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The exploration of the partly shabby, then imperial brimming and two blocks away cozy and modern, tourist-seeking foothold Belfast was more sweaty than expected. The industrial city, pervaded by rough charm, is metamorphosing into a colorful butterfly. Dolce Vita is certainly elsewhere.
At first we didn’t find any traces of the Northern Ireland conflict. Belfast tells unsuspecting guests: go on, there is nothing to see here. That’s what we did, across endless streets, past cemeteries, into the residential areas. Modest brick houses, well-kept gardens, children’s toys as documents of peaceful coexistence. It’s getting quiet, the residential street ends abruptly in a huge wall made of steel, concrete, and wire mesh.
The wall of peace towering up in front of us: overpowering symbol of dialectics, separation enables coexistence. But the realization ripens: Walls settle conflicts – for healing, it needs wrecking balls.
