Twas the night before the night before Christmas...

And I am officially sick of sugar. Ugh.

Pecan balls, buckeyes, no-bake cookies, cherry cake, watergate salad..... Oh man, it's too too much. I've been a baking fiend lately, making more cookies and cakes this week than I have all year. Maybe in the last *two* years.

 It's been really enjoyable and nostalgic, baking all of my favorite treats from childhood. But, I've reached my limit. I'm so sick of sugar that by the time I finished my last batch of pecan balls, I couldn't even bring myself to sample one. I had to make Matt do it.

But, all is well. All of the sweetness will be headed down to Thornton tomorrow with us for our traditional Christmas Eve celebration. I'm really looking forward to it. We do a big spread of appetizers, have some wine, and watch Frankie run around excited out of her mind about Santa. This year, my dad & Olga are going to be in town for the holidays, and I'm really looking forward to that too.

It's funny... Being a parent really has changed my perspective on Christmas. Honestly, I don't care at all about my own enjoyment. I just want Frankie to have fun. I want to see all the Christmas magic reflected through her eyes. I'm so looking forward to her waking me up at dawn, and seeing the look on her face as she sees the presents under the tree for the first time. And all those darn cookies? Honestly, I made them for her. She probably won't even eat a bite of any of those goodies, but it doesn't matter. I still want her to be around all of the things I loved when I was a kid. I want to start building Christmas memories for her that stack up and overlap with my own.

Sounds sappy to say it out loud, but it's all true.

Or maybe it's just the sugar talking?

Cookies!

Lazy Sunday

Today is the first day in a long time that Matt & I haven't had some sort of house project to do. It's a nice change of pace, but we're almost at a loss to figure out what to do with ourselves.

Frankie and Matt started out with a few "Science Sunday" activities. They got out their experiment kit and made "oobleck," vinegar/baking soda volcanic reactions, and a bunch of other fun stuff.

Now, I'm baking cookies to decorate with Frankie, and when Matt gets home from the grocery store, he plans on showing Frankie how to make bread. Then, he has some sort of gourmet dinner planned involving risotto and beef roulade.

It's a really nice, relaxing day. But... Shouldn't we be painting walls and patching concrete or something??

Tah Dah!

Embrace the brown-ness.

In progress...

Old wall:

In progress:



New color:

Matt's taking off the final masking right now. As soon as we get the room back together, I'll post a "ta dah!" picture.

Goodbye, Ol' Red

When the house stager walked through the house, she made it clear that the major problem with our decor (other than our shocking lack of towel bars) was the red color on the walls in the living room. She seemed pretty convinced that a red wall is the kiss of death when it comes to selling a house. So, away it goes.

It's too bad, really, because I actually liked the way the living room looked before we started up all these changes. Actually, it's like every change the stager asked us to make brings me closer to the point where I don't recognize my own style in the house anymore. The realtor and stager want the house "depersonalized" to the point that it doesn't seem like anyone actually lives here. I guess that's the point, right? Still, it's hard to live in a house when I don't really like how it's decorated. Ah, well. I suppose it's just temporary. I'll deal.

Anyhow, the red wall removal is going down this weekend. Matt's parents came up to help out with the project, and I ended up assigned the cushy job of taking care of Frankie (read: keeping Frankie out of the way) while the painting's underway. I didn't even have to lift a single brush today. Frankie and I watched a movie, went to an indoor playplace, did a little shopping, and basically stayed out of the house for six hours. So... that's pretty great. Tomorrow, I'll get my hands dirty and be Matt's assistant while Frankie hangs out at her grandparents' house, but today all I had to do is sit back and watch the magic unfold. Yay, Coles! Your tireless work ethic and attention to detail is a thing of beauty.

Busy, busy, busy!

It's a flurry of activity around here.

We're moving ahead with plans to sell the house, and had a "house stager" come in to give the place a once over. I have to say, I don't think I was prepared for the sheer amount of criticisms she was going to have about the way the house looked.

The quibbles she had with the way furniture was laid out weren't too painful, but when she started in about all of the nit-picky details concerning the upkeep and general cleanliness of the house, it started to sting.

Chipped paint, dirty grout, dusty baseboards... All of her criticisms were warranted, but me feel like I've been forcing my family to live infilth. It's embarassing to be told by a total stranger that the inside of my over isn't clean enough. And, we don't have a towel bar in the master bedroom? WE'RE LIVING LIKE ANIMALS!!!!

Speaking of holidays...

This is me and Frankie, rocking Pilgrim Chic:

Then, my first turkey. (Thanks be to Alton Brown and his magical brine recipe.)

I overcooked the Brussel sprouts (dang!), but they were still pretty darn tasty.

Everybody made one or two dishes for Thanksgiving dinner, and they were all terrific, Among the highlights: we had some fantastic stuffing from Matt, out-of-this-world cream cheese potatoes from Jo, super tasty yams with marshmallows from Grandma Mary, and sticky toffee pudding from Jim.

I'm just about burnt out on leftovers-- I've eaten them every day since Thursday. Great meal, though. A very nice, relaxing turkey day.

Holiday Spirit

In a festive mood, Matt put Christmas lights up outside the house, and Frankie and I hauled out the boxes and started to put up the Christmas tree. We worked for about an hour, assembling the giant white tree that we've used for the past five years. Each branch has to be individually placed and fluffed, and the process is just tedious enough to take most of the fun out of the job.

After we finally got the tree together, I put it in its place in the bedroom and felt a little pang of regret, because after all of the work we had done de-cluttering the bedroom, the white tree took up all of the newly-freed space. It was kind of a bummer.

I steeled myself for the lengthy task of stringing the lights. It's my least favorite Christmas job-- Walking around and around the tree, getting dizzy, obsessing about how to get the lights perfectly spaced. I sat at the bottom of tree, looking up with a wad of tangled lights in my hand, and just...couldn't....bear it.  I lasted for about three minutes of untangling and winding, and finally said FORGET IT and immediately drove to Target to buy a pre-assembled, pre-lit tree about 1/3 the size of the white monstrosity.

I'm totally over the white tree. It was great in a retro kind of way, but this new tree takes up way less space, took five minutes to get out of the box and light, and made the decorating process much more enjoyable. I'm all about simplicity these days, and the white tree was cramping my style.

Tah-dah!

Colorado Sunrise

Isn't this amazing?

Almost makes getting up at 5am worth it.

Headed to market!

We had a marathon 2 1/2 hour meeting with our realtor today, and signed all of the paperwork to put our house on the market next month. It's exciting, confusing, and stressful all at once.  I mean, I know that people buy and sell houses every day, but for me the whole endeavor seems pretty epic and overwhelming. The timing is just so hard to wrap my head around. We have to follow Frankie and Roscoe around the house constantly picking things up and wiping things off, keeping perpetually poised for spur-of-the-moment showings, braced for the magic day when we finally get an offer. Then...BAM! We're homeless, and we'd better find ourselves a new house to live in immediately.

I guess it wouldn't be so overwhelming if Matt & I weren't so picky about our next house. If it was as simple as just waiting for our house to sell, looking over the houses available at that random moment we go under contract, and choosing the best of the batch, that'd be manageable. But, I don't want to settle for something that I don't love. I want the next house to be the one we spend the next ten years in. I want to fall in love. So, it has to be just right.

I think Matt and I have both come to terms with the fact that we might have to spend a few months in a rental once our house sells. (And, knock wood, I hope it'll sell soon. We are out of space, on top of other, and consequently facing a winter of boxed-in Cabin Fever.) But, the rental will be ok. Heck, if we can move to another country for seven months, surely we can do the same thing across town.

Wish us luck! The next few months are bound to be a bit of a roller-coaster. I'm looking forward to it, though.

 

Back in Black

I have to confess that I find all of the hubbub over "Black Friday" shopping to be somewhat insane. How good could the deals possibly be to justify crawling out of bed before sunrise and fighting crowds of people over a bunch of stuff that I probably don't need? It's just not appealing to me. I'd much rather do all my shopping online in my pajamas.

I saw an ad last night for Kohls where a happy suburban mom gleefully announced that the store would be opening at 3am for Black Friday shopping. 3am. Why would anyone get up that early to go shopping??? Do they shower you with gold coins an soon as you walk into the store? Is there a giant stack of free HD televisions? Unless you're a shopaholic insomniac, what could possibly be the draw?

I went to bed last night with all of this on my mind, and had a crazy vivid dream. I totally recognize that dreams are only interesting to the dreamer. There's nothing more boring than listening to someone go on and on about their weird dream-- It's what makes David Lynch movies so darn unbearable. Still, I can't resist sharing. Feel free to tune out.

In my dream, I woke up at 3am and had the uncontrollable urge to go Black Friday shopping. I hopped in the car and drove to Best Buy (which is already weird because I would *never* shop there in real life).

The store was all set up like a movie premiere... Searchlights, paparazzi, you name it. The line was one of those red-velvet-rope Disney-esque deals, and the queue stretched around the block. Fortunately, I found a secret way in at the back of the store where a pack of shoppers had pushed over a chain link fence like a pack of zombies in a Romero movie.

When I got in, the store was darkly lit, but basically the same as always. I had this overwhelming feeling of disappointment. Like, ...This is it? Tom Selleck was shopping in the aisle next to me, and he was really mean. I couldn't wait to get home and back to bed.

On my way out of the store, I got in an argument with a horrible woman that was elbowing shoppers out of the way to push her way to the DVDs. I tried to punch her, but totally whiffed my swing and missed her by a mile, just hitting air. I high-tailed it out of the store, and took a wrong turn. Suddenly, I was lost in some sort of vast industrial complex. There were warehouses and dark alleys everywhere. It was the dead of night, and I had absolutely no idea of how to get home. I wandered around, confused and panicked, until Roscoe finally jumped on the bed and woke me up.

So, yeah. Pretty clear, even in dreamland, how I feel about Black Friday.

And Tom Selleck, apparently.

The budding vegetarian

No turkey for Frankie today. She informed me yesterday that she would never, ever eat a turkey because it makes her too sad to eat things that somebody killed.

If this keeps up, Frankie's in for an eye-opening conversation about where chicken nuggets come from.

Gobble Gobble

Here's the most important lesson I've learned during the last few weeks: When I'm unemployed, life is way less stressful.

It's really great being home, and not having to go in to school to teach. After Frankie goes to bed at eight, I don't have to gear myself up for all-night marathon grading sessions. My inbox is free from the dozens of panicky/ passive-aggressive student emails that usually take up all of my time and energy. I actually have time to plan meals and pick up the house. I feel much less resentful when Matt goes away on business trips, because I don't have to juggle all of the childcare and housework with teaching.

In short, being unemployed is pretty awesome.

I know that I'm in a very fortunate position, not having to have a job right now. Matt works really hard, and it's because of him that I have the luxury of forgoing a paycheck and staying at home. So, yay Matt.

Being at home also makes prepping for Thanksgiving so much easier. In years past, I remember being so exhausted and overwhelmed with grading over Thanksgiving break that the thought of making anything for the big family dinner made me want to curl up in a ball in the corner, weeping. This year, I'm totally looking forward to the big meal. I'm in charge of the turkey, and have the whole 19 pound she-bang currently brining in the kitchen. (Thanks, Alton Brown!) I got the cranberry eggnog salad all whipped up this morning. In fact, I'm so ahead of the game, that I'm planning to run back out to the store to buy the ingredients for a last minute addition to the roster: roasted brussel sprouts.

It feels good to be able to take such a relaxed approach to Thanksgiving. And for that, truly, I'm thankful.

Long time, no blog

I can't seem to get motivated to write lately. I see my computer sitting there on my desk, and feel guilty for not writing... Like I've missed some sort of important deadline. It's similar to the feeling I used to get when I needed to grade a giant stack of papers but couldn't seem to get motivated to get started.

Maybe it's because there's not much going on around here lately. Well, ok. That's not exactly true. There's just nothing especially interesting going on. I've been trying to get the house organized, running a bunch of errands, cooking, cleaning, blah blah blah. Nothing that seems like it would be interesting to an audience.

Still, I've been feeling guilty about not updating, so here goes:

Frankie is back at school, and is doing great. She's made a bunch of new friends, and always seems excited to go to school in the morning. I was really worried that the transition would be tough on her, but she seems remarkably resilient. She still talks about her Dearham friends, but not with sadness. It's been a real relief to me. It's so great to see her having fun at school and making new friends. Last Friday was "crazy hair day" and this Friday is "lunch with a loved one." It seems like there's always something for her to look forward to. Go, Putman School of Science!

The only potentially dark cloud on the horizon is that Frankie's school, Putnam, has been put on a list with five other schools in town for potential permanent closure. I'm trying not to get too worked up about it yet, but it would really be awful to put Frankie through yet another transition next year. I know she'd be fine, but I hate to push her capacity to adapt too far. We won't know anything about the closures until January, but one of the five is definitely going to go. Keep your fingers crossed that it's not Putnam.

Speaking of changes, transitions, and adapting....

Matt and I have been making a lot of progress in getting the house ready to go on the market. We spent the day on Sunday cleaning out the storage shed and clearing out the boxes we've been storing underneath the house. I can't believe some of the stuff that we've kept stored down there over the years. I mean, how many boxes of VHS cassettes does one family need? (Answer: ZERO.)

I'm a bit of a pack rat, so it's hard for me to throw things away. One of the reasons that it's so hard for me to let things go is that even years (sometimes decades) after I buy something, I can still remember exactly how much I paid for just about everything. It's like the worst superpower ever. When I throw a sweater in a bag for Goodwill, in my head I add it to a mental mathematical list of how much it cost, and how much it plus all of the other items total. I know it sounds weird, but sometimes throwing away stuff feels like throwing away money. Even if I haven't worn the clothes or used the items in years, I still have a hard time with it. I know it's ridiculous, but I can't help it.

I found a solution, though. Instead of throwing stuff out or giving it to Goodwill, I've started taking the things that are especially tough to part with to consignment shops. It's not much... $30 here, $40 there, but it takes the psychological sting out of it for me. And when I'm done running things to the consignment shops around town, anything they don't want or need goes right over to the Salvation Army. And I'm ok with that. Great, even. Plus, it's really liberating to leave the house with a carload of stuff and come home with nothing plus fifty bucks.

So, that's what I've been doing. Boring, you say? I told you so. But I sure do have a lot less junk stuffed intro the nooks and crannies around here. And that's a very good thing.

Supergirl!

Frankie's new haircut

Sassy!

Good morning, Baltimore!

This is me, dressed up like Tracy Turnblad from Hairspray. I love, love, love Halloween costumes.

Happy Halloween!

Settling in, squeezing in

It was one thing to haul nine suitcases through the airport. Unpacking them and finding a place for all of the stuff has been another thing entirely. Even before we walked through the door with all of the suitcases, the house was totally at capacity. Stuffed to the gills. Every shelf, every surface, every drawer is absolutely full. The only closet in the house, the one in the master bedroom, is so full that the closet rod literally snapped when I started putting the packed clothes back on it.


So, I’ve spent the last few days trying to get everything put away and organized. I cleaned out as many of the spaces as possible, and took a carfull of stuff to Goodwill. Almost all of the suitcases are unpacked now, and things are about as organized as they can possibly be at this point. As long as nobody gets anything out of a drawer or cabinet and Frankie doesn't haul out any of her toys, it looks pretty good in here. Still, one thing has become absolutely clear:

We need a new house. Immediately.

I’ve been really attached to our Colorado house, and have always felt that it would be hard to let it go. After living in the huge, wonderfully spacious, closet-filled Kirkborough House, it’s been really hard to transition back to living in this teeny tiny house. This house is about a third as big as the Kirkborough House, and Matt and I are both really feeling the difference. He misses his study. I miss the stairs and the second level. I don’t think we’re going to be able to live in our Colorado house for much longer. We need more space, not just for our stuff, but for ourselves. It's getting pretty claustrophobic in here.

So, here’s the plan:

We’re going to get a storage pod, box all of the unnecessary things up and put them in the pod. We’ll get rid of some of the clutter, clear out the garage/bunker, and get the house ready to go on the market. I’m going to talk to a realtor next week, and get the ball rolling. Hopefully, we can sell our house by the spring. Hopefully.

The process of moving *again* is a little overwhelming, but it’s definitely the right thing to do. And I’m actually really excited about finding a new house. I just wish I could snap my fingers and have it all happen instantly, like magic.

Future of the blog

When I started up This Transplanted Life, I was thinking that it would be a great way to chronicle our UK adventure and keep in touch with far away friends and family. I’ve really loved writing the blog, and it has given me a really great creative outlet during the roller coaster ride of the last few months.


Now that we’re home and not technically “transplanted” anymore, I’ve been thinking a lot about what to do with the blog. Do I finish it up, or keep going? Day-to-day life here is so much more settled, I don’t think that the posts will be as interesting as they were in the UK. I mean, who wants to hear about my errands to the post office? Hearing about trips to Ireland and Scotland is so much more interesting.

Still, I don’t like the thought of ending the blog. Even here, home, I think it will be good to have a place to keep track of my thoughts. And heck… when isn’t life at least a little “transplanted”? We have lots of big changes coming up, and this will be a good place to talk about them.

So, the blog stays. Hope you’ll stay, too.

We're home!

We made it home last night around 10pm. I was exhausted, cranky, and sick to death of being shoehorned into a teeny tiny airplane seat.

After a good night's sleep and a shower, I feel much better. Still, I really hope it’s a good long time before I have to take another flight.

The amount of luggage we hauled home with us was massive. In total, we traveled with:

8 big suitcases

3 backpacks

2 carry-ons

2 laptops

1 carseat

It was almost an embarrassing amount of luggage. Thank goodness we had help dragging it all through the airport. In Manchester our taxi driver gave us a hand, and in Denver Matt's parents were a huge help. (Not only did they meet us at baggage claim, but they also drove a load of our suitcases all the way back to Fort Collins for us. Saints, they are.)

My least favorite part of the trip was when we landed in Philadelphia. For some reason, they have it set up in Philly so that all international arrivals have to pick up their checked luggage off the carousel and re-check it again for the domestic flight. This means having to go through the whole circus from scratch a second time: security checks, body scans, x-rays, the works.

I was so not excited to be reunited with all 8+ suitcases again in Philly, only to have to check them in yet again. Fortunately we got a skycap to help us maneuver through the airport, but it was still a massive pain in the arse.

When finally got home, all I wanted to do was flop down in my warm and comfy bed. The bed was comfy all right, but warm... Not so much. While we were gone, something in our furnace died. So, no heat for us. The furnace guy is down there right now, working up an $800 fix. Not exactly an ideal Welcome Home, but what can you do?

Frankie is napping right now, and I'm torn between:

a) hoping that she wakes up soon so that we can try to get back on a reasonable schedule

and

b) hoping that she stays asleep for a long time so I can get a moment to myself

She's been a little nutty today. She woke up at 3am, wide awake and demanding breakfast. Fortunately, Matt was ready to wake up too, so the two of them had a little nocturnal hang-out session. Like a couple of raccoons. Matt even took Frankie to the all-night grocery store at 4am to stock up on supplies. Matt said that he was getting the stink eye from passers-by, like he was the worst dad in the world for dragging a 5-year-old out in the middle of the night to go grocery shopping. He had to explain to the checkout clerk that Frankie was jetlagged, not forced awake against her will. Kind of cracks me up, though, what other people must have thought of him having her out that late.

At the moment, I'm doing a pretty good job getting us acclimated back to the US. I had the cable set up this morning, the furnace is being fixed at the moment, I got my cell phone turned back on, the mail service restarted, the garbage service set up, and a whole load of worn-out and outgrown clothes bagged up and loaded in the car for a Goodwill run.

So far, so good! (Well, except for the furnace thing. That really sucks.)

The sun sets on our UK trip

...and in a fitting tribute, the sunset was absolutely beautiful this evening.

Frankie says goodbye to her school friends

The end is nigh...

I originally thought that I'd spend my last week in England visiting all of my favorite spots and saying a leisurely goodbye. That hasn't actually gone according to plan. Instead, I've been spending the whole week packing like a fiend-- Shoving things into suitcases and giving away all the stuff that won't fit. I've been driving round and round the village dropping off rugs, tables, chairs, and all the other things that can't come with us. Everyone's been so kind and appreciative. It makes me feel a little like Santa. Oh, sorry. Like Father Christmas.

I've gotten quite a few really sweet cards and going-away gifts from some of my friends out here. My favorite one was from my friend Jackie, who thanked me for "bringing a little more color into her life." I thought that was a pretty nice compliment.

We're down to the wire, though. Every single suitcase is packed to its maximum capacity: 50 pounds. (48, just to err on the safe side.) I still have no idea how we're going to be able to navigate the airport with all of this stuff. And how Matt thinks he's going to be able to squeeze all of us and our luggage in his Saab for the ride home from Denver is a mystery to me. I hope the inside of the Saab is built a little like one of those clown cars, where the inside seems to magically hold way more than the outside would suggest.

So... Farwell England. Goodbye Kirkborough House. I'll never forget this adventure. It seemed pretty crazy at the time, but had turned out to be one of the best decisions ever.

Disco fever!

I thought my heart would explode with the adorable awesomeness of watching Frankie dancing up a storm to "Thriller." Best Halloween party ever! Bubble machine...a DJ...hot dogs...strobe lights....fog machine.... Does it get any better?



Last day of school

Saying Goodbye

Today is Frankie's last day at school, and I'm feeling sad.

Sad Keanu

Sad Don Draper

It's been harder than I thought it would to say goodbye to the moms I've made friends with out here, and all of the cards and hugs they gave me this morning made me break down in an embarassing and uncharacteristic show of tears.

Frankie seems ok this morning, but yesterday in the car on the way to school she sang an epic song all about leaving England that featured the following phrases:

"Why do I deserve this?"
"I'll never see my best friends again."
"Maybe someday I'll be happy."

Totally broke my heart. Which was probably exactly what she was trying to do.

Anyhow, today she's much better than I am. She actually seems excited to get back to Colorado, citing the fact that Colorado will be "Layla free." I'm excited to get back home, too. But the goodbyes are just plain hard. I can't stop myself from thinking morose thoughts everytime I do even the simplest task: This is my last trip down The Went.... I'll never see the Post Office again... that's the last pasty I'll ever eat.... etc, ad nauseum.

It's just weird to think that this place that's been a second home to me will be erased completely from my daily life. I'll never be here again. Weird.

Boo!

Frankie dressed up like a skeleton for her school's Halloween dance tonight. (They called the dance a "disco," which I think is adorable.)

When we got home from the party, Frankie wanted to keep wearing her skeleton outfit. When Matt got home, she decided that she wanted to scare him-- You know, like a spooky skeleton would.

Frankie squeezed herself in one of the small cabinets under the sink (a space that, from the outside, I would deem far too small for a human), and hid quietly until Matt came into the kitchen. I was making dinner, and lured Matt into her trap by asking him to grab me some tongs from under the sink.

He opened the cabinet door and started to reach for the nonexistent tongs, but Frankie was all curled up inside, dressed in black and barely visable. Then Frankie ever so slightly moved.

Matt yelled, "JESUS!!!!" and jumped halfway across the kitchen, scrambling away. As Frankie climbed slowly out of the cabinet, and it took Matt's brain a few seconds to process that it was his daughter under there, not some horrific Sink Gnome.

Hilarity. I thought I'd never stop laughing. Oh, how I wish I had it all on tape.

Matt's normally so darn unflappable, impossible to scare. It was awesome. Frankie really got him.


Matt was a really good sport about it, and laughed with us about it afterwards. His heart had to be racing, though. And I wouldn't be surprised if he were in his den at the moment, plotting revenge.

Of course, since I'm totally easy to scare (Matt makes me scream at least once a week just by quietly entering the room behind me on his dainty, silent, lady-feet), I am OFF LIMITS for retribution. I'm too easy a mark.

What do you think....

...of my new haircut?

I can't straighten it myself, because I'm way too uncoordinated. So, by the time any of you see me in person, I'll be curly again. But still, it's a fun change, no?

Belfast

We go native: Guinness and Bushmill's whisky.

The first thing I should say about Northern Ireland is that, in my experience at least, the people we met were all very kind, friendly, and welcoming. They’re not friendly in an overbearing how am ever I going to escape this conversation? kind of way, either. Just very warm, thoughtful, and lovely.


For example:

We got a little turned around in the Belfast city center, and needed to ask directions to the St. George market. We asked a gruff-looking man on the street, leaning on a building and smoking a cigarette. As soon as we asked him for help, he not only explained how to get to the market, but very helpfully walked us down the street to the intersection we needed and pointed us in the right direction. Everyone was like that: Bus drivers, bartenders, store clerks, people on the street, you name it. It was a very friendly, hospitable place where we always felt welcome wherever we went. It was a real change from the north of England where the people honestly seem to be a bit guarded and wary of strangers.

The next thing I’ll say about Belfast is that in retrospect I now realize that it’s a very odd choice for a vacation destination. Belfast isn’t a dangerous place anymore, but the city is still deeply scarred from “The Troubles.” Bombings and shootings were pretty common in Belfast up until about ten years ago, and the city is still trying to pick itself up and rebuild. As we took a tour around the city, you could see the beautiful old buildings mixed in with vacant lots where buildings had been destroyed and cleared away, mixed in with tons of new construction. The peace wall that divides the Protestant and Catholic parts of the city is still there, and political murals about the IRA, bombings, and so forth are on nearly every corner. Still, despite the fact that the city was once so divided, Belfast seems to be recovering. It’s a ‘cautiously optimistic’ vibe, where you see that there’s a real commitment to rebuilding and healing the community.

Still, driving around the city feels a bit like visiting a war zone.

That said, I’m very glad that we went to Belfast. I learned a lot about the city’s political history from the trip, and saw a city that was really like no other city that I’ve ever seen before: Industrial, urban, haunted, and forward-thinking. The city center was a really hip place, too: Tons of cool boutiques, vintage shops, and fancy restaurants. I went to at least six different vintage shops on Saturday, each one quirkier and more fantastic than the next.

An embarrassing confession: Before I went to Belfast, I didn’t even actually realize that Northern Ireland is an entirely separate country from Ireland. I feel like kind of an idiot. Whenever I used to hear something about “Northern Ireland” on the news, I just assumed that they meant it in a descriptive way, like the north part of Ireland. But no. Northern Ireland and Ireland are separate, much like Virginia and West Virginia. How could I have not known that?

Me = Duh. Makes me realize that I still have a lot to learn about the rest of the world.

Here are some of the pictures from the Belfast part of the trip.

This is the ferry we took across the sea, three hours to Belfast.

The inside of the ferry was kind of swanky. It had shopping, a movie theater, food service, a nice lounge, and free snacks and drinks. Sounds a bit like air travel, but it was way better. The seats were comfy and it was a really relaxed way to travel. (The lack of metal detectors, xrays, and full-body friskings was a real bonus.)

One of the many sad vacant lots (read: bombing sites) outside the city center.

Contrasted by the very lovely Queen's College, right in the city center.

Victoria Square

Frankie, chillin' on Merchant Street

"Living statues." Less than, greater than, or equal to mimes? Discuss among yourselves.



Clock tower, falling over just like the Leaning Tower of Pisa.

Here a few of the best/most iconic murals I snapped:



Bobby Sands

This political mural is on the side of a Subway restaurant. Weird contrast.

Harbor fountains

Fall colors in the city

Tour bus!

City gal!

Frankie, eating mussels. (This girl won't eat pizza, but mussels? Can't get enough.)

Outside the Parliment building

City Hall

The last few pictures are of "The Salmon of Knowledge." No joke, that's it's name. It's an iconic Belfast landmark-- A statue of a gigantic fish. Legend says that if you kiss the fish, you'll get smarter. Must work at least a little, because after kissing the fish, Frankie counted to SEVENTY. (Prett good, eh?)

It was actually really cute. After hearing the tour guide talk about The Salmon of Knowledge, Frankie couldn't wait to go over and kiss it. She was soooo excited, and couldn't stop talking about it. Even after she kissed the big fish, she told literally everyone that she passed (on the street, in the bus, at the hotel) what she had done, and how she already felt smarter. Adorable.

Did The Big Fish make me smarter? Only time will tell...