Belfast City: Looking Deeper *updated*

Yesterday I went into the city by myself. The lady I'm staying with took her son and I with us into the city and dropped us off at the bus station so that I could know where it is to get back to the house. Her son showed me around a bit and then took off to meet his friend. I did some walking, and realized that I actually 'feel better' in a larger city rather than a smaller one, even though I've got issues being in a large crowd. Something about cities just feels safer, more encouraging - which is weird, since there is a lot of tough stuff that can happen in inner cities. I was in Belfast City Centre, sort of by Queens University (I think), though I didn't too much exploring. I have a fear of getting lost, so I didn't wander too far from where I was dropped off. I did get to see Belfast's gorgeous City Hall, though. I found a coffee cafe and sat and wrote for about 4 hours - nothing too brilliant, just reflection and on some memories.
Something I really enjoyed about the City Centre was it's means of getting around. Public transportation in Europe really rocks (aside from it being really expensive). You can (if you've lived here long enough), tell to what part of the city a bus is going and how far by what it looks like (for example, those bright pink double deckers are city buses, and they don't leave the city area - though I don't know what that would be; Seattle's equivalent might be the 'Ride Free Area', Denver's might be, in part, Colfax and Colorado Blvd, if I remember right...). The little window where Seattle's buses have the number and the destination include all of that, but they also include the time the bus left it's station (either Europa or Great Victoria Street) so you can tell when the next one of its kind will leave, if you really know you're stuff. Apparently I've also captured the essence of getting around on foot. Jay-walking is actually a necessity around here if you want to get anywhere, which is dangerous for people like me who (still) look the wrong direction when attempting to cross the street.
I managed to find my way back to Saintfield on the bus, and in the process, stumbled upon the "most bombed" hotel in the world (which might be why I've heard of it: the Europa Hotel.
I've also noticed that I take a lot of "street" or "path" shots. I think what it is about these sorts of pictures is that I like the symbolic representation of a "journey" in a path or street. Plus, I also think that, in many cases, looking at long stretches of road or street in a city can tell you a lot about the character of it. In general, the streets of London, Dublin and Belfast have a lot in common - the best way I can describe it, as an American, is that they are all "European." I think what I mean by that is that the buildings, at least to me, seem generally older and more intricately designed. I remember this the last time I was in Europe, too. I remember that being something I really liked about Europe - it's oldness, it's history. Six years ago, when I toured Western Europe on a concert tour, I remembered feeling safe precisely because of the oldness - like, it's more solid because it's been around a lot longer.
Anyway, so this is a street shot of Belfast. I think there is typically more activity going on for a Wednesday afternoon - well, there would be in Seattle, I think, it could be different here, obviously. What caught me about this is that there are a lot of newer buildings - mostly offices and shops, I think - and then, in the middle of all this progress and commerce there is, what seems to me, anyway, an older building. It's the Operah House, apparently. And I love that they've preserved it smack dab in the middle of what probably was a lot of renovation and remodeling. I feel that a lot here - there are a lot of newer buildings in Belfast as opposed to London and Dublin, but even still, there is a sense of protection around history. In terms of religion (Catholic vs. Protestant), it's about the preservation of story, the differentation necessary in identity, and the pride (in the good way, if there is such) what makes you "you" and us "us".
Something else I loved seeing while walking around was the authentic expression of compassion by a group of white-shirted interpretative dancers. There were about 8 of them, and what caught my attention was their leader: a very Irish man who was yelling - but in a very gentle way - to a tour bus stopped at a red light. "Hello ther, are ya havin' a good tyme in Beylfast, t'day? Wer heer on ar whey to dance fer Darfur so, if yer aruund layter, we'd lov ta heyv ya stop biy!" Complete with gratuitous arm motions and ballet jumps by him and his band of social activists. It was so brilliant that it actually made me cry a bit. Perhaps I DO have a heart for the beautiful expression of God's gifts in others (as in, I'm not just a sack of jealousy and anxious wiggles about not being good enough myself). :-)