I am happy to report that I had VIP access to the Orange Marches . I was in the thick of the excitement....in front of the tv. Thanks to BBC, I didn't miss out on the festivities. But after 5 minutes, I got bored seeing flute band after flute band and lodge after lodge. It's just as well I wasn't there in the thick of things. Otherwise, I would have been confused. The BBC commentary helped answer all the questions that Craig couldn't bother answering because he too is bored of the subject. The Orange Marches commemorate their victory over the Battle of the Boyne where William of Orange (a Protestant) reclaimed the throne of England, Scotland, and Ireland from the reigning Roman Catholic King of England, James II. In essence, the war was a sectarian and ethnic conflict between Catholics and Protestants. For decades Orange Marches symbolized marching into battle and victory over preserving the Protestant reign. It was at the height of the Troubles, where Catholics retaliated against the Protestant imperialistic attitude. For the Catholics, Orange Marches symbolize their defeat. I realize that my explanation is an oversimplification. It is such a web of complexity. But these days, there is still tension in the air. The Twelfth has become a farce to most people here. And The Twelfth is the main reason why they leave Belfast on holiday to Tenerife, Spain, Portugal, Bulgaria....far, far, far away! And those who are still here, stay at home and cross their fingers that trouble doesn't ensue.
Almost every person, they interviewed in the crowd were tourists, none were locals. BBC knew that they wouldn't get response fit for daytime television from a Chav. I guess they wanted to portray an outside point of view to convey the march as a fun "family affair" to spread the hype how Belfast has changed for the better and is now a tourist attraction. Although, what these tourist don't know is that almost every person they saw in the parade today were paramilitary, ex-convicts, and have at least capped someone in the knees, or worse yet, killed someone in their life time. Yes, this is a family affair! Below are some of the outsiders' responses:
BBC: What do you think of The Twelfth?
Woman from New Zealand: I feel uncomfortable about the whole thing since I was raised in an Irish Catholic family.
Woman from Japan: It's rearry rearry ROUD!
Nigerian Woman from London: I had no idea about this. I was just here to go shopping and everything is closed!
Hmmmmm...and what was Craig doing? Sleeping!!! It was the first time ever where he was able to sleep in peace and not be awoken at 7am by the sounds of clashing cymbals and the thunderous vibration of the bass drum.
I am curious what the Catholics do. Feile an Phobail is in the first week of August. It looks really fun and interesting! A week of entertainment in West Belfast! If only I can convince Craig to go. Even though there will be no burning of the Union Jack and it is a non-sectarian festival, Craig refuses to participate by the fact that it is held in West Belfast. If there is one thing about Belfast I hate is this territorial assinine crap. It prevents you from exploring outside your postcode just because it is Catholic or just because it is Protestant. You miss out on a whole lot of the great things that Belfast has to offer. But they refuse to move forward and let go of the past. They say they want to move forward but then again..."Never believe anything Irish people say."
Living in a sectarian society sucks!!!
Showing posts with label July 12th. Show all posts
Showing posts with label July 12th. Show all posts
Saturday, July 12, 2008
Saturday, July 5, 2008
When the Going Gets Tough, the Tough Get Drunk (In Norn Iron)
It's about 6:15AM and I can't seem to get shut eye. I am neither lulled by the pitter patter of torrential rain nor soothed by the ranting and raving drunken lunatic on the street. The makeup marathon sex hasn't seemed to help either. Seems to work for Mr. Crabby since he is snoring away here. So alas, I sit here eating left over chili whilst I type on the interwank.
All is good on the relationship front again. Yesterday Craig got out of work early and texted me to meet him at our favorite cafe. I was thinking, "Oh no, is he going to be breaking up with me over latte?". I see him with a tall glass of mocha and a chocolate fudge cake waiting for me at the table. "Things have been getting a little tense in the house", he says, "I thought it would be nice to take a walk and take advantage of the sunshine." The sunshine is a rare thing here in Northern Ireland and people take advantage of it as much as they can. I have learned my lesson in believing the BBC weather reports because they are never true. They reported torrential rain yesterday and it proved to be the opposite.
We sat and people watched for awhile. Durdles all dressed up and somewhere to go. Friday night is a big night for them. It's the start of the weekend and that means one thing...to get pissed drunk. They drink for recreation and it's to be expected since it's a pub culture. But I never understood getting drunk for pleasure. Where is the fun in acting like an idiot and puking your guts out? Oh well, when in Rome...
We went to Winemark and joined in the festivies. He got a 4 pack of Guinness and I got two bottles of cider...Mixed Fruit Kopperberg. Ahhh...Kopperberg, nectar of the gods! We also got some snacks at Centra, our home away from home. We dropped the stuff at the house and walked along the Lagan Towpath towards Ormeau Road. There was bit of a vibe going with people chillaxing outside the pubs having their pints. Everything was honkey dory until...
We saw flashing blue lights in the distance. Craig lets out a sigh and rolls his eyes and says, "Oh no, here we go, the police". "What's going on I say, is there a riot over there?" "No", he says, "it's a marching band, fuckin' hell". "Oh neat!" I was ecstatic and literally dragged him off his feet to go near the action. Craig is Protestant you see. His immediate family just wasn't into it. Although his extended family are well known super Prods. His aunt was seen on national television beating a priest over the head with an umbrella and telling him to get the hell out of the Shankill. The priest was just walking through there as an effort of solidarity and peace. Madness! Nevertheless, Craig hates what the Orange order marching bands stand for. From November until July 12th they march throughout the streets of Belfast. It's an annoyance really, they block traffic and make people late for work. In case you don't know, the Orange order is a Protestant lodge where super Prods get together and get pissed drunk and hate on Catholics (aka Taigs or Fenians).
We stopped in front of the orange order. I can hear the thunder of the bass drum, and the cracks of the snare coming closer from the distance. Bystanders excited like it's the Macy's Thanksgiving parade. And there I saw upclose and personal, super Prods in orange sashes, stoic and proud to be Protestant and British. Little boys holding their batons in the air and marching like little soldiers. Banners of No Surrender and William of Orange's mug.
Suddenly, the drummers and flutes stop. Everyone stands at attention and sings, "God Save the Queen". They always close with this song to show their allegiance to the Crown. Bystanders shout, "No Surrender!" From the corner of my eye, I see Craig roll his eyes. I ask him why he is ashamed of his culture and who he is. He answers, "As an outsider, you have a naive view of things which is understandable. But having grown up on the Shankill and seen marching bands all my life, I know what this represents. They are a constant reminder of why Northern Ireland became so fucked up in the first place. A bunch of mindless sheep who can't think for themselves. This is not about religion, it's about corrupt power and money. I can guarantee you that every person here is a paramilitary. They don't mess about. I don't want to have anything to do with them. Most of the world thinks this is what defines Belfast, but they are the minority. The majority is most of us normal people who just want to get on with their lives and leave the troubled past behind."
I see his point and I can't argue. And it is way too complex for me to understand. Unionists, Loyalists, Republicans, Nationalist. It's all Greek to me. More than likely, I was the only Taig standing in a crowd of Super Prods. I could feel the hostility and the agression. Just before the parade started, a chavette ranted, "Any Fenian that comes my way, I'll jam them in the face!". If only she knew who she was standing next to...lol.
We headed back home, got buzzed, had poignant discussions on how religion makes you do weird things and how to safely remove yourself from harm when caught in the middle of a riot. Good times!
Anyways. Must. Go. To. Sleep.
All is good on the relationship front again. Yesterday Craig got out of work early and texted me to meet him at our favorite cafe. I was thinking, "Oh no, is he going to be breaking up with me over latte?". I see him with a tall glass of mocha and a chocolate fudge cake waiting for me at the table. "Things have been getting a little tense in the house", he says, "I thought it would be nice to take a walk and take advantage of the sunshine." The sunshine is a rare thing here in Northern Ireland and people take advantage of it as much as they can. I have learned my lesson in believing the BBC weather reports because they are never true. They reported torrential rain yesterday and it proved to be the opposite.
We sat and people watched for awhile. Durdles all dressed up and somewhere to go. Friday night is a big night for them. It's the start of the weekend and that means one thing...to get pissed drunk. They drink for recreation and it's to be expected since it's a pub culture. But I never understood getting drunk for pleasure. Where is the fun in acting like an idiot and puking your guts out? Oh well, when in Rome...
We went to Winemark and joined in the festivies. He got a 4 pack of Guinness and I got two bottles of cider...Mixed Fruit Kopperberg. Ahhh...Kopperberg, nectar of the gods! We also got some snacks at Centra, our home away from home. We dropped the stuff at the house and walked along the Lagan Towpath towards Ormeau Road. There was bit of a vibe going with people chillaxing outside the pubs having their pints. Everything was honkey dory until...
We saw flashing blue lights in the distance. Craig lets out a sigh and rolls his eyes and says, "Oh no, here we go, the police". "What's going on I say, is there a riot over there?" "No", he says, "it's a marching band, fuckin' hell". "Oh neat!" I was ecstatic and literally dragged him off his feet to go near the action. Craig is Protestant you see. His immediate family just wasn't into it. Although his extended family are well known super Prods. His aunt was seen on national television beating a priest over the head with an umbrella and telling him to get the hell out of the Shankill. The priest was just walking through there as an effort of solidarity and peace. Madness! Nevertheless, Craig hates what the Orange order marching bands stand for. From November until July 12th they march throughout the streets of Belfast. It's an annoyance really, they block traffic and make people late for work. In case you don't know, the Orange order is a Protestant lodge where super Prods get together and get pissed drunk and hate on Catholics (aka Taigs or Fenians).
We stopped in front of the orange order. I can hear the thunder of the bass drum, and the cracks of the snare coming closer from the distance. Bystanders excited like it's the Macy's Thanksgiving parade. And there I saw upclose and personal, super Prods in orange sashes, stoic and proud to be Protestant and British. Little boys holding their batons in the air and marching like little soldiers. Banners of No Surrender and William of Orange's mug.
Suddenly, the drummers and flutes stop. Everyone stands at attention and sings, "God Save the Queen". They always close with this song to show their allegiance to the Crown. Bystanders shout, "No Surrender!" From the corner of my eye, I see Craig roll his eyes. I ask him why he is ashamed of his culture and who he is. He answers, "As an outsider, you have a naive view of things which is understandable. But having grown up on the Shankill and seen marching bands all my life, I know what this represents. They are a constant reminder of why Northern Ireland became so fucked up in the first place. A bunch of mindless sheep who can't think for themselves. This is not about religion, it's about corrupt power and money. I can guarantee you that every person here is a paramilitary. They don't mess about. I don't want to have anything to do with them. Most of the world thinks this is what defines Belfast, but they are the minority. The majority is most of us normal people who just want to get on with their lives and leave the troubled past behind."
I see his point and I can't argue. And it is way too complex for me to understand. Unionists, Loyalists, Republicans, Nationalist. It's all Greek to me. More than likely, I was the only Taig standing in a crowd of Super Prods. I could feel the hostility and the agression. Just before the parade started, a chavette ranted, "Any Fenian that comes my way, I'll jam them in the face!". If only she knew who she was standing next to...lol.
We headed back home, got buzzed, had poignant discussions on how religion makes you do weird things and how to safely remove yourself from harm when caught in the middle of a riot. Good times!
Anyways. Must. Go. To. Sleep.
Friday, July 4, 2008
Happy Feckin' 4th.
Independence Day went off to a great start! There were much fireworks in the household today.
First off, I woke up early in the morning to go to the bathroom. On my way there, I slipped down the narrow stairs and cut my wrist on the fire extinguisher! I panicked at the amount of blood coming down the inside of my forearm. Running up the stairs with toilet paper over my wrist, I turn the bedside lamp on. Just as I turn it on, the bulb burns out! FUCK! Craig wakes up and wonders what the racket is. I tell him I fell down the stairs and cut my wrist! He says, "Good One!" and rolls back to sleep. Here I am seething with anger and possibly cutting a major artery and bleeding to death (I didn't it was just a surface wound but I was a drama queen!), he rolls over and goes back to sleep?!?! After I finally found a bandaid, I go on his computer because I couldn't stand to crawl back in bed again. He rolls over again and was like, "What are you doing, it's 6:45 in the morning?!?". "I'm on the computer, what does it look like I'm doing?!?". He rolls back over and goes to sleep again.
After browsing the interwank, I got bored and went to bed. Apparently, I didn't shut his computer down, so he gets up, turns his computer off, and says "You're gonna burn out my screen!" I lay there seething but told myself it's July 4th and I refuse to make this day shitty and make a nice yankee doodle breakfast even though he doesn't deserve it. So I got up and went to Centra hoping to get whipped cream, blueberries, strawberries, and sausage for our pancakes. They didn't have blueberries even though I walk in there everyday and see blueberries and rasberries. Of course! Of course today there wasn't any because I NEEDED them! Whatever!
I go back and make the pancakes. All is well and beautiful in the world again. I set the table really nice. I go upstairs and he's asleep STILL. I seethe again. He gets my goat when he does this because every single time the night before he burns the candle at both ends and doesn't wake up until 1PM and a whole day is wasted! He set his alarm at 9:00AM so we could do things today but he turns it off and rolls over to sleep and doesn't wake until the afternoon! It was 10AM by this time. With clenched teeth, I nudge him, "I made you breakfast!". He wakes up and we give each other a cold stare for what lasted like 3 minutes.
We go downstairs and I was hoping that STACKED fluffy, buttery pancakes and REAL maple syrup would cheer us up and sing to the tune of yankee doodle dandy! But it didn't. He sat there grumpy and sleepy. I asked him in a bitchy tone, "What day is today?!?" He retorts, "Friday." "No, I mean what date is today", I retort back. "July 4th", he says. "What happens on July 4th", I ask. "I go to work", he says. He's on the afternoon/evening this week and I notice he becomes a real grouch and does not allow himself nor anyone around him to have fun because HE has to go to work. The day is a countdown for him where he constantly looks at his watch. I roll my eyes and say, "You know damn well this is an important day for me."
Mr. Crabby pants himself. Can you tell he's really excited about his Yankee Doodle Breakfast?
He takes 3 pancakes and says, "They're stacked!". Then he slathers them with a bunch of warm maple syrup w/ melted butter. Takes a bite out of the pancakes and a bite out of the sausage. His eyes roll to the back of his head and says, "Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm". Then he says, "You were annoying earlier this morning. Banging around the house, making all kinds of noise, turning lights on, and using the computer. You know, SOME people have to get some sleep and go to work." Yes, I was making noise because I fell down the stairs and cut myself on a fire extinguisher, and looking for a bandaid. I couldn't turn on the bedside lamp cuz the bulb burned out. I was making all kinds of noise because I wanted to cook your ass a special breakfast, and I would work if I could but I quit my job to travel 5,000 miles spend quality time with you, you ungrateful *&%&$**£&!!! I thought this in my head but decided to keep it curt and said, "I fell down the stairs and cut my wrist. I could have had blood squirting out of a major artery and STILL you would roll back to sleep." He says, "Yup, I would!!!" I pushed my plate, "I'm not hungry anymore!"
I stomp back upstairs, got into bed, pulled the covers over my head and started crying. Telling myself I want to go home now and this was a big mistake. He was downstairs washing dishes. I hear his footsteps and he gets into bed again. After awhile, I couldn't stand it and got out of bed to take a shower and go somewhere away from him. He was hiding under the covers hoping I wouldn't murder him. Before I dressed to go out, I went on expedia to book my flight home. I booked it for September 4th. I cooled off real quick by then, and realized that what we were doing was petty. We were both at fault. I was being a drama queen bitch and he was being a jackass. And in essence, he doesn't give 2 shits about July 4th. He's not American nor does he want to be! I forgot about that! I looked over to him and realized that the clock is ticking and I don't have much time with him. A month and half will come and go quickly. I hopped into bed again and gave him a big hug. He wakes and kisses me and then we made our own fireworks. Pyrotechnics so mind-blowing that it made you want to hold your hand over your heart, say the pledge of allegiance and sing the "Star Spangled Banner". U--S--A NUM-BER ONE!!!! YEAH! ALRIGHT!!!
In honor of Independence Day, I shall close this post with a pic of a crazy Shankill kid. I don't think he knows what happens on July 4th nor would he care. He's got July 12th on his brain and on his face! Whether it's the 4th or the 12th, same difference. After all, America's founding fathers did descend from Ulster. Fuckin' Right!!!
First off, I woke up early in the morning to go to the bathroom. On my way there, I slipped down the narrow stairs and cut my wrist on the fire extinguisher! I panicked at the amount of blood coming down the inside of my forearm. Running up the stairs with toilet paper over my wrist, I turn the bedside lamp on. Just as I turn it on, the bulb burns out! FUCK! Craig wakes up and wonders what the racket is. I tell him I fell down the stairs and cut my wrist! He says, "Good One!" and rolls back to sleep. Here I am seething with anger and possibly cutting a major artery and bleeding to death (I didn't it was just a surface wound but I was a drama queen!), he rolls over and goes back to sleep?!?! After I finally found a bandaid, I go on his computer because I couldn't stand to crawl back in bed again. He rolls over again and was like, "What are you doing, it's 6:45 in the morning?!?". "I'm on the computer, what does it look like I'm doing?!?". He rolls back over and goes to sleep again.
After browsing the interwank, I got bored and went to bed. Apparently, I didn't shut his computer down, so he gets up, turns his computer off, and says "You're gonna burn out my screen!" I lay there seething but told myself it's July 4th and I refuse to make this day shitty and make a nice yankee doodle breakfast even though he doesn't deserve it. So I got up and went to Centra hoping to get whipped cream, blueberries, strawberries, and sausage for our pancakes. They didn't have blueberries even though I walk in there everyday and see blueberries and rasberries. Of course! Of course today there wasn't any because I NEEDED them! Whatever!
I go back and make the pancakes. All is well and beautiful in the world again. I set the table really nice. I go upstairs and he's asleep STILL. I seethe again. He gets my goat when he does this because every single time the night before he burns the candle at both ends and doesn't wake up until 1PM and a whole day is wasted! He set his alarm at 9:00AM so we could do things today but he turns it off and rolls over to sleep and doesn't wake until the afternoon! It was 10AM by this time. With clenched teeth, I nudge him, "I made you breakfast!". He wakes up and we give each other a cold stare for what lasted like 3 minutes.
We go downstairs and I was hoping that STACKED fluffy, buttery pancakes and REAL maple syrup would cheer us up and sing to the tune of yankee doodle dandy! But it didn't. He sat there grumpy and sleepy. I asked him in a bitchy tone, "What day is today?!?" He retorts, "Friday." "No, I mean what date is today", I retort back. "July 4th", he says. "What happens on July 4th", I ask. "I go to work", he says. He's on the afternoon/evening this week and I notice he becomes a real grouch and does not allow himself nor anyone around him to have fun because HE has to go to work. The day is a countdown for him where he constantly looks at his watch. I roll my eyes and say, "You know damn well this is an important day for me."
He takes 3 pancakes and says, "They're stacked!". Then he slathers them with a bunch of warm maple syrup w/ melted butter. Takes a bite out of the pancakes and a bite out of the sausage. His eyes roll to the back of his head and says, "Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm". Then he says, "You were annoying earlier this morning. Banging around the house, making all kinds of noise, turning lights on, and using the computer. You know, SOME people have to get some sleep and go to work." Yes, I was making noise because I fell down the stairs and cut myself on a fire extinguisher, and looking for a bandaid. I couldn't turn on the bedside lamp cuz the bulb burned out. I was making all kinds of noise because I wanted to cook your ass a special breakfast, and I would work if I could but I quit my job to travel 5,000 miles spend quality time with you, you ungrateful *&%&$**£&!!! I thought this in my head but decided to keep it curt and said, "I fell down the stairs and cut my wrist. I could have had blood squirting out of a major artery and STILL you would roll back to sleep." He says, "Yup, I would!!!" I pushed my plate, "I'm not hungry anymore!"
I stomp back upstairs, got into bed, pulled the covers over my head and started crying. Telling myself I want to go home now and this was a big mistake. He was downstairs washing dishes. I hear his footsteps and he gets into bed again. After awhile, I couldn't stand it and got out of bed to take a shower and go somewhere away from him. He was hiding under the covers hoping I wouldn't murder him. Before I dressed to go out, I went on expedia to book my flight home. I booked it for September 4th. I cooled off real quick by then, and realized that what we were doing was petty. We were both at fault. I was being a drama queen bitch and he was being a jackass. And in essence, he doesn't give 2 shits about July 4th. He's not American nor does he want to be! I forgot about that! I looked over to him and realized that the clock is ticking and I don't have much time with him. A month and half will come and go quickly. I hopped into bed again and gave him a big hug. He wakes and kisses me and then we made our own fireworks. Pyrotechnics so mind-blowing that it made you want to hold your hand over your heart, say the pledge of allegiance and sing the "Star Spangled Banner". U--S--A NUM-BER ONE!!!! YEAH! ALRIGHT!!!
In honor of Independence Day, I shall close this post with a pic of a crazy Shankill kid. I don't think he knows what happens on July 4th nor would he care. He's got July 12th on his brain and on his face! Whether it's the 4th or the 12th, same difference. After all, America's founding fathers did descend from Ulster. Fuckin' Right!!!
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