Back to Belfast...

Sitting in our tiny flat kitchen on Thursday, Jay and I silently munched our lunch and pondered our possibilities for the weekend.

Me: Got any plans?

Him: Nope. You?

Me: Nope.

Munch. Munch. Munch.

Me: Any walks planned with the hillwalking club?

Him: Nope.

Me: Any fun trips being taken by the international students?

Him: Nope.

Munch, munch, munch.

Jay [straightening up]: Hey! Let's go to Belfast!

Me [groan]: Jaaaay. Geoff is going to be so tired of us by now.

Jay: Fine. I mean.. you've been to Belfast and all... but... I mean.. whatever.

Me [sigh]: Fine, I'll ask Geoff if we can go.

And so, I found myself working on my fourth pint at The Globe in Belfast on Saturday evening. A town which I fear I'm starting to know almost as well as Derry.

But despite having traveled there before, Belfast never ceases to measure up.

Jay and I started this voyage by meeting Geoff at Bishop's, by far the best fish and chips I've encountered so far. (And so, quite naturally, the thief and provider of many of the pounds I possess.)

We walked around for a bit, hitting up some of Belfast's superior shopping (I've fallen in love with Primark, a three-story mecca of cheap accessories and sweaters. Granted, the clothes will only last about two months...) and then found ourselves a bit perplexed about where to head next as the sun started to set.

Geoff, ever the good host, suggested we take Jay to Belfast's oldest bar, White's Tavern, started in 1608.

And so the pub crawl began.

At 4 in the afternoon.

White's, however, is the perfect place to start any decent Belfast pub crawl. It's tucked away on a side alley downtown, almost impossible to find if you don't know exactly where to look.

(As evidence of this, the last time we were in Belfast, we searched for the pub in vain for about 20 minutes before asking an old bloke crossing the street...

Ben: Excuse me, do you know of White's Tavern?
Bloke: Yes. [Keeps walking.]
Ben: Um, do you know where it is?
Bloke: Ah, yes. [Continues walking.]
Ben: Right, could you tell us?
Bloke: Oh! Of course! Right you are... You just turn left and...)

Even better than its speakeasy location, however, is that White's actually feels like its 400 years old. To be a must-see on every tourist's map, White's still looks like its just a spare room in a house. It's just a bar in the corner and a handful of old wooden chairs and tables. Portraits on the wall look like they belong in the National Gallery and the lighting is dim and flickering, as if candles still lit the room.

The ambiance was enough that Jay and I spent the first sips of our pints musing on the characters that must have crossed through the doors. It wasn't hard to squint and imagine frilly-shirted gentleman exchanging gossip across the tables or plain-clothed ruffians smacking each other on the back, circa 1895.

From Whites, we went to Kellys Celllars, another aging Belfast pub. But while Whites is hidden away in a city center alley, Kellys looks like its in the loading dock of a number of stores around Castle Court. Apparently it used to sit in an alley off Royal Avenue and then downtown just grew up around it. It feels miles away from the Gucci store across the street, however. It's a dim, multi-room pub covered in republican memorabilia and a thin layer of smoke. At a corner table, four guys played traditional Irish music so casually that we joked it was as if they walked in, sat down with a pint, and said, "Hey, I brought my fiddle. Looks like you've got a flute. Feel like playing a tune?"

As we sat in Kellys working on our pints, we couldn't help but think that it was a bit odd that we were starting our evening so early. Even stranger however was the realization that we weren't the only ones. The pub, in fact, was full and had been since we arrived. Perhaps a Saturday night on the town starts at 4 p.m. in Belfast?

Our next, equally busy, stop was at The Crown liquor Saloon, a former rail hotel turned Belfast's most famous pub. It's certainly the most aesthetically impressive with ornate paneling, mosaic floors, and glossy wooden booths. And it boasts the coolest seating in town -- you can actually close the doors on the booths so that you have your own mini room. But the best feature, according to locals, is the picture of the crown at the entrance to the saloon. It's the only place in town, they say, where you can wipe your feet all over the crown without anyone complaining.

Unfortunately for our pub hopping ambitions, it was crowded and loud so we, instead, went to Fibber Magees next door, a pub which looks like someone's antique-filled kitchen.

Anxious to pace ourselves, we met Mike for some scrumptious Chinese food then headed to York's and the Globe to meet our friend Barry and some of his Belfast friends. Then, it was off for our final destination: The Limelight.

Now, I've never been a connoisseur of music. Or, even, a diligent listener. And I'm never really much for dancing. Yet, somehow, I always want to dance in Ireland. So despite the crowded club floor, the constant, lingering haze of smoke, and the fact that the sweat was practically pouring off my forehead, I jumped around, banged my head, and danced to rock and indie music until about 2 in the morning. Luckily, Jay, Barry and Mike were equally as dance-worthy, thus saving me from the rather large and rather forceful gal who kept beckoning me to the dance floor whenever I stopped to catch my breath.

All in all, it was good times.

The next day, desperate to actually see Belfast after all these trips, Jay and I hit up the Botanic Gardens and the Ulster Musuem. We only had about a half hour in the musuem so I'm desperate to go back. I spent most of my time at a kiosk listening to oral histories from The Troubles. And the Botanic Gardens were gorgeous - much bigger than I expected - so I can't wait to picnic and bring a bottle of wine when it warms up...

(OK, not to drink alone.. I'm not a wino or anything...)