| The Giants causeway - Northern Ireland
Another road trip. This time to the North. We drove to the East of Lake Noagh a large expanse of water smack bang in the middle of the state. First stop was the Bushmills’ distillery to sample some local product before spending the afternoon on the windswept coast and exploring the geological feature known as the Giants Causeway, an outcrop of basalt columns that poke up at random heights like a shaken pack of cigarettes or French fries.
The coastline here is truly spectacular with sheer cliffs dropping a hundreds metres to fierce seas pounding rocky beaches. Here and there ancient ruins and quaint houses cling to the edges seemingly one good storm away from plunging to the maelstrom below. Sleepwalkers would not last very long here.
The thing that strikes you about Northern Ireland is how incredibly normal it is and yet under the surface, and sometimes right in your face, is intolerant bullshit of an unbelievable scale. Drumcree was a classic example. The scene at the church was like a carnival with rides for the kiddies and stalls selling sweets and wares to throngs of the assembled. Yet all around were soldiers with machine guns, cops in full riot gear, armoured cars driving past and helicopter gunships competing with news choppers for airspace. The entrance to the Garvaghy Road was blocked by an immense metal gate - Like something designed to defend against King Kong or Godzilla. On either side were wire fences and coil upon coil of barb and razor wire stretching into the distance. We drove past police stations that were in fact min castles complete with watch towers, searchlights and sand bags. Away from the pubs the tensions of daily life became apparent.
On our return south from the Causeway we were continually diverted by cops and soldiers around trouble spots that we later found out were generally felled trees or other improvised road blocks designed to cause nuisance. Later in the pub we asked our friend Martin the barman why the first people along didn’t just push it off the road, as some of these barriers were not exactly gigantic elms. He answered that there was always someone watching and if anyone other than the cops or military touched it they would receive a polite reminder to mind their business or else. The end result was that our trip home took an hour longer than planned as we ended up being diverted as far as Omagh before we could swing back in the right direction. Our experiences of The Troubles appeared minor with most incidents seemingly being small irritants rather than all out aggression. Indeed we saw numerous examples of smiling soldiers playing soccer with kids in the streets and as we drove through the town of Omagh it seemed calm and peaceful and a world away from sectarian strife. A few days after our return to Australia the centre of town was ripped apart by a car bomb illustrating how the tensions can quickly escalate from petulance to violence in a heartbeat. | 
