I began my day with two cups of green tea, not the usual English breakfast of scrambled eggs, bacon, sausage, baked beans, tomatoes, and black pudding. Please note: I usually only ever ate the first three of these, although I did try black and white pudding one day. Since black pudding is basically blood sausage, I could only figure that “white” meant additional plasma.
I felt much better due to sleeping about 9 hours (and the Immodium) and Joyce was also on the mend, so our trip across to Northern Ireland on the ferry was pretty no-muss no-fuss. (This would not be true on our next ferry crossing.) I was intrigued that we rode the bus onto the ferry, along with myriad motorcycles, cars, tractor-trailers (yes, lorries), and other buses. I guess ferries have come a long way since the first wooden boats took people across.
The city of Belfast was…interesting. Quite frankly, the “local specialist” took his job as funny leprechaun too seriously, laughing overly loud at his own jokes, which turned out to not be as funny as he thought they were. My view of the city was thus tainted by this harsh introduction and the harsher remnants of the “Troubles” between Catholics and Protestants. Separating walls in the 20th Century? Sigh. But I guess that’s Israel with the Palestinians as well.
An optional dinner included good Irish stew and some local musicians playing for our supper. Joyce and I both felt good enough to enjoy the meal and our included two drinks (Guiness of course), and we ended the long day there.
MUSOFYR 