Across the street from the hotel was this large mural. We were in the middle of an Ulster loyalist area, Sandy Row. I knew I wouldn't have time to visit the more famous partisan areas of Falls Road and Shankill, so it seemed like a Bill thing to do, to walk along Sandy Row.

As shadows lengthened, I set out. Adventure found me immediately. Missing the last step of the hotel stairs, I tumbled to the pavement. "Splat"  Scrambling to my feet, I cracked my head on a railing. If the UDA and the IRA were watching, they went back to watching football, since this clown was no threat.

Sandy Row is a narrow but busy road. After a couple'a hundred yards, it settled down to a shuttered, dark street, vaguely sinister. Vaguely sinister until I realized it was almost seven and the shops were closed for the evening. Jet lag does that to me.

I forged on and noticed a nice new building. Four men were standing outside smoking. I walked across the street, three of the men went inside, leaving one fellow. I approached him and asked him what a "Sandy Row Ranger Supporter Club" was. He smiled, disarmed by my neutral American accent and told me that the Rangers were a Glasgow, Scotland football club. He went on to say that many people in Sandy Row were of Scots ancestry and had followed their (hometown) team for years. We chatted about the World Cup a bit, I warned him the Americans were making some progress. He didn't seem to be too afraid. I think, for a fleeting moment, he thought about inviting me into the club, but it passed and we shook hands and I moved on.

Shouts of children greeted me in the next block. A band of 10? year olds were playing some game, the goal of which seemed to be who could shout the loudest. I saw a mural to a fallen UDA fighter and stopped to take a picture.

The kids saw me and I was surrounded. Since a person taking a picture seemed to be more interesting than shouting at the top of their lungs, I was immediately beseeched to take their picture.

I motioned towards a less warlike mural and told them to stand in front of it. They were off like a shot, wonderfully noisy and took their poses.

We chatted for a few minutes, they told me they lived "over there", and then they were gone, but not unheard, as their game of being the loudest continued unabated.

At the end of Sandy Row, I crossed the street, narrowly avoiding a speeding BMW (cursed jet lag) and walked up past Queen's University, a large school (25,000 students), with significant research functions. It is one of the reasons for the youthful cast of Belfast.

Queen's also has strong ties to C. S. Lewis, a Belfast native.

The school was very lively, they must have a lot of night classes. Tons of young attractive kids, loaded with books and good humor, seemed to be congregating around a large commons area.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FVhXg9241jo 

(video has problems but still informative).