Perspective

I had a really weird experience on the bus home from work the other day.

I was, as I always am, reading a book as we are heading towards City Centre from work when I glanced up to see how far we were. I said, in my head ‘ah, Queen’s Bridge’ and started to turn back to my book. When the Belfast Wheel caught my eye. Now you can see this thing from far and wide around Belfast. But if I was on Queen’s Bridge, the wheel was in the wrong place. “Had they moved it?” I seriously thought. “I mean, if the bus is just crossing Queen’s Bridge, which I know we are, then the Wheel should be to my left. So why is it on my right?”

I seriously sat there and thought about this for about a minute. Until we made a right hand turn and were *actually* on Queen’s Bridge, and not the Syndenham Bypass we were actually on and the wheel ‘moved’ to where it should be.

If someone had held a gun to my head right then and said “Where is the Bus?” I would have told them, no doubts, that we were on Queen’s Bridge and they must have moved the Belfast Wheel during the day.

Perspective. Its a weird thing.

What an American thinks about Belfast…

Overall, I really really like it.

I’ve pretty much liked it from the moment I moved here, with a few exceptions. I am totally *not* enamoured of the lack of customer service (although that is getting better), especially compared to what I was used to in the US. I can understand the apathy, based on Belfast’s history. There was so much tension for so very long, its hard to be cheery to customers, I guess. And I am not really asking for cheery. I am asking for (and this just happened about 2 weeks ago) the tills to be ready to accept payment 45 minutes after the store opened (although that might have been because of the snow we got) and someone available to take my payment at the tills (which happens *all the time*).  Grant the ‘finding someone at the tills’ thing happens in the US.  But I don’t get a face made at me when I ask for help in the US.  Well, not usually.

I think another part of it is that people don’t expect it.  They have received bad service for so long, they just go along with it. And until people complain, nothing will change.

I do really like the people here.  Bus drivers call you love.  People really do say ‘crikey’ and (and this is *very* Irish) ask you what the craic is.

Sometimes you have to watch what you say.  If someone is going to England for something, they will usually say they are leaving the country, even though, technically, they aren’t.  And please please please please make sure you call it Northern Ireland.  Ireland, or the Republic of Ireland, or the Republic, or ROI, is a totally different country to the south.  Some people are still hoping for a united Ireland, but I doubt it will ever happen.  And at least we seem to be past blowing each other up over it.  For the time being, at least.

So…

How does an American get to Belfast? Practice! (and if you get that joke, you may just be even older than I am)

Seriously, I got to Belfast because my wonderful husband Simon is a native of Northern Ireland. He was born in Coleraine, raised in Castle Rock, lives now in Belfast (obviously, since we live together. Soon to be in a NEW FLAT!! (more on that in the coming weeks)).

So how did I meet this Northern Irish man of mine? On the world wide web, of course. No, not a dating site. Actually a site about the Joss Whedon TV show Buffy the Vampire Slayer…….(I’m waiting for the laughing to die down)…..(done yet?)…..

So, anyway, we started ‘chatting’ on the posting board.  Then we started chatting in IM.  Then 9/11 happened.  And Simon ran to the message board and posted a message that calmed everyone down.  About how it happens, how its been happening in his home country for 30 years.  And they had survived and so would the US.  And I fell in love.

3 years later I moved to Belfast. A year after that we were married, in City Hall.

And that’s how an American gets to Belfast.  And lots and lots of practice. 🙂