Compared to the last couple of days, this morning is a leisurely affair. Breakfasting in luxury at the Shipquay, Hubby opts for the eggs with smoked salmon. The breakfast buffet is also very good. This is a lovely place to stay.
We only have a very short time in Derry. We're into the stage of the trip that was not a foregone conclusion when we set out to visit Northern Ireland. As I report on todays explorations, I guess it's time to discuss a few sensitive topics. I grew up in Sydney and was in primary school and high school in the 1970s, graduating in 1981. As a child I was not oblivious to the news and current affairs playing on my TV screen each evening. Indeed, I remember with great satisfaction a creative writing piece I wrote when I was 11 which was related to the politics of unionisation. I named it Undressing Dragons and it was very obviously inspired by contemporary industrial disputes and sexual politics. With respect to Northern Ireland what I saw on my TV, putting myself back in my child's mind, could be summarised as outrageous and unjustifiable death and mayhem fuelled by hate speech. I didn't have a label like "hate speech" to use at the time. In fact, at the time, using the concepts I'd been raised on I just regarded the rhetoric I heard on my TV simply as "evil" and the personages from whom that speech was coming, evil people. I was glad I lived a world away and formed a firm view that I absolutely wanted nothing whatsoever to do with Northern Ireland.
Fast forward to 2011 and beyond when I started to trace my family history, I found I have two lines of family heritage in Northern Ireland. To be honest, I wasn't as interested in them as I was those who came from other places. When I set out to visit the places of family origin. Northern Ireland just didn't figure in the plan at all. Gradually, I began to think more seriously about whether to go to Northern Ireland. It started out small. Then at some point I realised that agreements ending the large scale violence, had been in place for a couple of decades now. How time flies! Peace is holding. I thought, Hey I'm big on the importance of leaving the past in the past, let Northern Ireland do the same. Practice what you preach. So I made a conscious decision to come over and treat Northern Ireland as I would any other destination. My resolve wobbled a bit when that poor Journalist was murdered, but in the end, we stuck to the plan as it was.
Friends of ours had returned from a trip that included Belfast and where they included "must do" things like the Black Cab tour. They just shook their head in incredulity and reported that when invited to write something on the wall, one wrote "Be kind to each other" and the other, who resisted and was really pushed to participate, wrote "Fucking stupidity". They still mention in awed shock when discussing that trip that their black cab driver boasted of just burning gypsies out, as though this was obviously the perfectly normal and acceptable thing to do. So I thought. Yeah, I have ZERO interest in Troubles tourism. I have ZERO interest in engaging with any of that. I can visit and I can read the literature and just see the other sights. I laugh about that now. That was never going to happen for me, due to my nature and my interests. I started reading and I found I couldn't really engage on any level with Ireland, whether the Republic or Northern Ireland without engaging with the history. I have to be honest, what I read shocked me to the core. I was hooked. Troubles tourism here we come!
Friends of ours had returned from a trip that included Belfast and where they included "must do" things like the Black Cab tour. They just shook their head in incredulity and reported that when invited to write something on the wall, one wrote "Be kind to each other" and the other, who resisted and was really pushed to participate, wrote "Fucking stupidity". They still mention in awed shock when discussing that trip that their black cab driver boasted of just burning gypsies out, as though this was obviously the perfectly normal and acceptable thing to do. So I thought. Yeah, I have ZERO interest in Troubles tourism. I have ZERO interest in engaging with any of that. I can visit and I can read the literature and just see the other sights. I laugh about that now. That was never going to happen for me, due to my nature and my interests. I started reading and I found I couldn't really engage on any level with Ireland, whether the Republic or Northern Ireland without engaging with the history. I have to be honest, what I read shocked me to the core. I was hooked. Troubles tourism here we come!
My initial research suggested that the one absolutely "must do" thing in Derry is a walking tour of the city walls. Derry has fully intact city walls and this is highly unusual. But which tour? I looked around and came up with one. Derry Guided Tours. They are, or were, the only one that also has a Derry Girls walking tour, so absolutely, we are IN. We LOVE Derry Girls. But we also want to do a walking tour of the Bogside. Reading away on the website for the tours, totally with my guard down, I came across some background that said that our guide is the son of someone killed on Bloody Sunday and I suddenly find myself with tears dripping on my keyboard. A bit of emailing back and forth and we make a deal to do two walking tours, start quite early, break for lunch and then resume with a finish at about two o'clock. We'll do a mix of content, city walls, Derry Girls and Bogside.
We're meeting Gleann at the Tower Museum, Hubby goes to make sure we've got plenty of cash and I amuse myself exploring a lovely little group of shops in what I would now describe as an Entry, assuming you use the same terminology for these spaces as they use in Belfast. This is lovely, I could explore in here for quite a while. Concerned that Hubby has no idea where I am I head back out to the street just at the right time and we walk down the hill to the museum together.
We connect with Gleann and set off via some steps up onto the city walls. We walk along past the gun emplacements with their original cannons still in situ, hearing about the history of the city and the walls themselves. Londonderry is called Londonderry because during the Plantation of Ulster, in beautiful Trumpian fashion, James 1 figured out a scheme to have a consortium of London Livery companies pay to build them. They are still owned by The Honourable The Irish Society to this day, but have been managed by the State since 1955. From a tourist's perspective the walls are pure gold. The fact that they are still so intact is amazing to me and in a moment of particular stupidity born, despite my reading, of profound ignorance of context. I ask how long ago the community recognised the walls as a marvellous asset. Gleann takes my question in his stride and explains that it's only very recently that people have really started to see the walls this way. A lot of people would have been happy to see them go due to the role they played during the civil war. There's terms Gleann, and I dare say many others, choose not to use, "The Troubles" is one of them. Referring to "Northern Ireland" is another. The penny drops. Like some of the castles in Scotland, the walls are so intact because they were in use. Still enforcing the Plantation of Ulster. Until the 1990s some sections of the wall were still restricted access with military patrols along them, so many in the community don't remember that fondly. If I was to record my thoughts at this point, they would probably offend those who don't like foul language or blasphemy. I just find the whole situation very difficult to get my head around, given that this problem has existed so recently in a modern, western democracry.
We head around like this talking about what we can see from the walls, the history over time and related matters. We laugh about particular events or characters from Derry girls and Gleann explains some of the local context that makes the show even funnier. Along the way we get a great insight into the community, the various motivations for entering the church in a society where options were limited. It's all great fun and very interesting.
We look out at the peace bridge and talk about the uses to which the buildings on the far shore of the Foyle were put over time. I ask about the symbolism built into the design of the bridge and Gleann explains that it represents hands across the divide, it's actually two bridges that come together in the middle of the river, like two arms and shaking hands. Nowadays, young people go to events over on the far shore, without knowledge of some of that history of the buildings and grounds there. The community is moving on. Building bridges.
At one point we come to a hollow metal figure. A scupture intended to represent two figures joined together, they symbolise the two major religious communities of the city, represented by the cruciform pose. Gleann points out that the eyes are holes and you can look through from each figure to see through the eyes of the other. Public artwork and infrastructure act as tangible reminders of the need for the community to come together. Learn about and from each other's perspectives. Michael looks through the eyes. I stretch on tippy toes and just manage to gain the required height for the purpose, which makes me contemplate that this may provide a metaphor for the stetch that is required for people to reach beyond their grief and anger, and there is stacks of both on each side of conflict, to build peace where there has been generations of trauma. It's impressive, not just this artwork, but the work the community is doing.
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| Sculpture for Derry Walls by Antony Gormley, 1987 |
We don't stay on the city walls the whole time on this bespoke walking tour. Those who don't watch the show might roll their eyes at this, but probably the most excited and joyful surprise on our tour, was a moment where we walk up the street into a spot where Gleann tells us to turn around. We burst out laughing and smiling. We LOVE It. Nah. Sorry. I just can't say more. If you love Derry Girls and are visiting Derry, just take the tour with Gleann. Doing it the way we have, interspersed with some more sombre subject matter is ideal I think.
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| St Columb's Cathedral |
One day in Derry doesn't come anywhere near enough time to really explore and see all the sights, many of which are pointed out to us as we walk around.
Walking along the city walls overlooking the Bogside, we look down at the murals as Gleann points out landmarks across the landscape below. Cave Hill prompts some chat about Gulliver's Travels and some other famous literary works now considered by at least some academics, to be allegories in one case for the British occupation of Ireland and another, the British Empire. Looks like we have some reading or re-reading to do in those directions.
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| View over the Bogside from the city walls |
As we stop at Free Derry Corner, we discuss the iconic wall. They change the colour of the background fairly regularly, supporting different campaigns and fights for freedom around the world. It used to be on a building but the building was demolised as the road was enlarged. I find this quite extraordinary. I should have thought that the powers that be over the years would dearly love for that to be gone. ... ok better stop there. Do the tour! We watch and talk as others come up to have their photograph taken. At one point a silver haired gent, who seems simply thrilled to be at this place, comes over to Gleann as he walks from the wall and sparks up a conversation. I don't know if he recognised him or what. He's from Co. Cork visiting and he says with some passion and sorrow in his voice and a firm and lengthy handshake "We let you down, we let you down." As we walk around, Gleann gets lots of acknowledgements and a few quick interactions from people we come across. It proved to be an interesting aspect of the tour.
We progress along via the murals discussing their contents and the related events. Looking back up to the city walls, they tower over us in a most intimidating manner. Knowing that armed soldiers patrolled up there and that the residents of the Bogside were not permitted to plant trees because it impeded the view of the military is very confronting. We have seen the view from the walls. Down in the Bogside it must have felt like being a bug under the microscope.
We end at the Museum of Free Derry, running through the symbolic references in the design of the building. Particularly moving is the decorative panel on the side of the building. It's the sound wave from a recording of the marchers singing "We shall overcome" just prior to the massacre on Bloody Sunday.
Finished with our walking tours, we say our farewells and decide to go into the Museum. Manning the desk is a silver haired man whose brother was another of those killed on Bloody Sunday. He welcomes us warmly and we head on in. David Cameron's apology in the British Parliament for the events of Bloody Sunday are playing on a continuous loop on a large screen. There follows footage of the reaction of the relatives of those killed which is particularly interesting following Gleann's discription of the event from a participant's perspective. Moving around the museum consumes the rest of our day. Most of what is presented was a revision for me rather than fresh. Hubby found it all very interesting because it covered the history and events in Derry over a long period leading up to the Civil Rights movement and the slide into warfare. Artifacts on display were also very interesting and moving.
One day spent as we have doesn't do Derry justice, but it's a long way better than none at all. We have found it very rewarding. There's so much to see we have not had time to do. It's a lovely place and we're very comfortable at the Shipquay Hotel, what a shame we have to be off in the morning, but we're not quite done yet. Tonight we have plans.
Our show is not scheduled to start until 8 pm at the Playhouse Theatre. Meanwhile there's dinner to be had. We choose a short list option from the trip manifesto and head across to Nonna's Woodfired Pizza across the street, banking on the early time to make a table available at short notice on a Saturday night. Luck is on our side, though the place looks busy. We're seated at a table down the back and we waste no time making our selections.
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| Breaded Halloumi |
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| Proscuitto E Rucola tomato, fior di latte mozzarella, dry aged Parma ham with fresh rocket and parmesan shavings |
The show is Songs of Social Conscience. We're in plenty of time and need to wait a little while for the doors to open. It's only a very small audience as we file in and select seats scattered around the theatre. The sparcity makes the atmosphere a little awkward. In due course the main man comes out to polite applause and explains that he's set up a keyboard and second microphone in the hope that someone musical in the audience might come down and get involved in the performance. Noone comes forth. The evening we are informed, has been designed as a discussion and group performance involving the audience. The audience's expectations appear to differ. But the audience is the least of our entertainer's problems. We set out on our journey of musical exploration with a backdrop presentation. After a couple of minutes the display shrinks and only a partial image is showing in the top left of the screen. The show pauses as people fiddle about with cords and tape and eventually the presentation is up and apparently cooperating. Our presenter though is rattled. Really rattled. The presentation goes down again and is fixed again and we get along the way awkwardly for some minutes interspersed with no screen and someone at the rostrum fiddling trying to get it going. Eventually this seems successful and stable for a while and we settle in and relax in our mindless optimism. Then gradually, just a few inches at a time the slide being shown starts creeping off the screen to the right. It looks for all the world like it's tippy toing away, hoping noone will notice. Eventually I just can't contain myself a moment longer and explode with laughter. The poor man he looks startled like he can't fathom what on earth has happened to spark this response. I'm saying "Sorry" through tears of laughter. Someone else volunteers "It looks like the presentation is sneaking away" and the room gives way to their own bursting laughter. Oh dear. Poor man, he turns to look and the image is well advanced in it's escape. The show is an unmitigated disaster but he carries on. Numerous appeals for someone in the audience to perform particular songs in his place because he's not good at them fail to identify any volunteers. Eventually a guy in the front row who comes across as a professional musician gets up with a posture of resignation and plays along for a song or two. I feel like I should know who he is but I don't. Eventually the show closes and we head on our way. Holy smoke. I've never spent a more excruciating evening. But none-the-less it's been a fascinating day.
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