Northern Ireland | Caroline Dickie

I’ll try to withhold the puns from now on…

March was somewhat of a busy month for me. First I recovered from a whirlwind of Northern Irishness after my cousin and her friend came to stay for a few weeks. Then I went to London and Northern Ireland for two weeks to visit family and friends, as well as surprise my grandmother for her 80th birthday party (she was shocked, if you must know). I came back to San Francisco, collapsed in a heap, then ventured off to wine country for a weekend of silly pillow fights, hot tubs, and – you guessed it! – wine.

Below I’ve included quite a few photos from the last few weeks. Some of my favorites come from Londonderry/Derry, a part of Northern Ireland long troubled by pro/anti union troubles for years and years. It also contains old walls surrounding the city, which are interesting to walk around. Although my father had walked the walls before (he was born and raised in NI), he didn’t think he’d ever actually walk the city streets (wait a minute…this sounds like the start of a U2 song). Many signs in the area, whether pro or anti union, are still covered with paint (probably from paint guns) and intimidating murals featuring schoolgirls accompanied by AK47s face busy streets.

A lot of the other photos are just silly.

That sure is a lot of photos!

Somedays I wish I could live near everyone at once.

Ever since my parents moved to London in 2003, I’ve spent a bit of time in Northern Ireland visiting relatives right before Christmas most years. Now that I’m in San Francisco, NI is a bit too far away to manage a weekend trip. Although most people would probably claim that June or July would be the best months in which to visit that region of the world, December may just be my favorite. Yes it gets dark there (and I mean pitch black) certainly by 4 and probably closer to 3:30 at this time of year, but there’s something magical about the quality of light and the crispness of the air. It is so peaceful and quiet. In the evenings we’d eat mince pies, read a book, knit a scarf, and listen to the waves crashing outside the window- knowing that our warm beds were close by. Here are some photos I’ve taken in the past few years of the region close to where my Granny lives.