Easter Lilies

I was walking around Belfast and happened upon a pub not too far from the city center. Inside, the people were singing - exactly the sort of atmosphere I wanted to experience, so I went in. They were actually singing "This Land Is My Land" (which I always thought was just an American song). Afterwards, they started singing stuff more Irish, which basically cursed the Orange men and imagined a day when their land would be free. It was absolutely fantastic. The pub was small - though I've been to smaller - so it was a bit difficult to get a seat. When I did, it wasn't too long before I had to share my table with four other guys who spoke of things that would make Padraig Pearse and Michael Collins smile.

I have never been one to "luck" into such a great experience like that - call it the luck of the Irish, even though I'm only a quarter potato famished - but somehow I managed it then. Sadly, I didn't make it to West Belfast in time for the proper Easter parade. I got there in time for what may have been the last one - just a small do by some Irish socialists - long after Martin McGuinness had buggered down to Dublin for their parade. It still ranks up there with the whole swimming with sharks thing in Oahu I did the summer before.