Pamela Louderback, Day 28

It's been exactly four weeks since I left the States and I have had such wonderful times here meeting people, walking all over the city, getting to know Queen's a bit.  There is a display in the McClay Library depicting photos of what Belfast looked like at the turn of the century (19th - that is) and I contemplate whether my Great-grandfather and his new bride - both of County Derry - ever walked the same streets as I do now.  They left Northern Ireland sometime in late 1898 - and wed on December 31st in Glasgow, Scotland where they lived for ten years before emigrating to Pennsylvania (with baby grandfather Charles in tow).   As I walk the streets today, I catch glimpses of my Dad, and Uncle Jack, even my brother -- in the faces of those around me.  The mannerisms are uncannily similar, as well.  I guess some things haven't changed too much in the last 100 years.  Or maybe we're all not so different than everyone else afterall; or, perhaps we look for the familiar (or even "think" we see the familiar) in those around us.  Plus ca change, plus c'est la meme chose...

It was tough getting started this morning given I'd been up all night listening to the gas heater units gurgling incessantly.  They've been doing this for three nights running now.  At first, it was kind of comforting to hear the noise piercing the silence; I imagined it was the noise of a dog snoring or cats running down the hallway  -- or, perhaps a family member drawing a bath or running the dishwasher.  but as the night wore on, and the noise continued, I found it much less comforting.  Such happenings required I make the much traveled journey down Malone Road to the Elms Village reception building to lodge a request for a maintenance man.  Seems, according to Marguerite - head receptionist - that the gas units need to be "bled".  Most likely, bubbles have collected in the unit - an easy enough fix.  However, the "fix" will not take place until Monday.  Thus, I am resigned to three more evenings of sleepless nights or no heat.  Hmm...which would you choose?

As I sit in my office, the soulful sounds of a tenor sax being played by a gypsy winds its way up to my second floor window. Its haunting melody beckons my atttention -- taking my mind far away from my work at hand.  But, I must confess, it does not take much to divert my attention these days.  I feel a strong pull to be walking the streets, taking in the air and the people -- it's a feeling that cannot be ignored -- nor denied!  I have concocted, as well as justified this plan of action with sound logic, indeed!  And the logic behind this feeling is that the day belongs to Belfast, the evening belongs to my books.  Of course, I fear I must soon modify this logical plan of action to an even better plan -- the days will belong to Belfast, as well as most of the evenings! -- with a splash of, say... an hour or two at the most -- sandwiched in there somewhere -- for a bit of research...  I dare say, Spock would raise an eyebrow at that piece of logic, eh? 

The walk to the Hary Ramsdens World Famous Fish & Chips place provided an interesting change of pace for my 'people watching' enjoyment today.  It was a bit later in the day than usual for me to take a lunch break (4 p.m.) and it's a Friday -- so either one or a combination of both may have contributed to the change in clientele.  The streets were teeming with children and young adult-types who were clad in school uniforms with obligatory emblems stitched to the left-hand side of their jackets.  It was as if I had found myself in the midst of a Harry Potter scene surrounded by "extras" -- of course, the accents helped to solidify my imaginery existence 'on set'.  I kept thinking that Hagrid would pop out at any given moment.  As well, many 18-24 types were dragging small suitcases behind them, rushing to what was most likely a train that would whisk them home for the weekend.  There was a different anticipation in their demeanor of someone going off on a journey-- and not arriving.  Most likely, they were QUB'ers.

But, alas, back to the research.  Given the polarization of the attitudes to the Irish language (most of which continue 100 years later) its surprising that Irish survived in the educational system at all.  At least,, this is the perception I glean from reading the historical accounts of the last century and picking up on comments peppered throughout conversations I've had.  Tonight I think I will peruse the journal section.  As yet, I have not given this area much attention at all.  It may round out what I have been reading in books, or may provide a different perspective altogether.  Also, I have not visited the Public Records Office either -- another excellent primary document source, to be sure.  Until recently, it used to reside quite close to QUB.  However, a few months ago, everything (or most of everything - they're still in the final stages of moving) was moved to the new location in the Titanic Quarter area.  Unfortunately, it is not in walking distance and requires my most likely acquiring a Fona Cab for the journey.  Perhaps I'll make plans for Tuesday (since I meet with a contact in the Department of Education on Monday).  I may even make plans for a two day excursion - one for research, one to check out the dock area (see link: http://www.titanic-quarter.com/ )
Well, off to the library I go...