We awoke this morning to the muffled sound of screams and distance shots being fired from across the street to our hostel. No, that’s a lie. Sorry about that. The screams weren’t muffled, they were loud as all hell. Haha, another joke. There were no shots and no screaming. But there should have been. Belfast is one scary town to live in. The saving grace of the place was the fantastic hostel – it was simple: the room only had beds, a heater and no sink, but the facilities were perfectly adequate for our needs. Free WiFi in the room was a godsend. It’s amazing how much WiFi can aid the inquisitive traveller. We broke our fast at around 9am, with some delicious and nutritious bubbles of rice. Then we grabbed our stuff, left our keys, and walked into the city centre.
We first went to the Europa bus terminal to see if we could leave our bags until 12pm (as we didn’t have to be at the airport until 1pm). They said no. So we dragged our bags right into the middle of the city, Matt went in search of a book at the Waterstones (along the way a very friendly “typical” Irish gentleman helped us find where the bookstore was located – never, ever in Brisbane, I believe, would a random man on the street help two travellers who were looking confused as to which direction to head), and I waited outside with our luggage. I’m amazed at the amount of beggars that Belfast has – most of them are women of Turkish descent, all of whom claim to have children to feed. Being poor and weary student travellers, Matt and I decline to help most of these people. Buskers, on the other hand, are awesome. You know, people who at least try to work for their money – unlike all you God damn Ruddlovers.
Matt found a book to purchase. Then we headed for Topshop, had a quick look and took a photo outside of it for the future Dr. Elliot Dolan-Evans (Esq.). He shall be privy to this photo upon our return to the sunburnt country.
We went back to Europa bus terminal, and boarded a bus bound for “Belfast Airport”. I asked the bus driver if we were going to the right airport (BHD) and he said “Yes mate, this is the bus for the International Airport”. We were heading to Glasgow, so we paid for our tickets and jumped on board. We bussed all the way to Belfast Airport, where Matt commented “Never, ever, EVER will I return to Belfast”. We jumped off the bus and walked inside. And I couldn’t, for the life of me, locate where the Flybe (Airline) check-in counter was. I asked a man at the Information desk, and he informed me that Flybe don’t fly into this airport – they fly into the CITY airport (BHD). So I had been lied to by a bus driver (shock horror, a dishonest prick of a bus driver – universal, it seems), and we were at the wrong airport. Luckily I am extremely anal about time, so it was 10:30am and our flight didn’t leave until 4:05pm.
So we jumped in a cab bound for Belfast City Airport. The cost? 29 quid. Altogether, it cost the both of us 43 quid to get to the airport – equivalent of $86 AUD.
Irony: not half an hour after Matt claimed he’d never return to Belfast, where do you think we end up. In a fucking Cab, in the middle of Belfast. God works in mysterious (and sometimes smartass’d) ways.
We made it to Belfast airport and checked in – WORD OF CAUTION TO THE UNSEASONED UK TRAVELLER – if you fly with Flybe, be aware they charge an extra 18 QUID ($36) if you want to check in ONE BAG under 20kgs – ludicrous, as the ticket itself was only about $36, but what can you do). We chilled out for the next few hours, Matt did some reading and I engaged in some quick and pleasant conversation on the phone with some extremely pleasant people. Then came 3:35pm, and it was time to board our flight. We jumped on to this tiny plane with two propellers (as Billy Connolly would say, you could smell the glue drying on the wings). Twenty five minutes later, we were in Glasgow. I shit you not. Shortest flight I have ever taken in my life. Did not even get time to finish the in-flight magazine - which is probably a good thing, because it was awful.
Picked up our bags at Glasgow airport, and headed outside. As soon as you walk out the doors, Airport – City Bus. Cost? 3.30 quid. Amazing. Had free WiFi, so with our iPhones we found it extremely easy to know exactly where we were, and then to navigate once we got off the bus at Glasgow Central Station to our Hostel (which was about ten minutes walk).
First thoughts of Glasgow? It’s awesome. Buildings that are taller than five stories! And cleanliness! And attractive people! And no immediate and ever present threat of impending danger or death! It’s only night time now, but already we both LOVE this place fifteen times more than Belfast (100 times more for me – Matt).
Arriving at the Hostel, we were impressed as it had an actual lobby. You know your standards have been lowered when you see a lobby and you’re impressed. We checked in, and went to the lift (yes, this was exciting too, having an elevator) and took it up to the 7th floor. The room is, for lack of a better phrase, pretty awesome. It’s like a really shit hotel room, but it has SPACE, and it has a TOILET and a SHOWER, and it has BEDS. So it’s all we need. Very impressed with this place. While it may be a really shit hotel quality room, it’s a really awesome hostel quality room.
We had a pint downstairs at the Osmosis Bar, and have just dined with the Colonel (Sanders, that is), and returned back to our humble abode. There’s free WiFi in the Osmosis bar, so I guess I’ll head down there to post this blog. That’s all for now! Thank God Hellfast is finally GlasGONE!
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