Is it Derry or Londonderry?
Trip Start
Apr 25, 2008
1
7
12
Trip End
Ongoing
Derry,
Northern Ireland,
United Kingdom
Sunday, May 4, 2008
*I somehow had the idea that Derry was the city in the area known as Londonderry; in fact, both names refer to the same place - the city was originally called Derry, then renamed Londonderry when the Brits brought Scots to the area. Now you can't refer to the place without implying an allegiance - Catholics and Nationalists refer to it as Derry, Protestants and Unionists refer to it as Londonderry. Maps produced in the north will typically label it Londonderry; maps produced in the Republic often label it Derry.
We had a "tourist moment" shortly after our arrival - we had a full page map of the area, from which we had guessed the size to be roughly similar to Belfast (Derry is the second largest city in the North). The wall around the city centre is only a mile in circumference, so it's only about four blocks from one side to the other. We ended up getting to walk all over the city. The bogside is the Catholic side of town, and features two-storey high murals on the sides of apartment buildings recounting the key events of Bloody Sunday. They're much more artistically produced than Belfast murals (commissioned by artists instead of by neighborhood amateurs), and slightly less vitriolic. The symbolism is very blatant, and accompanying plaques make sure that you don't miss the point. My favorite is the peace mural - a forty foot dove and oak leaf on a rainbow-hued backgrough. They've reclaimed one set of apartments for a small museum that we went through - the woman at the entry found us a few times as we went though and pointed out where things had happened. It turns out her brother was one of the people who died. Bloody Sunday started as a peace march - clergy at the front, couples brought their kids - Unionist soldiers were vastly outnumbered, and struggling to keep the march outside the city walls. Fourteen people were killed that day, giving the IRA a huge propaganda victory and making tension and violence in the North much worse.
On our way out of town, we walked through the Fountains, the Protestant neighborhood, which also features a few murals, much smaller, but similarly beautiful. Whereas Free Derry was very open and we were greeted with a lot of smiles and saw a lot of kids playing in the yards, the Fountains are a much quieter neighborhood - people peeked at us through windows and across the streets, but no one spoke to us or even smiled. We didn't see a soul under fifty, making us suspect that their kids had all moved away.
On the train ride back, "Alan" joined us at our table. He came right out of central casting (or, as I like to think of it, the Society for the Preservation of Cliches and Stereotypes). He was hammered - reeked of tobacco and hard liquor - and halfway to toothless. He charmed us with jokes and tunes and appreciations of all things American (especially JFK and Hillary Clinton and Johnny Cash). I was a little leery of him at first, then greatly saddened (he had been visiting his daughter and his grandson). Brian seemed amused at first, but the amusement turned quickly to annoyance (in addition to being loud and smelling bad, he was also a fountain of intolerance - Catholics, blacks, women).
We endured his company until he got tired of us and moved to another compartment. Two stops later, some kids threw a brick at the window opposite us. It was safety glass, so nothing came flying at us, but the thwack was very loud and alarming, and the whole pane was shattered into pieces no bigger than gravel. The kids sitting next to the window were pretty freaked out, but the conductor was pretty nonchalant once he saw that there was no broken glass on the seats and no one was hurt. Brian and I spent the rest of the ride mulling over the irony - couldn't wait to get back to the safety of Belfast.
