My New Hat

I bought a new kangol cap and decided to wear it into work today. As a result, I was the laughing stock of the whole warehouse. They started making French noises and asking me where my onions were.

All throughout the day, people taking the piss:

"Get that off da fuck!"

"For fuck sake take that off! You look like an extra from a Michael Collins movie."

What's the problem? It's just a hat and I like to wear it. Why is this anyone's business? This is what bothers me about people here. They think I'm interested in their unintelligent comments which is typical of Northern Irish people.

They seem to have this inferiority complex and when they see someone doing something that they actually wish they had the balls to do, but because they have no mind of their own and worry what people will say, they attack them and ridicule them. If I see someone wearing something that I don't like or I think looks stupid, I keep my opinion to myself. They're not bothering me by wearing it and it's up to them what they wear.

God forbid you're caught wearing sunglasses after the sun has gone behind a cloud for a few minutes. Oh that's not allowed at all. You're obviously trying to look cool and there's always someone close at hand to hit you with a snide remark like, "I hope we get the weather you're expecting" or "fuck sake take those off it's not even warm".

Do they realize how stupid they sound?

You just can't be different here. It's not allowed. The 'Conform Police' are everywhere and they do a great job of keeping everyone 'normal'. In a way, this attitude does serve a purpose for me. It points out clearly who are the open-minded- think-for-yourself-kind-of-people and who are the small-minded-afraid-to-step-outside-the-'normal'-box-and-actually-be-themselves.

“Poor is the man whose pleasures depend on the permission of another.” -Madonna Louise Ciccone Ritchie

A New Chapter

You're probably asking yourself what the heck happened to my banner. Well folks, I am saddened to report that "Flippin' Yank in Norn Iron" is extinct. In its place is the birth of a new Flippin' Yank and HopAlong adventure...San Fran ♥ Belfast!

As you may have gathered from the last post, Belfast and I have officially broken up. We're just not right for each other. To continue our relationship would be a big fat lie just like Jon and Kate Plus 8. So here I am back in San Francisco for good. HopAlong and I have decided that it would be best for us to marry and plant our roots in California. We've had a year to weigh out the pros and cons. And judging from the whiny posts the last few months, my list of cons keep growing longer and longer. I tried people. I really did. But why continue to wear a pair of shoes that don't fit and make you very uncomfortable? And let's face it, Belfast just really isn't my style.

I like the energy of sprawling urban cities, multiculturalism, diverse neighborhoods, ethnic foods, limitless activities and cultural events. I like it when the sun shines more than 14 days a year. Most of all, I want to be able to walk outside my door and feel like I can be myself and not feel inhibited. Belfast fails to offer me these things. When I mentioned this to HopAlong he said, "It took you a year to figure this out?". What he really wanted to say was, "I told you so." Belfast does have some redeeming qualities. Unfortunately, those quailities weren't enough to keep me there and it's not a place where I see HopAlong and I for the long haul. No doubt HopAlong is ecstatic about this decision because he LOVES, LOVES, LOVES, LOVES San Francisco. I don't blame him. :)

Do I have regrets? A big resounding NO! How many people come to Belfast can say, "I live just a block away from the infamous Peace Line?" That in itself is pretty amazing. I am reminded of this everyday when I see tourists frantically snapping photos of the murals in awe and riding up and down the Shankill with gaping mouths wide open. I have seen an intimate side of life here that most would not have the opportunity to witness, which is definitely not something you can experience on an open-top tour bus or as a student on the insular grounds of Elm's Village. My experience here was one-of-a-kind. Living in West Belfast (as a Catholic in a hardcore Loyalist area no less) was frustrating and sometimes made me bitter. Yes, the streets there still seethe with sectarianism. Sectarianism is alive and well. Nevertheless, I have met and have gotten to know the most kindhearted, generous, warm, and hospitable people I have ever known. Very honest, down-to-earth, witty and a sense of humor that makes your belly ache from laughter. This is what I LOVED most about Belfast! The people. (Well most of them anyway.) I am especially forever grateful for HopAlong's family for taking me in and welcoming me with open arms as one of their own. My heart is heavy knowing that I will no longer hear Big Eva refer to me as her "wee girl."

So what's in store for the new chapter? Repatriation, the complexity of our transatlantic long distance relationship which no doubt will be a true test of resilience, HopAlong pining away for me and crying his eyes out because he's still stuck in Belfast, the dreaded fiance visa process, eventual wedding plans, and much more!

Stay tuned, put on your seat belts and brace yourselves because we're in for a bumpy ride...

Jack The Racist

This morning I got a lift to work with Jack, The Racist. He had a lot to say about the unfortunate Romanian situation in South Belfast, "They shouldn't be here. They're all dirty gypo bastards. They're taking our jobs and our benefits! Serves them right. Serves them right."

I just nodded and paid no attention.

I tried to change the subject and said, "Jack, look at that car!" The car ahead of us had their indicator signalling to the right and it made a left turn.

Jack said, "Aye, must be a bloody Fenian. Fuckin' bastards."

He hates most of the people we work with.

He hates all the managers.

He hates the people he sits beside in the canteen eating lunch (those unfortunate enough to have to sit with him).

He hates all the eastern European temp workers or "Polish Bastards" as he likes to refer to them regardless of whether or not they're from Poland, Slovakia or the Czech.

He's just a grumpy fucker who hates everybody.

YO!

So, I left the house the other morning to walk around the corner to a work mate's house who gives me a lift to work. Half way down the street I hear "YO".

It's 6:30 in the morning and I'm not in the mood to respond to someone who seems to think it's ok to address me as YO, so I walk on. A few seconds later, "YO!". A little louder than the first. On I walk. Then for the third time, louder again. "YOOOOOO!"

So I turned round, there was a short blonde fat woman dressed in pyjamas (of course) standing in her doorway and says in her finest Belfast accent, "Have you any idea what time it is?"

I said, "It's half six."

She says, "right." Then she turned and walked in.

What the fuck is wrong with people these days? When was it acceptable to address people as "YO!"?!!

Excuse me would be nice.