Shankill Butchers - The Decembrists

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An Unconventional Shankill Birthday Card

Craig thought I would find this coincidentally funny because of our own Maggie...

Latest News From the Shankill...

So the story is that a few nights ago down this street one guy was asking another guy out of his house for a fight. The guy in the house wouldn't come out so the guy outside started damaging the other guys car. Today just down at the corner of the Shankill and the next street down from us a guy was standing on the corner. Just before 1pm 2 masked dudes walked up to him and shot him twice in the face. Turns out he was the dude who was in the street a few nights ago asking the guy out for a fight. I love this place.lol

Love,
HopAlong

Bloody bandages mark Shankill murder spot in Belfast

Loyalist Pop Songs

As an ethnomusicologist, I am amazed at the masterful renditions of American pop songs arranged in very creative ways to convey West Belfast culture and pride. The most popular is, of course, the masterpiece UVF anthem, a version of Tina Turner's "Simply the Best." But there are other delightful songs such as this remake of a John Denver classic, "Take Me Home Country Roads", elevated to its highest artform. Have a listen.

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...

Picture of the Week

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.

Picture of the Week

Belfast Google Street View (Finally)

Google took its own sweet time getting here. A few weeks ago, Craig rang me on his way to work and saw google cams on the street. He was really excited! Ever since it has gone live, I can't get him off the computer. He's been playing with google maps since yesterday! What a map freak!

I took a glimpse and they couldn't have chosen a better time to show Belfast. On a Sunday when everything is CLOSED!!! Typical. So anyone who is planning to travel to Belfast, make a note that Sunday is when you do FUCK ALL! It's a ghost town by 3PM. Look how dead the Shankill is...


View Larger Map

Now you can walk down the Peaceline without leaving your living room...


View Larger Map

Note: For Internet Explorer Browsers, you may not see the API windows. To view, please click "View Larger Map". This link opens up a new window to take you to the street view page.

Show Me The Way To The Shankill Road

Show Me The Way To Shankill Road - Watch more amazing videos here

Activity Report

Weather: Intermittent pissing of rain

Food: Honey Nut Cornflakes & Milk, 2 Ham and Mustard Sandwiches, a bowl of tomato soup, 1 blue Riband, and a soon freshly baked chocolate fudge brownie

Activities: Sat my ass on the recliner mesmerized by Welsh television, went to the bathroom, Annoyed a sleeping man

Mood: Extremely, mind numbingly BORED!!!!

Shankill Holiday

Here I am again. Back in the Shankill. Craig's mom and family went to Spain for holiday so we are housesitting while they are gone. Oh, how I wish I were in Spain right now. The weather here is so weird. It's dark and gray outside and it's raining mad (alleluia it's raining mad!), but it's so hot and humid. Somewhat tropical. Craig and I are sweating like pigs in heat. "It's like Africa with white people", I say.

We were stressed out earlier in the day. First off, we woke up late. I wasn't feeling well last night. I had some nasty 24 hour bug making me feel like crap. I had the chills and a fever. This time the tables were turned with Craig playing Florence Nightengale. The poor boy had to hop up and down the stairs with a backpack full of soup, toast, and tea. *snicker* Craig decided not to go to sleep because we were to be at his mom's house by 11:30AM. We both woke up around 3PM. So packing became a huge dilemma. Craig was all stressed out and I was just taking it easy (because I'm the one that will have to carry the stuff anyway). We packed all our shit from the kitchen including my spices. I was going to bring our leftover produce and frozen meats to save us on shopping. I asked Craig whether we should put it in the garbage bag and he bitched and moaned saying, "I have no idea. We're going to have to put this in the taxi". UGH! I just about lost it, because I wasn't feeling well for one, and two I always have to make the decisions and doing all the shit in the house. So I went ballistic and chucked everything in the garbage. Craig freaked out and wanted to curl up in the fetal position in the corner.

Luckily, Liam (our new housemate) didn't witness the madness. He came in the house in the nick of time. As a diversion, Craig gave Liam the lowdown on the house and explained the signs we put up around the house. Yes! We put up signs. It was my idea. Especially topping up the electricity and gas because I was sick of Connie freeloading off of us. I created a record log of who put in what and everyone must sign the log. Hopefullly, Liam will follow through and Connie will feel like an ass for not putting in her fair share.

It was a very silent and tense ride to the Shankill. I started to warm up when I saw a birthday suprise waiting for me on the mantle. I got a cute soft teddy bear from his sister, Laura and I got £20 from his mom. Awwww...they're so sweeeeet!!! I dreaded going out in the pouring rain to get ingredients for our dinner (since I threw everything in the trash). I especially dreaded going out onto the Shankill and endure the menacing stares. But I did anyway. I came back and Craig asked what's for dinner. I said chicken fajitas. He opened the trash can. "What are you doing?", I asked. "Aren't you going to chuck it in the bin?", he jokingly says.

Ha. Ha. Ha.

Sidenote: My blog hit the 1,000 mark! Woohoo! Thanks for all your support readers!

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.

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!!!

At Least They're Not Racist...

"Shankill Protestant Till We Die"

"Orange Feet All Over Ulster"

The Difference Between Shankill and Stranmillis Girls

Aye! I'm comin'!

Yes! I am arriving!