You are so delighted and for me? Just Belfast! – or the first part of my Irish trip.

Translated by Dawid Pieper

Hey hey!

I've been being tormented for a few days, for the rest I've been tormenting myself as well, to write this entry, because if I do not, I will forget again and I will not write at all, and that would be a pity.
On Saturday, I came back home at about 02:00 P.M., I got to eat so ate, I lay down on the couch and missed an hour and a half. Then I was able to communicate with humanity, but not yet enoughly to try writing a post. The next days I ought to have made up my mind what to read and what to do. It was a difficult decision cause for the first time in my life I left the end of the school year and it did not really reach me that I already had holidays. My brain existed in the state of "you must read "Lalka", you must read "Lalka"!". ("lalka" – one of the set books in Poland, usually in the second year of highschool)
It was a hard pill to swallow to take care of anything else, but eventually I managed to convince myself that yes, I could rest for a moment. So I went back to Chmielewska to reset my brain. (Joanna Chmielewska – Polish writer, I used to call her style in writing "comedy crime fiction". By profesiion she was an architect.) So I read, I read, I stumbled along the way to paint a three-quarters square meter board. I started reflexively counting, how would this board look like, somewhere in my reasoning path, the square root of three came out (and what would that three be supposed to be?, perhaps meters), and divided by two… how much is the root of three meters? That was the first moment when I caught on to that I should probably do something useful, because my brain was not doing very well. And, of course, it suddenly turned out that everyone was burnt and smoked, that I had no plans, and I had to plan, probably to practice, and I did not do it anyway… And then I found a book about Sheeran. Well, how could I write a blog post with all such a shock? But now it's high time to give it a whirl. And it was like that.

Once, during a lesson, history I reckon, the teacher came to us and said about a language exchange, or rather a language course abroad. I do not know why, but I got the idea right away. Although I was sure that I would be afraid, and besides, that some money would be spent for it. Then there were various conversations, forms, further forms, labeling in health rubrics, that I do not take permanent drugs, but I have so-called. visual problems, and finally a leveling test, to be assigned to groups. It passed somehow quickly, at first the deadline was 2 months, and then out of the blue… a week. Checks up to the fifteenth June, school grades issued, everything cursed and we were going, or rather, flying.

I went to Northern Ireland on June 16. It was on Saturday, at an ungodly hour, I remember going out at three-fifteen A.M. and loading my mate's grandfather's car, which took me and my mother to the airport. I, not really knowing what would happen next, in the front seat of Ada, expressing her opinion on the hour and mum, trying keeping the conversation going… amazing picture. I had a small ryaner suitcase, a backpack borrowed from my sister to carry it to school… and all that much. The most important thing – not to forget any cables.

In a country where dinner is eaten for supper and vice versa, in which people drive on the wrong side down the street, in a country where the principle of using streetlights is: green, go, red… look around and go. .. And finally, in a country where the weather is as though someone in heaven turned on the shower, and then forgot about it… I was going to spent the following week in such a country.

For your information, being in London last year, I have not seen rain at all. Well, maybe once, for three minutes, when coming back and literally passing from the airport to the plane. And it was not a downpour. Till I came there, I had not able been to experience all around that so advertised English weather.

By the way, English. I must admit that I did not really know if I was allowed to like the British there. Well, because you know your tastes along the way, and the other side of the coin is that you fall in love with the culture of whole islands, it's a bit like being friends with a lovingly divorcing marriage. However, it soon turned out that I was lucky.

Websters, the great people that I will introduce you later, are half and half, which means that, favorably for me, Bernie is from Ireland, since Tim from England. You could not get any better, you can admire with impunity both Galway and London. :p

After landing, we immediately went on a tour of Belfast, which, considering our state of mind and body, was quite a feat. I like very much the memories of the airport when I asked, somewhat irritated, standing over the suitcases.

– Professor, are we waiting for the other shoe to drop?
– I think so. – the teacher replied, with compassion.
– Oh, in that case, I pay no heed to ye, but I'm going to eat.
It took us a while to pull ourselves together after passport control, seek out and take the luggage back, to eat and to go to the bathroom on the way, finally to catch the sight of the way out and the bus. The whole group, of course, came to the bus from the wrong side. Several times. It was pure luck that the driver had a good mood.

After mentioning the initial "good morning, how are you," etc., the time has come for more complex questions.
– Do you understand the Irish accent? the bus driver asked cheerfully.
– Yyyyyyyyyyy…. – Yeeeee… yes… more or less. – Yes, it was possible to interpret the whole group's answer.
– So, just like me, I do not understand either. I'm from Scotland.
– Wonderful! The first difficulty behind us.
It turned out that the driver was born in Ireland, but he was brought up in Scotland, which made him tell to the truth curiously, especially when he did not turned to us, but for example, to the honking drivers. He also was telling us about murals and places worth to visit in Belfast, because apart from being the driver he was also our guide.
During our free time, together with several people from the group, we went for coffee. I recall our state of mind. Good coffee – something that we were not able to stint on.

– Come on, we'll take a picture! – Roxana, who was and is the star of our group, called. – Wait, we have to find someone who looks as if he or she wants to help us. Oh, may it be she! – Roksana, without hesitation, accosted a girl of our age and asked in English if she would take a picture of us.
– Yes, clearly, no problem. What are you doing here?
– We're at school exchange.
– Oh, it's cool… some pleasantries, and finally this magical question…
– Where are you from?
– From Poland.
– Aaaa, wait, I'm from Poland too! Surprise…?

Interestingly, Martyna was shopping around Belfast and such with us for the next hour and a half,. You are not likely to read this, but thanks for being our private guide, photographer and travel companion.
Best text: Jesus, you are so delighted, and for me, just Belfast! 🙂 I know what's going on.

In Belfast, we visited also the Titanic museum and… I would say that. If anyone is captivated by this topic, very good. You can see all those technical drawings, construction stages, etc. Although… firstly, not for the uninitiated, secondly, certainly not very much for the blind. Screens, drawings, presentations, even interactive ones, but so what? The other thing is that we would have probably got more out of it if we had slept more. Coming out of this building, we all only dreamd of reaching quite comfortable armchairs on the bus. To the city of Derry, however, the way is long.

I will leave you, dear readers, on the bus heading for Derry. The next part of the trip I'll describe in the succeeding post. I just wanted to start to get myself to write on. I will not leave it unfinished now. :d So I invite you to express interest or disinterest for the next part, maybe what you would like to know, and I will be writing it successively. 🙂

Best regards.

PS Next part probably will appear tomorrow.