As soon as we landed in Belfast, Saira and I were drinking. I can't explain this. In normal life, we're hardly great quaffers, and we abhor - no, really - the dominant role alcohol occupies in others' lives. Nevertheless, within five hours of setting foot on the Tarmac of Belfast International, we were drunk. And the way we got drunk, I think, tells us a little about the kind of city Belfast is today.
We started with good intentions, we really did. We had booked in for lunch at a restaurant called Ta Tu (sounds like "tattoo", and is one of the "new breed of Belfast brasseries" which is said to be helping Northern Ireland reinvent itself from war-torn province to hip weekend-break destination. Big chairs, modern industrial chic, chewy fishcakes, desserts with chillis on - it's that fashionable. Anyway, tired from the exhausting flight (any excuse), gin and tonics and wine helped make us perkier. But we wanted to see a bit of Belfast. We walked into the city centre - marvelling at how small the town is, to occupy such a huge space in our political landscape.
We bought some books and some trinkets, we had a look at City Hall and Queen's University, which was near our hotel. But it was Saira's 30th birthday and we thought, to hell with it, who cares if it's still daylight, let's have some Guinness. Let's have a look at this craic. Let's put the "fast" into Belfast. First stop, then, was the famous gas-lit Crown Liquor Saloon, on Great Victoria Street, opposite the Europa Hotel (famously, the most bombed hotel in Europe). It's beautiful, with ornate Victoriana on the outside and cosy snugs for those secretive moments (though make sure you dodge the roaming webcam).
Other favourites were The Morning Star (renowned for its food) and Kellys Cellars which, the barman told us, is Belfast's oldest pub, founded in 1720. Rather to our disappointment, there wasn't much discussion of the peace process in pubs, where pints seemed much more the point than politics. In fact, our English accents seemed profoundly uninteresting to most people we met. (Except, that is, for the Falls Road pub we entered, unaware of its reputation. In there, some drinkers turned their backs when they heard we were from England - although within the hour they were refusing to let us buy our own Guinnesses and proposing all kinds of things: eating, "lerrrvin", moving with them to New York.)
Another interesting thing was the Guinness issue: we often found that we were the only people drinking it. Perhaps this could be seen as an expression of anti-Dublin sentiment; but it was the Falls Road where it seemed least popular. There, the hardest men were drinking brightly- coloured alcopops, forever divorcing the link between hardness and density of drink. Afterwards - yes, we still had some energy - Saira and I went to some clubs. First Robinson's, famous for its "mixed clientele" - which must have meant mixed communities and not ages, because the age range was about 18-19. Which is fine, for many.
Next, we went to a place I really wouldn't recommend and probably shouldn't name since all the clubbers appeared to have been sniffing glue. We had most fun at the unbelievably hip Shine (we think it was on University Road), where we danced until the sun came up. And then we went to bed. After a first day like that, you might forgive our fragility and caution next morning - especially when presented with a majestic Ulster Fry (the recipe for this seems to be: take some foodstuffs; deep fry; fry again). Slowly, carefully, we set off to see some more of the north.
In the pouring rain (I know it's a cliché, but Saira and I have been to Ireland together four times and each time it has rained incessantly; we credit this with why we always have an exceptionally brilliant time), we drove to Derry. We loved the place, with its narrow streets and elegance, and cursed our hangover-induced late arrival. We walked around the walls to the sound of traditional Irish music flooding out from the pubs.
Testaments to Derry's troubled recent past are everywhere: the Bloody Sunday Trust, on Shipquay Street, with films, photographs and documents, is a permanent and sober memorial to the 13 civil rights protesters shot dead by British soldiers on Bloody Sunday in 1972; the murals in the Bogside and "You Are Now Entering Free Derry" sign are powerful reminders of the city's unique position in the history of the Troubles. (As are the signposts from Belfast to Londonderry: some spraypaint out the "London", others the "Derry", depending on whether the Tricolour or Union Jack is flying from the lamppost in that town.) The Bloody Sunday Trust, often staffed by relatives of the murdered, can give you directions on how to get to the Bogside from the city centre - it's a five-minute walk.
After a good sleep, we set off the next day for some of Northern Ireland's natural delights - first stop, the Giant's Causeway. This was brilliantly weird. Thackeray said of it, "When the world was moulded and fashioned out of formless chaos, this must have been the bit over - a remnant of chaos." It's impossible not to love such a freak of geology, though watch your step - particularly if it's pelting with rain, as it was, of course, for us. The Causeway was the work of a giant called Finn McCool - crazy name, crazy guy - who built it for his girlfriend, she-giant Staffa, so she could walk across from her home in the Hebrides. It's a great walk, and the air is wonderful.
For lunch, we stopped in Bushmills, near to the Old Bushmills Distillery - the oldest whiskey distillery in the world. (They let you have a taste, which is great on a chilly day.) And, despite the weather, we kept pulling over the car to take in the gorgeous Antrim coastline, very bright and very blue. (Murlough Bay is particularly lovely.) We really wanted to try the Carrick-a-Rede rope bridge, too: a bridge, made from rope, which suspends you over an 80ft chasm and out to sea. It's particularly famous because, now and again, some insane people choose to get married on it. Sadly it was closed because of the wild weather, but everyone says it's a trip.
On our last day, we wanted to spend a little more time in Belfast. There is more, we said to each other, to the city than venues to get drunk in. Beyond the craic. First, we ate well at the charming Deanes Brasserie on Howard Street. Then, we got in touch with Black Taxi tours, a brilliant company with equal numbers of Catholic and Protestant drivers. (They ask you to guess which they are, at the end.) What followed was a truly extraordinary tour of the city, and one which I'd recommend a visitor to take from the moment they arrive. (Really - don't do what we did and leave something this good to the end.) Our entertaining, thoughtful and well-informed driver took us along the mural-laden Shankill Road (this the day after a shop had been bombed as part of a loyalist feud, a day when Protestant black cabs were too frightened to drive down the Shankill and, in an unprecedented move, were being allowed down the Falls instead); along the Falls, to compare the Catholic murals (including an extraordinary one featuring a poem by hungerstriker Bobby Sands); to Milltown cemetery, where many IRA men and women are buried. The tours are tailor-made to your interest, and I can't think of a better tour I've had anywhere.
We were due at check-in, but a final pint was in order - a particularly creamy one at the Crown. And then another half - just to prolong our time in Belfast. This had its consequences: we had to dash to the airport, and squeezed into our seats with moments to spare. It was fascinating as well as fun; we got an education, as well as a skinful. Pretty much a perfect weekend, I'd say.
Way to go
Katharine Viner travelled to Northern Ireland as a guest of the Northern Ireland Tourist Board. She travelled with British Airways from London Heathrow to Belfast International. For reservations call 0845 7733377. Prices from £157.30p return including tax.
In Belfast, she stayed at Malone Lodge Hotel in Belfast. Double rooms cost £105 per night including breakfast during the week and £85 per night including breakfast basis at weekends. On the Causeway Coast, she stayed at the Londonderry Arms in Carnlough. Double rooms cost from £80 per night including breakfast. For further information on holidays to Belfast and Northern Ireland, contact the Northern Ireland Tourist Board information line on 08701 555250, or consult the website at www.discovernorthernireland.com . Black Taxi tours: 028 9064 2264/07860 127207 (www.belfasttours.com).
St Patrick's Day special
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