Blogging has been slow going with the end of the school year, followed by a beach week with family, and preparing for international travel with every free minute I've had! Never enough hours in the day (or maybe I just set high expectations to fill up every moment of each day I'm given).
When I started talking to my mom and dad about this book idea, we had an opportunity to sit down and have a dinner (and a few glasses of wine) to talk about memories from our trip to Northern Ireland in 1997. It was the summer after Tina stayed with us, and 11-year-old Mollee was concerned about 3 things: seeing my sister, seeing Tina, and wearing my very yellow raincoat (it felt very London Fashion "on brand"). Most people traveling to London, Ireland, and Scotland anticipate history, architecture, pubs, and golf. Yeah … I've never been most people.
My sister Melody was studying abroad in Alwnick, Northumberland, England (in the castle where Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone was filmed the next year!!!) and we met her upon arriving in London. Exhausted from an overnight flight, we jumped on one of those hop-on, hop-off tours to see as much of the city as possible… while Dad napped! Many of my memories from our time there can be seen from the series of photos I snapped from the open-topped double decker bus!
According to Mom's memory of our itinerary, we drove west to Wales and caught a ferry to Dun Laoighure - what do I remember about this exciting journey, crossing the sea to Ireland? The crushing disappointment of the terrible taste of McDonald's cheeseburgers on a UK ferry. Yep, they had a McD's on board. And it was awful.
Pubs and B&B's awaited us on in the Dublin area. I can't tell you what it was like… the only sharp memory was the happenstance of being on campus for the graduation ceremony at Trinity college - gleeful Irish students in full regalia and a party atmosphere.
The contrast to our journey through Northern Ireland could not be any more drastic from what we had encountered thus far.
At the border, we were stopped by British soldiers, seeking papers, passports, and purpose for entering Northern Ireland (according to Mom… I was probably napping or reading). Once though the border, we were stopped again. This I remember most clearly.
I remember because it was the first time I had seen military weapons, and those rifles were pointed right at our car. I had lots of questions, including why the boy outside my window had a gun, when he looked to be just a couple years older than me. Dad advised me to keep my head down and stop talking. The car ride was pretty silent from that point on.
We went through a roundabout - so Irish - only to see a burned out city bus and flaming tires down one street. What is going on?
Tina's Dad drove down to meet us before crossing the border, so we followed him the whole way, with Tina in the car with us. Otherwise, I imagine my parents would have turned around to return to the Republic.
We drove up to their home, outside of Belfast, and the air was choked with smoke. My eyes itched and throat ached. While I can't remember much about being in Tina's house, I do remember looking outside her bedroom window that night, amazed to see stars winking through the hazy, heavy air.
No longer able to visit the city due to safety concerns around the 12th July holiday. On the evening of the 11th, Protestants set alight huge bonfires. Several stories high. More on this in coming posts (or Google it!). Though it was a few days out, tensions were high and riots had broken out over several issues in different communities. Hugh, Tina's Dad, suggested to my parents that we take Tina and go to their caravan. In Donegal. Back in the Republic! Yep, we fled the North (just as Tina did the summer before to visit us!)
What I remember from this part of the trip was lots of giggles from the backseat, learning that a caravan was a holiday trailer and biscuits were the word for cookie! The summer Tina stayed with us was the first time she had peanut butter and jelly together… not a combo they used in Ireland or the UK so she was thrilled we made more PB&J's in Donegal. (Seriously y'all. I remember gross McDonald's cheeseburgers and making PB&J's. World traveler… limited taste buds).
We were assured that the Antrim coast back in Northern Ireland would be safe and well worth our travels. Like most travelers to Ireland, my parents wanted to golf and drink whiskey. So off to Bushmills… I don't recall what us girls did while they toured a distillery and played a round. Hope my sister can fill me in (but I'm really thinking the answer is NAPPING! She was a college student, I was trying to navigate new time zones for the first time).
The stop that made the biggest impact on my memory was the Giant's Causeway - a magestic places where the rolling, green fields suddenly end at the edge of the island and drop suddenly, meeting the water with hexagonal basalt columns sticking out like an uneven tiled floor. We used up lots of energy hopping across the stones, standing on those built into the cliffs (the Organ Pipes), and trying not to get too wet in the frigid North Atlantic waves. I think this memory is so strong as I had something to compare it to in earlier travels to Mount Rushmore and the cliffs of Lake Superior. I was awed by it.
When I close my eyes and think of the scenery, I recall long stretches of abandoned (and chilly) beaches, white houses with thatched roofs that teetered precariously on the edge of hills, and many, many pastures. The stark change from what we first encountered when we crossed the border.
And even though we left through Belfast - escorted by a sheriff to the ferrydocks, on the 11th - I carried the beauty of NI with me, the happy memories with Tina and meeting her family, driving and dancing on beaches and other-worldly stones.
Our last experience in Northern Ireland was standing next to the shipyard where the Titanic was built - a white, padlocked fence between us and the famed Harland and Wolff drydock. When I learned that we were touching history, my skin tingled.
21 years later, I insisted that we had to visit again. That post is next!
When I started talking to my mom and dad about this book idea, we had an opportunity to sit down and have a dinner (and a few glasses of wine) to talk about memories from our trip to Northern Ireland in 1997. It was the summer after Tina stayed with us, and 11-year-old Mollee was concerned about 3 things: seeing my sister, seeing Tina, and wearing my very yellow raincoat (it felt very London Fashion "on brand"). Most people traveling to London, Ireland, and Scotland anticipate history, architecture, pubs, and golf. Yeah … I've never been most people.
My sister Melody was studying abroad in Alwnick, Northumberland, England (in the castle where Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone was filmed the next year!!!) and we met her upon arriving in London. Exhausted from an overnight flight, we jumped on one of those hop-on, hop-off tours to see as much of the city as possible… while Dad napped! Many of my memories from our time there can be seen from the series of photos I snapped from the open-topped double decker bus!
According to Mom's memory of our itinerary, we drove west to Wales and caught a ferry to Dun Laoighure - what do I remember about this exciting journey, crossing the sea to Ireland? The crushing disappointment of the terrible taste of McDonald's cheeseburgers on a UK ferry. Yep, they had a McD's on board. And it was awful.
Pubs and B&B's awaited us on in the Dublin area. I can't tell you what it was like… the only sharp memory was the happenstance of being on campus for the graduation ceremony at Trinity college - gleeful Irish students in full regalia and a party atmosphere.
The contrast to our journey through Northern Ireland could not be any more drastic from what we had encountered thus far.
At the border, we were stopped by British soldiers, seeking papers, passports, and purpose for entering Northern Ireland (according to Mom… I was probably napping or reading). Once though the border, we were stopped again. This I remember most clearly.
I remember because it was the first time I had seen military weapons, and those rifles were pointed right at our car. I had lots of questions, including why the boy outside my window had a gun, when he looked to be just a couple years older than me. Dad advised me to keep my head down and stop talking. The car ride was pretty silent from that point on.
We went through a roundabout - so Irish - only to see a burned out city bus and flaming tires down one street. What is going on?
Tina's Dad drove down to meet us before crossing the border, so we followed him the whole way, with Tina in the car with us. Otherwise, I imagine my parents would have turned around to return to the Republic.
We drove up to their home, outside of Belfast, and the air was choked with smoke. My eyes itched and throat ached. While I can't remember much about being in Tina's house, I do remember looking outside her bedroom window that night, amazed to see stars winking through the hazy, heavy air.
No longer able to visit the city due to safety concerns around the 12th July holiday. On the evening of the 11th, Protestants set alight huge bonfires. Several stories high. More on this in coming posts (or Google it!). Though it was a few days out, tensions were high and riots had broken out over several issues in different communities. Hugh, Tina's Dad, suggested to my parents that we take Tina and go to their caravan. In Donegal. Back in the Republic! Yep, we fled the North (just as Tina did the summer before to visit us!)
What I remember from this part of the trip was lots of giggles from the backseat, learning that a caravan was a holiday trailer and biscuits were the word for cookie! The summer Tina stayed with us was the first time she had peanut butter and jelly together… not a combo they used in Ireland or the UK so she was thrilled we made more PB&J's in Donegal. (Seriously y'all. I remember gross McDonald's cheeseburgers and making PB&J's. World traveler… limited taste buds).
We were assured that the Antrim coast back in Northern Ireland would be safe and well worth our travels. Like most travelers to Ireland, my parents wanted to golf and drink whiskey. So off to Bushmills… I don't recall what us girls did while they toured a distillery and played a round. Hope my sister can fill me in (but I'm really thinking the answer is NAPPING! She was a college student, I was trying to navigate new time zones for the first time).
The stop that made the biggest impact on my memory was the Giant's Causeway - a magestic places where the rolling, green fields suddenly end at the edge of the island and drop suddenly, meeting the water with hexagonal basalt columns sticking out like an uneven tiled floor. We used up lots of energy hopping across the stones, standing on those built into the cliffs (the Organ Pipes), and trying not to get too wet in the frigid North Atlantic waves. I think this memory is so strong as I had something to compare it to in earlier travels to Mount Rushmore and the cliffs of Lake Superior. I was awed by it.
When I close my eyes and think of the scenery, I recall long stretches of abandoned (and chilly) beaches, white houses with thatched roofs that teetered precariously on the edge of hills, and many, many pastures. The stark change from what we first encountered when we crossed the border.
And even though we left through Belfast - escorted by a sheriff to the ferrydocks, on the 11th - I carried the beauty of NI with me, the happy memories with Tina and meeting her family, driving and dancing on beaches and other-worldly stones.
Our last experience in Northern Ireland was standing next to the shipyard where the Titanic was built - a white, padlocked fence between us and the famed Harland and Wolff drydock. When I learned that we were touching history, my skin tingled.
21 years later, I insisted that we had to visit again. That post is next!