On the road again.

I packed this morning, then went into my placement and said goodbye. I'm really sad to be leaving-- the weather's been beautiful, and I well and truly loved my placement. But I'm really looking forward to seeing Derry again. As Bilbo says, the road goes ever ever on. It's time for me to go on with it.

I've got one more quasi-errand to run now, and then it's off to pick up my luggage and get on the bus to L/Derry. I actually managed to fit everything into my backpack and my new bag, with the exception of one pair of shoes and one jumper/sweater; both of which I donated to a hospice shop on my way to my placement. That's a laudable accomplishment, believe me (the packing, not the donating).

The Spanish teacher I've been working with asked me when I'm coming back. "I don't know," I told her, "but hopefully soon. Maybe gradschool." It seems my gradschool search is expanding unbidden beyond the confines of Canada and the lower 48. I can't bring myself to say goodbye to this place, though. I cannot imagine not returning.

Carrick-a-Rede, Dunluce Castle, and assorted other shinies

Well, another lovely weekend here at the Corrymeela centre in Ballycastle-- I'm going to miss this place. Today, we headed off along the beautiful Antrim coast.

Our first stop was Carrick-a-Rede, a tiny island accessible only by rope bridge. The bridge itslef is much shorter, safer, and lower down than most of the guidebooks suggest-- as I understand it, it used to be far more impressive (or harrowing, depending on how you look at it) before it was rebuilt with safety in mind. But there are views from the island that you simply wouldn't believe. Pictures don't really do them justice, but I took several, so watch this space.

After that, we stopped for lunch and then headed on to Dunluce Castle, which is a remarkably well-preserved ruin when you consider that parts of it date back to the thirteenth century. It, too, is set on an island, but this one's acessible via a nice, sturdy stone bridge. During the Jacobian era, the MacDonald family built a manor house into the sight and extended the buildings onto the mainland to make more room for their many visitors from the Scottish court.

The whole thing's in ruins now, but you can tell how impressive it must have been in its seventeenth century heyday. A cavern running underneath part of it opens right up onto the sea. Another tonne of photos from there should be available soon.

On our way to Dunluce, we stopped at a tiny church that's supposed to be one of the oldest and smallest in Ireland (that claim is quite disputed; some will tell you it's actually less than thirty years old). It's tucked away in a tiny village under a cliff by the sea. After we left Dunluce, our busdriver took us down a lane lined with trees more than four hundred years old. It's been a day for the pretty.

Tonight, we're going out to a nice restaurant as a group. Because our programme director's just cool that way.

Goodbyes and Hellos

It was raining the day we moved to the Walled City. Our bus pulled into a gated drive in front of a huge, Gothic building, and through the tinted windows I could see a carpark at the bottom of a hill. We were called off the bus in pairs as our host families arrived. I stared out the window as the others got up and left.

We had already been on a walking tour of the walls, but I'd never seen that part of the city before. Magee Campus. My campus. What was it like? Would I be happy there? Would my host mom be nice? I stared out the window as the others got up and left, trying to get some sense of this foreign place that was suddenly home.

I remember getting lost, our second day, when we tried to walk into town. We took a wrong turn and ended up in Rosemount. Rosemount, where I'd later go for tin whistle class: up the hill and then thread between the townhouses; mind the puddles on the footpath; don't let the alleys spook you.

In my memory, I can see the carpark on the hill the way it appears at night, when I'm walking back from the computer lab in the wee hours of the morning. I can see the bridge lights above the River Foyle, and the yellow glow against the pale stones of the gothic architecture. That first look, through tinted bus windows to a grey afternoon, is a blur.

It was sunny when we got to the bus this morning. Our host mother drove my roommate and I down Northland Road to campus-- the same route I walk every day. She hugged us goodbye after we loaded our luggage. Around us everyone was chattering about their vacations. And then we were on the bus and on our way. The last drive out of Derry was swallowed up with more vacation chatter. Mark showed me his bike route through Scotland. I talked about the armoury in Leeds.

Two hours later, we were driving into Belfast. We passed under the overpass with the wierd murals of silhouettes on geometric shapes, but it was already familiar to me from visits and travel. Nothing terribly foreign about a city centre I've already explored. I'm already at home here.

It was sunny when we unloaded our luggage and stacked it up in the Corrymeela House foyer. They gave us tea and biscuits while our host families arrived. And then I was off again. My host mother and I discussed CSI and bus passes as we drove along the road that will be my new daily commute. She settled me into the house--lovely, large, and quiet-- and headed off to work.

Hi there, Belfast. Here I am.

Things I learn from airports

A few fun facts I picked up today:

-Buses in England are as wonky as ones in Northern Ireland. Sometimes, they'll decide to just remove themselves from existance for half an hour or more. During rush hour.

-A late bus can make you miss your train. A missed train can make you miss your flight. And no matter what anyone tells you about where the flybe desk at Manchester airport is, you should ignore them. They're probably lying to you because they think it's funny when people run around the entire airport.

-Flybe does not do standby. They also don't let people check in for flights when they still have time to run for it. They'd much preferr charging you eighty quid for a new flight. Sixty four, if you spend a lot of time bargaining and don't mind a 6-hour layover.

-Manchester Airport has a prayer room. It's quiet, non-denominational, and the chaplaincy doesn't mind if you basically spend the whole day there. And it's pretty empty, except for the occasional Muslim who comes in to do prayers (between flights or on their work breaks).

One of these things made me happy. The others decidedly did not. I'll let you figure out which was which.

So today's challenge in the struggle to walk cheerfully over the earth was perspective. On the first count, reminding myself that it wasn't the end of the world, and even if it was pretty much theft on flybe's part, at least I had the sixty quid for them to steal. The second was remembering not to take it out on airline staff, because it wasn't their fault. It was partially the fault of the airport staff who lied to me (twice) about which terminal flybe was in, and partially the fault of the lady who told me the doors were closing in seven minutes when I knew for a fact it was fifteen, but it was not the fault of the ticket counter lady who told me they don't do standby. She can't be held responsible for her company's (idiotic) policies.

Being able to sit in a quiet room for a while made it much easier to calm down, to the point where I was actually able to smile and appreciate the flight when it finally departed (at 5:30; my original one was at ten past eleven). I love flying, really. Airports and airlines notsomuch, but flying itself is pretty cool.

So today's lessons from airports:

-Way really does open, even if sometimes it does it extremely inconveniently, and I should be thankful when it happens, even if I'm pissed off that it shouldn't have had to. Because just when it seems like it's just my day to be mocked by the almighty, I get a prayer room.

-Flybe still loses at life. While there may be that of God in every person, I'm fairly certain the inverse is true of corporations. Especially airlines.

Spring Break

Well, I'm off to England for a few days for spring break. My backpack contains roughly 25% clothing and essentials and 75% books for those papers I'm supposed to be writing. I have no doubt that things will get done, but I wish I didn't have to get them done during 'break.'

Anyway. I'll probably have internet access in Leeds. With any luck, I'll also have interesting things to post about. I hope all's going well with everyone back in the states.

St Patrick's Day, Dublin

Happy St Patrick's Day, everyone.

I personally had a lovely one. I went out before the parade and grabbed breakfast at a little cafe, and then met up with a friend and kept him company while he ate. By the time the parade started I was back at the hostel. I watched from the second floor (first floor, for anyone on this side of the pond, as in 'the one above the ground floor') and managed to get some pretty decent pictures. I won't know if there are any real keepers until I upload them-- sometime in the next few days.

After the parade, I headed over to Trinity College to check out the Book of Kells; a full-color illuminated bible dating back to 800 AD. The exhibit also includes The Long Room; a 60-meter long library room with two floors of stacks and a barrel-vaulted ceiling (put it this way: the Jedi Archives in Star Wars episode II are a direct, futurized and digitized copy). It houses over 200,000 of the library's oldest books; some of which date back to the fifteenth century. There are also a series of fabulous busts, including classic thinkers like aristotle alongside more modern faces such as Shakespeare, Bacon, Locke, and Parnell. There's even one of Johnathan Swift.

I spent the entire afternoon there, and ended up going through the exhibit twice. The first time I got there just ahead of the post-parade swarm, but they ended up catching up to me. There was a big crowd around the book of Kells, and then a fairly loud crowd in the long room. The second time, the place was much emptier. I ended up just sitting in the long room for the better part of an hour, taking in the smell of the books and the beauty of the architecture. Photography wasn't allowed inside, but I suppose that's just as well, because I can't imagine pictures capturing it.

And speaking of things pictures can't capture, the Book of Kells itself was incredible. I've seen shots of it, of course, in textbooks and the like. But they simply can't convey the intricate detail, the vividness of the color, or the sheer weight of history behind the book itself. This book, and the smaller one being displayed with it, were created 1200 years ago. I wonder if the scribes who copied it out and the artisits who illuminated it ever imagined that their work would still be around--and on display, at that-- more than a millenium after their deaths.

I wonder what relics of our time, 12oo years from now, will be left over to speak for us?

This evening, I'll probably go out with friends and try to get some good shots of the Dublin St Patrick's Day nightlife. Tomorrow is the UK Mother's Day. I also got some really good news today about my workload that's going to make it a lot easier for me to finish all my papers.

So all in all, a very good day. Tomorrow, I'll be holding a friend back home in the light during Meeting for Worship. I hope everyone has a lovely St Patrick's Day.

quaker endeavors

So last weekend was the one-year anniversary of Tom Fox's death. For anyone just joining us, I knew Tom through my yearly meeting youth group, and had a lot of respect for him. He aspired to live Christ's teachings with his whole self, and I think he came a lot closer to it than most ever do (though he would probably be the first to correct anyone who suggested that he was perfect, or christ-like).

I think it's the fact that he wasn't perfect that makes him such an inspiration. He was just a man, but he was a good man, and in so being, he became an example. As I said to a friend at lunch today, he was the sort of Christian that I aspire to be.

I'm hoping to attend Friend's meeting later this afternoon. The prayer that I sit with now and will probably sit with then is this: God, help me to respect the divine light that shines through me enough to know that it is its own defender. Help me to let it shine, undimmed by defensiveness, fear, and anger. Help me to set aside those blocks that I have set up in myself that keep me from being the change that I want to see in myself and the world. Help me to be the Christian, and the person, that I aspire to be.

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Dublin continues to be awesome. We took a tour today of the jail where the leaders of the Easter Rising were held prior to their executions. It was a shock to hear the tour guide tell such a one-sided story about Irish independance. I suppose I should expect that-- I mean, when we talk about US history, we rarely ever discuss those that stayed loyal to British rule in any significant or positive way. But coming from up north, where people are always so careful to be diplomatic to both sides when talking about history, it was a bit of a culture shock. I got some lovely photos though. I'll upload them later.

Dublin, Day Two

I think I might have a crush on the city of Dublin. It reminds me of home in ways that really can't be described. It doesn't look like home, neoclassical architecture and low skyline aside. It doesn't sound like home, or smell like it. But somehow it is like it, in all the ways that really matter.

We had a tour of the Dail today. That's the parliament building. It's pronounced 'doyle.' Tomorrow, we're touring a jail. This evening we went to go see Julius Ceasar. The set design was quite really innovative and awesome, and costume-wise, it was cool to see someone at least try to pull off what the original costumes probably looked like-- which is to say sixteenth century doublets with togas on over them. But all in all, I was underwhelmed. I've definetely seen better.

Having the London Programme guys here continues to be awesome. Their group dynamics are significantly better than ours.

There's a meetinghouse not far from where we're staying. I wandered by there yesterday, and the signage suggests that they have thursday evening meeting. I'm getting really excited about checking that out. I've been away from meeting way too long, and with all the Crazy going on, I don't think I'd come out the worse for some worship.

I have nothing witty to say about peace and reconciliation today. I'm afraid you'll have to bear with the travel log for a little while.

Mass picture upload

That drag on the internet you just noticed was me uploading a hundred photos at once.

Included in this batch: Inishowen (sp?), the WWI/II base, the ring fort, a faerie tree, and the waterfall trail, along with assorted beach shots. Also a scrabble match. They aren't sorted (yet), because I'm lazy (also because it's midnight). There's one shot of a waterfall that would probably look better without some wierd girl standing in front of it, but I take what I can get. I'll try to remember to post a few of my favorites up here later.

The mayor, the bus, and the Republic

Greetings from Dublin! The group arrived here this afternoon, and will be staying through Saint Patrick's Day (heaven help us all). The Earlham London Programme arrived in L/Derry on Sunday, and did fun 'hey, we're tourists in Northern Ireland things. It's been wonderful to see them. They're here with us in Dublin now, so we get to hang out with them all week.

Last night, we had a gathering at the L/Derry Guildhall, where we did an Irish dance in front of the mayor, played tin whistle, and ate some food. There were certificates involved. This last gave me yet another exhibit in the hall of 'no one ever get's Annalee's !^£%ing name right,' but we'll leave that alone.

The dancing and tin whistling actually went off pretty well. I didn't fall over during the former, and we managed a decent showing at the latter. There were some students from Milkwaulki (sp?) who joined us for the dancing. After that, they mayor said a few words about how Irish culture is Important, and how it's unfortunate that most people don't know Irish, traditional dance, or listen to Irish music. She then admitted that she's no exception to 'most people.'

We left Derry with the London crew at 10:30 this morning, and stopped for lunch at a town a few miles into the republic at about half after noon before continuing down to Dublin. We're staying at a hostel here that's right downtown, in the Temple Bar district. It's pretty much the nightlife area of Dublin. Mervyn and Bob, the London Programme Director, did a bit of an orientation (including the 'Dublin is a big city so don't be stupid' speech), and then took us on a walking tour of the Temple Bar area to show us the way around.

I must admit to being quite charmed by Dublin. It's a lovely city, and I have a feeling I'm going to thoroughly enjoy the visit. I'm rooming with Iona and some really awesome people from the London Programme. And hey, free wireless at the hostel. Beat that.

Things I'm especially looking forward to:
1. The Book of Kells. It's the oldest illuminated bible in the world, and let's face it: I'm a geek about these things.
2. The Trinity College Library in general. For one thing, because of the awesome. For another, because it was the inspiration for the look of the Jedi Archives, and let's face it: I'm a geek about these things.
3. Touristing around the cool historical sights. Because of the pretty.

I've got an ungodly number of photos to offload from my camera, so those should be up soon. And of course I hope to take many more while I'm here.

Belfast, again

Yesterday was the whole-group excursion to Belfast. We got a nice tour of town hall (quite a pretty building), and then did a bus tour of the murals on the Falls and Shankill roads. Those are two major centres of republicanism and loyalism in Belfast; located within a few blocks of each other. There's a 'peace wall' between them, which is to say a very large fence. I imagine anyone truly dedicated wouldn't have much troube circumventing it, but it apparantly does an at least passing job of keeping young people and drunks from making rash decisions about trouble and the starting thereof. The wall itself has a few murals on it as well.

Many of the murals are really pretty and well-done. And while there are still certainly a lot of murals about the NI political situation, a lot of the more recent ones are about other subjects entirely. One depicted George W. Bush sucking out of a straw that fed into the mural next door: an oil field. Another was of Frderick Douglass, who, it claimed, was inspired to escape slavery by a pair of Irishmen. I seem to recall seeing a 'Where's Wally?' one somewhere along the route as well (Wally is apparantly this side of the pond's younger, hipper answer to Waldo). There was one of an American flag with writing on it, but I didn't see what it said because we drove by too fast.

After the tour, we were left to our own devices in the city centre for a few hours. I spent the time walking around most of the places I'd already walked on Wednesday, but it was fun. Aformentioned diner (actually a cafe) with the bad food was called Blinkers. Walked past it; didn't go in.

I did find the comic book store, thanks to a new friend here in L/Derry who comes from Belfast. There was much rejoicing.

The Interview

So I went down to Belfast today for my interview with the headmaster at the integrated school*. Everything went very well, and I'm glad to report that I do in fact have the internship. The school itself is quite lovely as well. I'm sure I'll get on well there. There happened to be a student doing his GCSE in home economics today-- which means he had to cook a complete meal. I got to taste it because I was walking around with the headmaster, and let me tell you, this kid was good. Excellent onion-basil gaspacho, and an absolutely fantastic desert thing that consisted of fruit, chocolate, maple syrup (imported from home sweet home, apparantly), and vanilla yogurt. Oh my heavens, the yum.

Belfast itself was pretty awesome, for what I saw of it. I spent quite a while wandering around near the bus station and city hall. It reminded me of an odd cross between Cleveland and Baltimore, with the aesthetic of the former and the 'lived-in' feeling of the latter. I'm really hoping that the diner I ate at was a fluke, though, because the food was pretty freakin' aweful. I ordered a tomato-cheese sandwich, and they made it with what had to be kraft singles. Yeuch.

I'm definetely going to enjoy living in Belfast, though. It's my kind of wretched hive of scum and villany (wait, Richmond's the scum and villany. Belfast is... I don't know, Corellia? They build ships on Corellia, right?).

Anyway. Best wishes to all. With any luck, there's a computer waiting for me at home.

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*I'm intentionally declining to name it. While I'm generally pretty fast and loose with my own identity on the internet, I don't want to pose a security risk to the school or its students.

Starstuff

So this weekend was a group retreat at Corrymeela. The weather was lovely the whole time, and we got to take a lovely hike down a waterfall trail. I took a lot of pictures, but as I still have no functioning laptop, I'm afraid they'll have to wait.

I've been feeling a little down because of interpersonal issues I don't want to get into, but things are looking better now. I took a very long walk on Saturday night, and wound up sitting on the side of the road with my back to a sheep field looking up at the night sky. The stars here in Ballycastle are incredible, because you can actually see them. I can usually pick out Orion, but on Saturday I could see his bow. I could see his head. I could see an odd sort of faint streak in the sky that may or may not have been the milky way.

When the universe began, stars were born of gas and dust. That same dust formed planets, and one of those planets formed us. So to paraphraze Marianne Williamson, Who am I not to be intelligent, beautiful, talented, and worthy of respect? I'm starstuff. Other people don't have the power to diminsh the divine light of creation that I have inherited from the universe itself. Unless, of course, I give it to them, and who am I to do that?

I've got a few things to say about the upcoming elections, but I think I'll spare it for another post. I hope the weather Stateside isn't too unbearable.

Visiting Donegal

We took a group trip to Donegal last Sunday to visit an ancient ring fort, an old WWI/WWII base, a beach, and a pair of cute little towns whose names I forget entirely. I snapped a bunch of photos, but I'm experiencing a spot of significant computer trouble so I can't share them yet.

The inside of the ring fort was closed due to renovations (yes, renovations. I don't know either). I had a good look at the outside. Very sturdily constructed, I have to say-- even after all this time, it's not at all in ruins or anything. It looks like it could have been put up ten years ago. I'd like to go back sometime when the inside's open, but I don't know if that'll happen before I leave.

The base was a British base during WWI, and during WWII the Irish used it as a defense point to keep warring nations from violating their neutrality. I snapped some neat pictures of gun posts and other military fortifications, but what interested me most was the ghost-town remains of the base's living spaces.

The barracks, the bathhouses, the mess hall... little if any effort has been made to preserve most of them. They're just falling slowly to shambles with the passage of time. To walk through them is to walk through the ruins of a life two and three generations gone. That's why I found it so fascinating. I can imagine the lives lived in those corrugated metal buildings. When I look at the piles of rotted wood that were once front stoops, I can picture the people who might have gathered on them. In the empty twilight beyond the broken barracks windows, I can imagine the sounds of people stumbling out of bed and muttering at the bugler. What's left of the canteen makes me wonder who prepared the food here, and how they answered the inevitable complaints.

Like the historical costumes I'm so fond of, these ruins make up a 'left-handed' history. There's no denying that wars and powerful, famous people were a part of it, but the heart of this history is working people. It's the history of enlisted men. Of cooks, mechanics, musicians, clerks, and nurses instead of generals and politicians. The history of the people behind the uniforms.

Many of the people who were sationed there are dead now. Those shambling, overgrown buildings speak for a part of their life in a way that history books never will. It's chilling, in a way, to see them in such ruin. I don't know if they'd carry the same weight of history if they'd been taken care of, and yet it speaks volumes about the present that no one saw fit to preserve them. I suppose I'm not the only one who's taken an aweful lot of pictures, though. In that way I suppose they're preserved after all.

We didn't dawdle long on the beach, and we certainly weren't fool enough to go near the water (cold!), but I got some lovely pictures of the rocks and of my groupmates. The towns proved useful for acquiring batteries and ice cream, but mostly they were just towns. They reminded me a bit of Ballycastle.

The rest of the week has been fairly uneventful, computer problems aside. My fiction writing has gotten a bit sidetracked, but hopefully I can get back on task once I get my laptop back up and running (early this week, hopefully).

First days, first impressions.

Greetings from Northern Ireland!

Posting may be spotty for a week or so because internet access is infrequent. My apologies for that, but I've only got touristy travel log stuff to say until the program starts anyway. Not that travel logs are bad or anything; I'm really quite fond of them. It's just that the program itself is really fascinating. I'm hoping that it will generate content here that's a lot more substantial than a 'where I've been and what pictures I've taken' sort of blog.

Having said that, I've mostly only got 'where I've been and what pictures I've taken' for you so far. Mervyn, the program director, picked us all up from the Belfast city airport on the ninth and took us to the Corrymeela Reconciliation Centre, where we're staying until Saturday. Corrymeela is the largest Christian peace centre in Northern Ireland. It's perched up on a cliff overlooking Ballycastle-- absolutely gorgeous. Pictures can't capture it. I haven't even tried. Just trying to give you all a sense of the variations in the color of the water would take up five gigs. There's a pair of lighthouses on the island across the water from us. The whole place reminds me of Maine.

Anyway. Yesterday (the tenth), we slept late and then went out to the Giant's Causeway-- the so-called 'eighth wonder of the world.' It's a volcanic rock formation on the northern coast. We were warned it always rains on that trip, but the weather was absolutely gorgeous. Chilly but not freezing, and blue skies the whole afternoon. I had a fabulous time. The site itself was beatiful, but I especially appreciated the chance to do a bit of hiking. Not much by any means, but it was good to get up and walk after a whole day of sitting on airplanes and at airports. I'll post pictures as soon as I shrink them down to a decent web-size.

We took a walking tour of L/Derry today-- that's where we'll be until the end of March. There wasn't much time for pictures, but I figure there'll be plenty of time for that while I'm living there. The tour did take us right past my placement, though: I'll be working at the Playhouse in the walled city. It's a small theatre that's being run by a mixed group of Catholics and Protestants. It was nice to get a look at it (we didn't go in, but the door was open. Big pile of fabric inside. Maybe they'll let me sort it :D).

I also fell in love with the craft village. It's a small neighborhood inside the walls that's been deliberately styled after 18th century streets. The street level is full of small craft stores; the second is modern apartments that are intentionally rented out to young people from both sides of the religious divide. As I understand it, it's the only actually integrated neighborhood on that side of the river. Really it's the look of it that fascinates me, though. The architects and designers did a fabulous job-- it was like stepping into a time warp. I'd love to do a costume shoot there sometime.

We did a walk of the old wall as well, and heard some interesting facts about the course of the troubles in L/Derry. It's such an odd match-up, because on the one hand, it's an entirely modern city that looks completely at peace. Most parts of it look like they could be somewhere in Boston or Philly. And then two blocks away there's Real IRA graffiti (on the side of the Apprentice Boys house*, no less). There's a Protestant unionist neighborhood right near the Playhouse-- the only one on that side of the river. It's fenced off with barbed wire. The curbs and sighposts are painted red, white, and blue (the colors of the union jack, a ripped and tattered version of which flies over the house nearest the wall). There's a big mural, black with white lettering, declaring their intent to 'Never Surrender the West Bank.'

English lettering aside, it looks like it belongs in Palestine.

The walking tour ended at the Guild Hall, where we met the mayor of L/Derry (again, pictures once I shrink them). She met us in the council chamber and talked to us a bit about the current political situation (elections are apparantly back on for the seventh of March; Sinn Fein and the DUP** are not pleased). We've been invited back to come play pennywhistle for her once we learn.

After that, we went over to UU to register. They got some of my vitals (namely, birthday) way wrong, so I don't get me 'real' card until Monday at the earliest. This might make internetting a challenge. We'll have to see.

We had to face a squall on our way into the building-- rain blowing right in our face and the wind against us. I ran straight for the door, but heavens, what a workout! When we got out: blue skies. I'm noticing that a lot here. People talk about how it rains every day, but it only rains for maybe an hour at a go before the sun's back out. I much preferr it to Maryland, where if you wake up to rain, it's pretty much a garantee that the weather will be gross all day.

I'm back at Corrymeela now with just a few minutes to spare before dinner, so I'm going to see what I can do about these pictures and then head off. I may post them up later tonight if I get the chance. I'm sorry this entry's gotten so long! I'll try to post shorter entries more frequently as opposed to longer entries less frequently in the future. I imagine that will get easier once classes begin.

I hope everyone's having a lovely new year!

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*The Apprentice Boys is basically a protestant men's club, named after a group of apprentices who shut the gates of the walled city against James II's catholic army. Every December and August, they do marches around the wall to commemorate withstanding the seige. The march has gone off peacefully for the last nine years, but the Catholic community doesn't like it much, to put it mildly (The IRA blew up a column on which the marchers used to hang and burn the effigy of a historic figure they consider a traitor some years back. They now burn the effigy in front of the courthouse).
**Sinn Fein and the DUP are the two largest parties for the Nationalists and Unionists, respectively.