Bowls

I spend every Thursday night playing Bowls, a Northern Irish game, with the Bowls Club at my church, Regent Street Presbyterian.

Holding my bowls.

 

Bowls is a game, popular throughout Northern Ireland, which can be played indoors or outdoors.  I play the indoor version.  As the picture above shows, each person has two bowls (similar to very small bowling balls) which then are thrown down the green (or mat) with the goal of getting as close as possible to the jack, a small yellow metal ball. To make things more complicated, each bowl has a bias in the inside of it which causes the bowl to arch when you throw it.  The key to playing good bowls is a soft, but accurate throw. As someone coming from a bowling (or ten-pin bowling, as it’s called here) background, it was very hard for me not to lob the bowls down the green. I have gotten better as the year’s gone on, but it’s still hard to resist the urge to throw the bowl as hard as I can.  

Part of the fun of being involved in the Bowls Club is the game, but most of it is the “craic”.  Craic is a word used often here and it means “fun, entertainment, and/or enjoyable conversation”.   Common expressions are “What’s the craic?” and “Good craic”.  

Most (actually, everyone but me ) of the people who participate in the Bowls Club fall under the category of Pensioner (or, Senior Citizen).  Despite the age difference, everyone has welcomed me and not made too much fun when I butchered the game.  It’s also been a way to get to know a lot of people in the church I probably wouldn’t have otherwise.

While it’s not necessarily how I would have chosen to spend my Thursday evenings, I’m really glad it’s where I ended up.  

 

 

Two of the greens.

 

Bowls, next to the jack.

 

Taking a shot.

 

A bowl up close.

 

The winning shot.

 

Playing bowls.

Cuppa Tea

 

Tea!

Since tea, and more specifically, the drinking of tea, has become a regular part of my life here in Belfast, I felt it deserved a post.  

I’ve always had an ambiguous relationship with tea.  Growing up in the Southern United States meant sweet tea was served at almost every social occasion.  I can remember numerous church functions where sweet tea and lemonade were the only beverages of choice.  I always opted for the lemonade.  In fact, drinking sweet tea was so prevalent, I almost felt I wasn’t truly “Southern” because I didn’t like it.  Every now and then I would try to drink some, hoping I had changed my mind about it, only to discover I still thought it was disgusting. 

Having been warned beforehand about the vast amounts of tea people drink in Northern Ireland, I was a little apprehensive.  Granted, this was hot tea, not sweet tea, but I still wasn’t looking forward to it.  

So, it was a nice surprise to discover I not only don’t hate hot tea, but I really like it! The best part about drinking tea in Northern Ireland is you aren’t just served tea. There are always (and I mean, always) biscuits(the Northern Irish equivalent of cookies) or traybakes, or some type of sweet served with it.  This fact is actually a point of pride in Northern Ireland.  People have said to me on many different occasions something to the effect of “You don’t get just a cup of tea here, not like England or Scotland…”.  

Tea drinking is such a part of life it has altered the local vocabulary; “cup of tea” has been shortened to “cuppa tea”.  Yes, “cuppa” is a real word; it’s in the dictionary. There’s even an application for the iPhone called the iCuppa to time your tea while it steeps.

There is something really nice about a hot cup of tea on a cold, rainy day (most days in Belfast) that just isn’t the same as any other drink.

Tea, apparently, is so fantastic it has inspired some super ridiculous quotations. I leave you with several of those:

1) Tea does our fancy aid,
    Repress those vapours which the head invade
    And keeps that palace of the soul serene.
   ~Edmund Waller, “Of Tea”

Tea affects the soul? Who knew?

2) Tea, although an Oriental
    Is a gentleman at least;
    Cocoa is a cad and coward,
    Cocoa is a vulgar beast.
   ~G.K. Chesterton, “The Song of Right and Wrong”

What does G.K. Chesterton have against hot chocolate?

3)  Tea! thou soft, thou sober, sage, and venerable liquid,… thou female tongue-running, smile-smoothing, heart-opening, wind-tippling cordial, to whose glorious insipidity I owe the happiest moment of my life, let me fall prostrate. ~Colley Cibber, Lady’s Last Stake

…huh?!

 4)  And, my personal favorite:

The first sip of tea is the always the best… you cringe as it burns the back of your throat, knowing you just had the hottest carpe-diem portion. ~Terri Guillemets

A Word About The “Been”…

 

As most of you have probably noticed, my blog is titled “Ballybeen’s Blog”.  

Ballybeen (pronounced “b-alley-bean”) is the name of the public housing estate in which I live.  Public housing estates are most easily defined as government subsidized housing.  They are the rough equivalent of the “projects” in the States.  That being said, most, if not all, are much nicer than their American counterparts.  

The estates in Northern Ireland are significant because of the cultural role they have played in the conflict here.  They are a place where one can see, most clearly, the deep divisions that still exist in Belfast and the rest of Northern Ireland. Each estate can be associated with either the Protestant or Catholic side of the conflict.  Clear visual clues throughout the different estates make it obvious which group the residents belong to.  

Ballybeen is a Protestant, or Loyalist, estate.  For more information on the history of Ballybeen, go here: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ballybeen.  

Below are some pictures of the estate.

 

This sign stands at one of the entrances.

 

This sign, on one of the apartment buildings, makes it very clear what type of estate Ballybeen is.

 

Davarr Avenue! My house is the third one from the left, behind the flag pole.

 

A close-up of the house.

 

Red, white, and blue, the colors of the Union Jack, are painted on light posts and street curbs, making it clear Ballybeen is Protestant.

 

Union Jacks are flown around different parts of Ballybeen.

 

More red, white, and blue.

 

A red, white, and blue street-curb.

 

Red, white, and blue pennants.

 

The field in front of my house.

 

Most estates have a memorial similar to this one dedicated to people who have lost their lives during "The Troubles".

 

A poem at the memorial.

 

An engraving at the memorial.

 

Bird's eye view.

 

I hope this has given everyone a better understanding of the cultural context in which I live. Thanks for letting me share Ballybeen (or, just the “Been” as my flatmate, Madeline, and I affectionately call it 🙂 ) with you!