Singing In My Hometown

 Singing In My Hometown

By Paul McCann

Belfast city centre was blocked to traffic so I left the car around the University area and took a walk into the city hall . There were people sitting around on the grass enjoying the sunshine and shoppers on the sidewalks of Royal Avenue looking for bargains . I decided to join in the hunt for something at a special price . I looked at some of the quality goods in Littlewoods . Leather gear seemed to be in fashion but a little pricey . The denims in Debenhams were a better alternative so I opted for a pair of wrangler jeans instead .   I bought some coffee in a paper cup and a Yorkie bar for a quick sugar shot and started looking for busking spots . I walked into a zone at Cornmarket that was absolutely begging for a busker if you please and there I went to sing a few songs . I found a spot where I could see people coming from all directions . The bargain hunters and workers out for their lunches . What a great mix of diversity I saw . I heard the high street clock and the sound from music shops . Ambulance sirens and ships in the docks . Belfast was buzzing and people were out on the street . Young lovers arm in arm out for a walk spoke to me in a nice way about what I was doing . Business men came out from bars and threw me few words that were not so nice.  There are always some people like that who drive you mad with their attitude but I carried on regardless . I watched the pedestrians having crazy collisions with one hand on a shopping bag and the other texting on a mobile phone. With no vision at all of on coming shoppers they ended loosing some of the things they nearly had . I was able to see from outside the square and what a quare place life can be when you’re not caught up in the rush . I left Cornmarket and took a walk to the waterfront and saw a memorial to the ship  Titanic that had been built in Belfast . I did a spot of busking there as tourists came and went like ships in the night  . I left the harbor and went to the barbers for a short back and sides . It was nearly twilight when I booked a room at the Europa Hotel , with its claim to fame as being the most bombed Hotel in Europe . Anybody with a good eye could see it was right . It had the most modern décor and quality lighting as I’d ever seen . The latest gadgets in the rooms to make you feel you’d arrived in some future destination . Welcome home Buck Rodgers to Belfast its good to see you again . All is well you'll see we are here to comfort you on your stay . I had my summertime blue denims and a cap for my head with a guitar ready for the  streets . The business of busking was looking good and I was happy to be there . That evening I saw the bright lights of Shaftsbury Square and walked into crowded bars like a stranger in paradise .  

A lady tapped me for a drink and I took a walk to the bar where a fight broke out and people spilled out to the street somewhere between a ruck and a riot I escaped back to the hotel . 

The next day I took a train to a place where the fresh air is free and Bangor boats  come in and out with the tide like in times gone past .I sat on a wall in Ballywalter and played some songs to the people who went past with smiles and sunscreen on their faces . Kids with buckets and spades in their hand stopped to say hello . An alcoholic asked me to play him  a song I’d never heard of , so I made one up and he tried to sing along . He even said he remembered it which was amazing . I had a walk around Helens Bay and started to appreciate some of the open places around Belfast .

I met another busker called Larry and we played a few tunes on the train back to Belfast . He said he lived in East Belfast and asked me back to his place for a cup of tea . As we walked to his place I saw the painted crib paths that told you the religion of the people who lived in that district . In some areas it would be painted green white and orange which told you were in the catholic ghetto and in the protestant districts it would be red , white and blue .

Larry told me about the music scene in Belfast and some of the local bands on the scene . There was a lot of music coming through from unsigned bands .Larry loved a song called Nobodys Hero from a band called Sticky Fingers . I told him about my busking project and he though that was cool .

He offered to be my tour guide until I left Belfast and the next day he took me to Shaws Bridge and we walked along the peaceful grass walkways alongside the river Lagan .  Afterwards he took me to the Botanical Gardens where all kinds of tropical flowers were growing in glass houses . The Balmoral show was on as were the Belfast Bonfires . I stood there with him that night bedside a huge bonfire and heard the flicker and crack of sparks from the fire as people shared jokes and stories about life . It was there I found the old soul of Belfast was still alive and well .
People spoke with a nod of a head and some silent things that were never said bore a mention . The gift of knowing what no one can tell . Secrets of the soul like a friendly word in a concrete landscape or the smile from a stranger , to say , you’re welcome here . Children at play , singing songs around the bonfire . There were young lads arm-wrestling , guider races and as the night went on people sat around the bonfire telling ghosts stories and sharing jokes . Spuds in silver foil were placed at the edge of the bonfire in the ashes and in minutes they were cooked to perfection and passed around and eaten . All of these things were brief moments of time captured once .The travel brochures in the hotel were full of pictures of places to see . About forty minutes drive from Belfast in the County Down there were so many places I wanted to check out  . The Ards peninsula . Strangford Lough , Dundrum , Donaghadee and try to capture some space there as well as do some busking . I told Larry I was going away for a few days and took the car .

On the motorway to County Down I travelled not knowing what I would find . I had a look at accomadation and decided to check out if there were any caravan sites that had an empty van for a few days . Lucky enough I found a place on the road to Newcastle near the mountains of Mourne that met the Irish sea . 

In the town of Newcastle I did some busking and was amazed at how much money I made in an hour . There were people everywhere as a carnival was on beside the beach . It was a perfect opportunity for busking .

I found the surroundings too much to resist and took a walk around the paths up the mountains and down through the glen where the colours of wild flowers scattered themselves in the open spaces where I had never been before .
In some spots the long grass grew knee high where the deep blue eyes of the butterflies wings drifted past and there could be heard the whispers of lovers who lay in each others arms . Someone was softly singing , Van Morrisons Moondance as if their secret dreams had been found . The promise of undying lovewas good enough  reason to sing with only her lover and Mother nature to hear .

I stayed a few days busking around Newcastle taking time out to walk the tracks of the nature reserve where rabbits ran , skipped and jumped over bushed in the enclosed spaces of the reserve that made its way to the seashore with the backdrop of the Mourne mountains gentling pushing itself into the picture . It was almost like being in a dream there around the open spaces near Dundrum.

The magic open spaces of Tollymore Forest with a fairy tree and a blackthorn bush ,
hidden on tracks where you could stop and take a look at the wonder of it all .

I walked across the stepping stones by the banks of Shimna River that flowed through Tollumore Forest and crossed the bridge where shadows wandered and saw the leaves of trees that danced so gracefully as the soft wind blew and the clouds wafted in the wonder of it all . Between the sunlit places, a running stream , cut its way through a corridors of trees and on a  path of shaded emerald green , I cast some bread upon the water and I heard the silent lapping of the water over rocks speaking to the fish underneath to come and show yourself to the world . In the silence that spoke to me I let my thoughts fall into space and strummed a song I called Silent Donaghadee .
It was then that I thought I should be leaving and returned to reality of Belfast .

So I met up with Larry in Ormeau Park and we sat on a seat near and talked .

“What was it like in Country Down “ He asked .

“I wish you could have been there . It was brilliant .”I replied

“Where did you go ?” He asked me .

“I went fishing in Kilkeel and caught a joke from a drunk .“

“Sure , tell me another . “ He said and I laughed .

“I sat on the hobby horses and went round and round on a carnival ride “

“ I wish you’d tell me the truth .“ He said .

“Ok well , I walked up the paths of the Mountains of Mourne in County Down and I found this lonely place where I played a few tunes on the guitar .“

“That’s so cool . “ He answered .

“Belfast is so different . Its almost like a scene from West Side Story .“ I said .

“What are you one about.” He Asked 

“You know two gangs from the same city .“

“Ah that’s all over now . There’s like the Good Friday agreement and we live together in peace now .” He said .

Out of the corner of my eye I saw two kids having a conker fight . Then there was a few more playing marbles . I looked at groups of teenagers walking through the park laughing and jumping . It all made perfect sense . I looked at Larry and said ,

“Buskers have to sing tunes on Belfast afternoons . Come on , the sidewalks of the city are waiting . Off we went with our guitars to Castlecourt and we started to play a few songs . It was twilight in the City and couples walked past hand in hand to the  bars with their fancy one for a drink and a dance . Unspoken thoughts went running through my head . I could almost hear the echoes of a gun that had been fired a long time ago before the ceasefire . The streets of Belfast had kept many secrets of those years but peace had now made it's home .
Young lovers made their way into the city centre where Larry and I were busking on  the corners around Donegal Street and Royal Avenue .

There was a fella in York street with a crowd around him cheering and laughing .

We went over to see what was going on . You don’t have to be crazy in Belfast but it sure does help I was thinking . This fella took on a bet to carry a piano on his back from Belfast to Carrickfergus which is about eleven miles . So how he was going to do it was to strap this piano to his back and take one step at a time on the long journey to Carrickfergus . As he began the journey  , one step at a time , there were  whistles from all the corner boys and cheers from the back streets that called out a encouragement like a serenade of life . The bells of the churches were ringing and it was almost like a theatre production of a city that finally discovered a way to laugh back at life because peace had given them a nod .

Belfast is a city that made a comeback and the people were alive and wanting to survive like a child who had seen too much violence and now it was time to get on with living . The dark days were gone and the children could see a future where they could live together without fear .

I had an idea to go busking in some of the parks in Belfast so Larry and I mapped out a list of parks to go . Its amazing what you can see when you’re standing there for hours busking . Sometimes in the summer the leaves on the trees grow greenest of all . During the summer there’s a new spark of life returning again to parks .
Children playing on the swings and slides without a care in the world . A father and son running with a kite that’s lifted up in the sky where they watch it glide through the sky on a summer wind . Young ones kicking a ball and playing hide and seek . Families riding around on their bikes and having as picnics .

It was a perfect time to get back on the road and I looked at heading across to Donegal and make my way down the west coast to Galway and see the ring of Kerry then to Cork .  I wanted to keep busking and seeing around before the summer was gone .

I thanked Larry for all the help he gave me during my time in Belfast and in the morning headed off on the road to Enniskillen where I had lunch . Before the night fell I had booked in to a hotel in Westport . The following day I was on the road to  Galway and before the night fell I stopped in Killarney . In every pub on every corner there was a music session . The amount of talented musicians was incredible . That evening I brought my guitar and joined in with a few of the people playing music . The sound of everyone playing was so loud I couldn’t even hear what I was playing but I just strummed away . The place was packed with people and there was a sing song session to end off the evening . The next day I had an Irish breakfast before heading off for Cork . I had developed a love for Irish food  . Some of the baked bread was absolutely delicious as were the scones at breakfast and teatime. Making bread is a daily routine in Ireland . There are so many different kinds of bread , treacle farls , white and brown soda bread , potato Bread, barnbreks and baps .

I loved the earthy taste of Irish stews and soups . Dining out in Ireland fir me was a delightful experience . Most of the food is fresh in all respects. The seafood is especially wonderful. Naturally raised lamb is used in many recipes from Irish stew to Roast Leg of  Lamb. Beef is the traditional Sunday roast and every place I had stayed a special place was made on the plate for potatoes . The Irish potato or as they say praties is well suited to corned Beef and cabbage which is about as Irish as spaghetti bolognaise is to the Italians . There is a lot of history to corned beef in Ireland . In the very early times when Ireland was woodland the inhabitants relied on the native mammals, birds, fishes and vegetation for subsistence. Eventually the land was cleared and cultivation began. Domestic animals were also introduced and the animals that were raised provided a new source of food. Today Ireland has a vibrant agricultural economy. This is reflected in the fine fare that Ireland has to offer today.  Modern Ireland  is reputed to have a new generation, of chefs that has brought a rapid advancement in the Culinary Arts to Europe . They have brought back an air of confidence along with  a realm of creativity that has established new inspirations and marvellous preparations and as a result the presentation of a new exciting cuisine in Ireland . It is fresh, creative  and very tasteful.

Gone are the days of the unimaginative, bland, overcooked meat and potatoes .

Touring around Ireland made me very aware of the great taste to the food being served up .

A full Irish Breakfast is very hearty and delicious. It can often sustain you throughout the day. This meal generally consists of eggs, bacon, sausages, baked fresh tomatoes, mushrooms, white pudding, black pudding, fresh fruit, brown bread, or toast, or scones, with a bit of butter and marmalade. A  pot of tea or freshly brewed coffee with cream and a bit of brown sugar and you truly have a meal. In Belfast the fully cooked breakfast is called an 'Ulster Fry' and includes the addition of a fried potato farl. I was told that bacon and eggs are of Irish origin . One thing I noticed in  Ireland was the love of music and how musicians were given special treatment .

That tradition goes back thousands of years . It was a musicians call in life to  bringing new melodies and stories from village to village . Before radio or television had emerged the only way for news to be broadcast was via the travelling storyteller, bard, or musician . The quest to spread the musical word across the countryside was seen as inspirational and God given . The way of life for the troubadour was often very hard with no payment apart from the odd bowl of soup the musician was offered as he or she roamed the hills and valleys with no place to call home . Because of these talented individuals it wasn't long until Father and mother then passed on those ancient airs and ballads to their children who in turn handed them down from generation to generation . It was taken as a serious part of their life further to this the hospitality of the Irish is unsurpassed. This custom goes back to ancient times the Breton Laws declared you must share hospitality with the bard or stranger , or a busker like myself who would come to your door. If you did not, you were shamed and could be punished. The custom is still prevalent in Irish society today.