly for ship repairs and other construction projects, and odd jobs basically (they’ve fallen on tough times). In 2007, Samson crashed into a smaller crane named Henson (who died instantly on impact). Officials tried to deny it ever happened for some reason (three people were allegedly a few feet away from a fate worthy of a Final Destination sequel). Samson was found to have a BAC way above the normal limit (for cranes) and was suspended from work, but rehab got him back only a few months later (he’s been sober ever since). They may just be cranes but they’re the most lovable cranes ever.
Suggested duration: 10-15 minutes. Visit www.visitbelfast.com for more information.
titanic belfast & ss nomadic
Built on the same site as the construction of the actual Titanic, this museum and memorial recounts and honors the tale of its ill-fated namesake, which hit an iceberg and sank on its maiden voyage to New York in 1912 (epic fail). A common misconception is that this is the dock where the passengers boarded the ship (where we were first introduced to Leo Dicaprio’s hearthrobbery and Billy Zane’s douchebaggery), but it’s actually just where the ship was built. The maiden voyage left from Southhampton, England. (also Jack is way too hot to be a realistic peasant, but nobody’s going to pay money to watch Kate Winslet fall for a drunken old vagabond for three hours). The decline of shipbuilding on the dock paved the way for its redevelopment, culminating in 2012 with the opening of the memorial marking an exact century since it sank. The building was designed by Eric Kuhne, with the intentions to revitalize the area through design, similar to what was done in Bilbao, Spain with the construction of the Guggenheim museum (if by revitalize, you mean completely minimize everything around it). The finished product looks simultaneously like a ship’s bow and an iceberg, or a ship splitting an iceberg in half (which is how the disaster would’ve been depicted if the film was directed by Michael Bay). The building even stands at the same height as the Titanic’s bow but that hasn’t stopped locals from calling it “The Iceberg.” In the year it opened, the attendance of 800,000-plus exceeded the expectations set of 400,000, with over 1,500 bottles of champagne sold (not sure why that’s a relevant statistic or why people are drinking champagne at a tragic memorial but ok). Among its many attendees, the museum has welcomed Queen Elizabeth (the sturdiest ship of them all), Hilary Clinton (taking on water) and Dr. Robert Ballard, the man who discovered the Titanic wreckage (how about you go back and find the priceless gem thrown overboard by the privileged old white hag - that gem could’ve paid back all of our college loans bitch!) The interior of the museum has over 130,000 square feet of space, mostly devoted to galleries, the largest conference center in North Ireland and a pub called Hickson’s Point named after a turn-of-the-century Belfast shipbuilder (in case the tragedy, or the memory of how sad the movie was rather than the tragedy itself, has you in need of a drink). The galleries are devoted to various stages of the ship’s legacy including an interactive ship construction plan to a ride that actually immerses you in the ship’s construction (it’s tame but save your drinks for after just in case), scenes from the dock on launch day (have a safe trip!) scenes from the perspective of the passengers (Don’t get too excited. You’re down in steerage.) the voyage and sinking, with audio of survivor stories in background, myths and legends, with audio of Celine Dion’s “My Heart Will Go On” (if the survivor accounts don’t get you, Celine certainly will), and finally, a fish-eye view of the Titanic wreckage. If you’re left disappointed at the lack of attention to the James Cameron film (because the real tragedy is Rose not sharing the big-enough piece of plywood with Jack, forget about the thousands who died), you can get a look at the famed Titanic staircase recreated for the film (if you’re a teen girl, imagine Jack waiting for you at top).
Suggested duration: 90 minutes. Visit www.titanicbelfast.com for tickets, opening times and more information.
SS NOMADIC
Part of the White Star Line of ships, along with RMS Titanic and RMS Olympic, SS Nomadic was built, along with the similarly-sized SS Traffic, to transfer passengers and goods to the two larger ships, both of which were too large to dock in certain areas (it’s not glamorous but someone’s gotta do it and you can just imagine a personified animated version of SS Nomadic doing it with pride). Given that the Titanic, Olympic and Traffic all perished at sea, Nomadic is the last of its kind (and without any similar ship to mate with, the whole species is doomed to die out, but good old Nomadic ain’t going down without a fight). Built to shuttle at least 1,000 passengers, it was divided into first, second and third class compartments (even a small shuttle had plenty room for segregation). The first class, which comprised the front upper and lower deck, was fitted with luxuries ie cushioned benches, porcelain fountains, a buffet, and gender specific bathrooms (while low classes were probably stuck to stand, drink buckets of collected rain, scrounge around for first class scraps, and be forced to “mark their territory” in the bathroom). Leading up to the maiden voyage of Titanic, SS Nomadic shuttled 274 passengers to their doom (“enjoy your stay on the Titanic or wherever your final destination takes you”) from Cherbourg, including several wealthy and well-to-do passengers. Among them were NY millionaire John Jacob Astor, who is said to have gone down with the Titanic while calmly puffing a cigarette, with a fellow named Jacques Futrelle (even the death of a wealthy person is far more dignified than that of the poor people, rabidly flailing about). US Army Officer Archibald Butt was on the Nomadic before dying in the Titanic - due to his background, he was the source of many sensationalist tales of heroism in the ship’s final moments, such as pulling men from lifeboats to enforce the “women and children rule” but also fighting off the second class steerage passengers from entering the first class lifeboats (if you wanted to survive, you should’ve ponied up for first class), before allegedly returning to finish a card game as the water overcame him. Also aboard was the well-off Benjamin Guggenheim who helped women and children onto the rescue boats before going back to his room and putting on a tuxedo, to die with dignity (a swimsuit would’ve been a more poetic choice). Finally, Nomadic graced Titanic with Sir Cosmo Gordon who was somehow able to escape on Lifeboat #1 (so much for “women and children” first) then bribed the lifeboat captains not to go back to try to assist survivors treading water. He later claimed that it was just a charitable contribution for the captains (but isn’t that what all wealthy people say, with a trademark wink, when they bribe someone?) The Titanic may have been the end for all of these people, but for SS Nomadic, the journey of life was just beginning, and a series of events would unfold which rival even the absurdly epic story of Forrest Gump. Nomadic served in both world wars, as a minesweeping ship under the French in WWI and a minelaying ship under the English in WW2, moonlighting as a passenger shuttle in the years between and after, before retiring from the shuttling service in 1968. It was about to be sold for scrap but was saved by a private investor, who converted it into a floating restaurant stationed off Paris in 1974, where it stayed for two decades before landing a cameo appearance in James Cameron’s Titanic in 1997. But the humble old ship didn’t care to pursue fame and fortune, opting for the quiet shores of Paris, until financial hardship, with the death of its owner, left it at risk to be dismantled. That’s when the Northern Irish maritime enthusiasts put their resources together, along with wide public support, to save Nomadic from a grisly demise. It arrived here, where it was originally built, in 2006 to celebratory crowds (you can imagine the rusty, old and depressed Nomadic smiling for the first time in years). Thanks to an organ transplant (similar boilers removed from the 1907-built SS Nyanza, still serving Lake Victoria in East Africa) and a $7 million facelift, courtesy of it’s original builders Harland & Wolff (it’s coming full circle) the Nomadic is in back in business about 100 years after its building (if by business you mean literal business, collecting ticket and souvenir revenue, it’s not actually fit to sail but that’s good enough). If that wasn’t heartwarming enough, SS Nomadic entered in 2008 into the National Register of Historic Vessels (basically, the hall of fame of ships), joining only a select few members including London’s Cutty Sark. And if all of this wasn’t heartwarming enough to make an excellent animated film, wait until you hear about Nomadic’s side-kick, the Brave Little Lifeboat, one of two remaining lifeboats from the White Star Line. While most of Nomadic’s lifeboats were vandalized when it was stationed as a restaurant back in Paris, two were salvaged for a 1987 maritime exhibit in Cherbourg, (where the Nomadic first shuttled passengers to their doom) but one of them was left outside and rotted beyond repair, so it was burnt alive (this is getting pretty dark for a kids movie), while the remaining lifeboat was restored, briefly being shuttled back to Belfast in 2016, for a heartwarming (made for TV reunion) with Nomadic before taking its show on the road (the road being the ocean) on display at various exhibits around the world. Nomadic certainly misses his Brave Little Lifeboat but knows he’s living his best life, and old Nomadic himself has no shortage of company.
Suggested duration: 30-60 minutes. Visit www.nomadicbelfast.com for tickets, opening times and more information.
Titanic’s dock & pump house
Welcome to the birthplace of the Titanic (where Titanic’s mother screamed for an epidural and ended up opting for a C-section to birth that massive hunk of metal). It’s hard to imagine, when looking over the dry dock, how big the Titanic was, towering well over the height of the pump house (pictures on exhibit for those without an imagination) which also has most of its original engineering machinery preserved so you can try to understand just what went into building this modern marvel (or just stare in ignorant awe).
Suggested duration: 60 minutes. Visit www.titanicsdock.com for opening times and more information.
hms caroline & The Great Light
If the tale of SS Nomadic made for a great family-friendly entertainment, the tale of HMS Caroline, a combat cruiser and support ship, is more a bittersweet tearjerker (you know it’s “gunning” for a “supporting role” Oscar). Built in 1914, it was deployed with the purpose of launching UK Royal Air Force planes to counter German airships (glorified blimps) flying over the North Sea. Caroline is the only surviving ship from the Battle of Jutland, the largest battleship clash in World War I (you sunk my battleship lol, but no we’re actually sinking), and is one of just three ships to survive the entire war (and would’ve been the closest thing to a sure bet if you could place bets on wartime vehicles). After the war Caroline took some odd jobs, ending up patrolling the East Indies before moving to Belfast to become a training ship for the Royal Naval Reserve which entailed removing all of it’s weaponry and boilers (its manhood basically) to better serve the recruits (take away the fun part basically). During World War II Caroline served as the official headquarters of the Royal Navy, permanently stationed in Belfast (a cushy desk job after years of combat basically). The post-war years saw Caroline returning to training duties before old age got the best of her; she was decommissioned in 2011, near 100 years from her construction. She became listed as a “stone frigate” or a dock-fixed ship, unable to move on her own power (a vegetable, basically) but her body was in good condition and able to stay afloat (but her mind was gone, just pull the damn plug). She was converted to a museum, opening to tourists in 2016, in the Titanic Quarter of Belfast. Today, Caroline is the second oldest ship in the UK Royal Navy, behind only HMS Victory, (stationed in Portsmouth) which, to be fair, had the greater fortune written in its name (names kid Victory, turns out to be an entitled jackass). But you can put your money on Caroline; you know she’ll deliver.
Suggested duration: 60 minutes. Visit www.nmrn.org.uk for tickets, opening times and more information.
STAY THE NIGHT IN: BELFAST
DAY 3: (North & West of City Center)
cave hill
This basaltic hill was formed across three geological eras by the rising flow of hot basalt lava meeting its greatest match, oxygen, causing sparks to fly (literally and figuratively) and progressively cooling off over time, turning into cold and hard stone (like most relationships). It has very distinguishing features (a polite way of calling it ugly), such as its “Napoleonic nose” (only Napoleon with his trademark complex, could’ve associated himself with something this large). It is also thought to be the inspiration for Jonathan Swift’s Gulliver’s Travels, as the ridge was thought to look like a sleeping giant protecting the city (or sleeping on the job instead of protecting the city - you had one job). Cave Hill is often compared to Edinburgh’s Arthur’s Seat, due to its proximity to a major city (we look nothing alike). Originally called Ben Magidan after a 9th century King of Ulster, it became known as Cave Hill for its most distinguishing cavernous features (we’ve honored him long enough, let’s go with something more generic). The cliff face has three hills, essentially stacked atop one another, each progressively harder to access; most people won’t be able to access the third one (and don’t read that as a challenge as much as a warning). The caves are all manmade, thought to have been dug out for mining iron while the flanks of the hill mines of limestone and transported to Belfast docks by rail in the 1800’s; there were two towns built along the tracks for quarry worker living, Mammystown and Daddystown, but they’ve long since been abandoned (leaving any of the remaining quarry workers with severe abandonment issues). The area below the first cave is known as Devil’s Punchbowl, and is where Celtic farmers herded cattle; it’s pretty steep though so stick to the path (or turn to punch). The top of the cliff and end of the trail is dotted with the remnant of McArt’s fort, named after the grandson of the 9th century Ulster king, who died at the battle of Crew Hill in 1004, which established a long-standing trend of military-related deaths here. In 1795, leaders of the United Irishmen met here to plan the rebellion of 1798 (before they realized they could get more accomplished over a pint of ale at Kelly’s Cellars). They should’ve continued hiding behind the bar, because one of the co-conspirators, Henry Joy McCracken, was caught here and later executed. In 1944, an American Air Force bomber flew into heavy fog over Belfast and ended up crashing into the forest near Cave Hill, killing all 10 servicemen aboard. The crash site, known as “the bomb hole field” is accessible to the public and some visits have been known to turn up some authentic “souvenirs,” such as a ring with initials on it that was eventually linked to the family of the airman, as detailed in the 2007 film Closing the Ring, directed by Richard Attenborough (the last film directed by the old guy in Jurassic Park and brother of the guy who narrated Planet Earth, among other lesser achievements, like starring in over 50 movies and directing Gandhi). The hike to the top is a short 15-20 minutes but you’ll want to spend some time to explore the caves or think about exploring the caves (and wondering what life would be like if you were more adventurous) before settling for the easy road, but taking the time to admire the views from the top stretching past Belfast all the way to Isle of Man and Scotland on a clear day.
Suggested duration: 90-120 minutes. Visit www.visitbelfast.com for opening times and more information.
belfast castle
At the foot of Cave Hill but still high enough for unobstructed views of Belfast (and an unhindered air of superiority), this castle replaces the original Belfast Castle, built in the 12th century by the Normans, of Normandy France. Originally located in the city center, it was the home of the First Baron Chichester, but burnt down in 1708 under the ownership of one of his heirs (the apple didn’t just fall far from the tree, the entire tree burnt down). The Chichesters decided to rebuild in the suburbs as the city center was apparently no longer fit for such regality (you can still see the squalor of Belfast if you look close enough). The new castle was completed in 1870 under new ownership of the 3rd Marquess of Donegall, the Viscount Chichester and Earl of Belfast (who undoubtedly with a name like that, smelled of rich mahogany). It was designed by Lanyon, Lynn and Lanyon, the same Belfast- based firm that tried to bribe their way into building the Albert Memorial Clock, but were countered by a public vote (this is why we don’t do work for the plebes). Lord Donegall’s death, however, left the Donegalls with a mound of debt (wealthy people with castles, they’re just like us?) leading to the castle being scooped up by the 8th Earl of Shaftesbury (they say this cat Shaftebury was one bad-ass mother…) and eventually donated by his son, the 9th Earl of Shaftesbury, to the city of Belfast in 1934. Opened as a museum in 1988 (the squalor finally spreading to the countryside), featuring an antique shop, restaurant, and visitor center. While it might not be as exclusive, it’s a popular albeit expensive wedding venue, if you need shows of wealth to prove your love.
Suggested duration: 30-60 minutes. Visit www.belfastcastle.co.uk for opening times and more information.
bonus: crumlin road gaol
With a nickname like “The Crum.” this is one prison you’d normally want to avoid (especially during shower time) were it still open (and were you a criminal) but it’s no longer open to prisoners and is now open to the public as the last remaining Victorian prison (but don’t let its period of origin fool you, this prison was anything but polite). Designed by Charles Lanyon, who may have bribed officials to be commissioned given his checkered history, this prison was built of solid basalt rock (so don’t expect any Shawshank style escapes) influenced by the design of HM Prison Pentonville in London. It is comprised of four wings, each wing four stories in height, all of which surround The Circle, where the prisoners would gather (and we’re not talking about gathering for tea). The first prison built under “the Separation System,” Crumlin was unique in separating prisoners by cell (no more slumber parties basically) with room for over 500 prisoners (a bullish outlook considering Irish prisons don’t get to influence who goes to jail unlike countries with private prisons, cough cough America). Business was booming nevertheless; the 1970’s saw up to three people per cell. It goes without saying, however, that not all prisoners are bad (some are just misunderstood). The first batch of inmates were transferred from Carrickfergus Prison in 1846, many of whom were just women and children, making the long walk in chains, often imprisoned for petty crimes such as theft of food in harsh times (‘food is a luxury, not a right,” some wealth hoarding republicans likely said at the time, which is easy to say when you already live a life of luxury). In 1858, 13 year old Patrick Magee was sentenced to 3 months in prison and ended up hanging himself (pretty much the opposite of a bar-mitzvah). Many Ulster suffragettes were also jailed for the simple crime of wanting to vote such as Dorothy Evans (she was caught with explosives but still…). But let’s not pretend that all prisoners are innocents (prison-reformists might find this controversial, but some prisoners are indeed criminals) such as nineteen year old Tom Williams of the IRA who was hanged in 1942 for killing a Belfast constable, having been hung by Thomas Pierrepoint, who, with six kills, was one of the most accomplished hangman of his day (a great resume builder). The last person executed here was Robert McGaddery for the simple crime of wanting to commit murder (and doing so). Many of the executed are buried inside an unmarked grave near the back wall of the prison, adjacent to the prison hospital (so you can pay your dis-respects). Despite it being known as Europe’s Alcatraz, there was one confirmed escape in 1866 but for the most part nobody escaped after conviction as the Crumlin Courthouse was right across the street and was linked to Crumlin by underground tunnel (one stop shopping for all your convicting needs). Before it closed in 1996 it was targeted by a bomb during “the Troubles” in 1991, killing two (more ‘Troubles’ than it was worth). Famous residents (prisoners) over the years include some noteworthy Irish Republicans (just lock them all up!).
Suggested duration: 60-90 minutes. Visit www.crumlinroadgaol.com for tickets, opening times and more information.
international wall murals
In Northern Ireland, and Belfast in particular, murals represent one of the most prominent forms of political expression, and are a good, safe alternative to blowing things up (make art, not war, essentially). Since the 1970’s, over 2,000 murals have been painted and those are just the ones that have been documented (the undocumented ones are detained and put in cages). The walls were initially built as “peace walls” to quash sectarian violence between Protestant Loyalists, loyal to UK, and Catholic Republicans (we bow to no king, well except God our king, but unlike the king of the UK, God is totally legit, totally real).
part of the good friday agreement of the 1990’s that ended three decades of conflict
Suggested duration: 60 minutes. Visit www.belfast-murals.co.uk for more information.
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