The perfunctory preparations for landing began: one last collection of rubbish; the eternal ‘please pull your chair and tray into the up-right position’; &c. And as I glanced from my window, I saw Ireland: an imperfect tessellated puzzle of dark green parcels of land and dark grey asphalt roads reinvigorated by morning showers.
The airplane touched ground and I felt a sense of ease, but every end is a beginning and every beginning an end; there are only redirecting pivots in human life. The airport was a simple affair, nothing fancy — not one bit. Before reaching the baggage area, I went through customs; while the British citizens formed a long queue I arrived to the counter for those with American, Canadian and ‘other’ passports. After an amicable exchange of words and some stamping sounds, I was on my way. I collected my bags rather quickly and continued until I spotted Jesse.
We made our way to the exit, where we took a cab. The landscape reminded me of Arkansas in its vedure and the weather of San Francisco in its grey temperament; otherwise, the land is different. Half an hour later, we had arrived at Helen’s Bay, seemingly a well-off town perched along the Belfast Lough between Belfast and Bangor, the third largest city in Northern Ireland.
I have begun a collection of photos of Belfast (site); though the number is rather small at the moment. I shall post photos of Helen’s Bay and Bangor in the near future, as well as of the other places I visit in Northern Ireland and Ireland proper. I shall be visiting Dublin this Saturday!