Life in this city is a slight differing from my sweet hometown (and adopted hometown) of Tulsa and Siloam Springs. Here is a little list of my favorite eccentricities:
-Food comes from real animals. If you pass a sheep on the side of the road (which, in itself is weird) you may very well have that sheep for supper if you order it later.
-Pants do not mean pants. Pants mean skivvies. Trousers are pants. So when you tell someone their pants are cute, they flip thinking they're showing off their unders.
-Jumpers are sweaters and not little denim dresses your mom made you wear over your turtlenecks as a child.
-Cars don't mind a bit about pedestrians! Meaning, they will run you over in a blink. Because of this, I like to play a game called, "Who'd get hit first" when it comes to crossing the street. If there is someone coming from the opposite side whose crossing would be more dangerous, then I feel free to pass. That or following someone in front of me. Ladies with strollers are a favorite. I'm not evil. I swear.
-Bikes aren't allowed on the sidewalk.
-A little green coated man comes about the neighborhood each night to delitter it. Belfast is one of the cleanest cities I've ever been in. They take littering seriously.
-Outgoing mail goes in community mailboxes and not in individual mailboxes. That way, the postman only comes to your door if he has mail for you.
-People don't respond to "thank you" with "you're welcome." Instead, they give you an awkward "Ok." Shelby and I have been noticing this since the start, but we've realized that when they actually do use the word "welcome," they mean it in the sense that they're happy you've come along. "You're very welcome here."
-The post office asked if I wanted Christmas stamps. DUH. No trees, no sparkly lights, no santa or snow men. The Virgin Mary. Naturally.
-Everyone says "Hiya!" in greeting. It's all I can do to resist quoting Heavyweights.
-"Wee." A wee receipt, a wee second, a wee jumper, a wee nap, a wee sumo wrestler.
-Guy Fawkes day is actually celebrated. The Irish love a good political insurrection. I was out last night and folks in GF masks were drum circling it up at the gates of City Hall.
-Boxing Day is also a recognized holiday. I've already begun a list of ways that I can purposely misunderstand it when the time comes.
-The bus system. The bus really comes when it darn well pleases. A minute before the anticipated time, five minutes after the anticipated time, so early or so late that two buses come simultaneously. No matter at all! And sometimes, it just doesn't come at all. I do not take the bus for granted. When I see it turn onto the street or come up the hill, a Princess Diaries movie scene comes into mind. It's raining, she's in a top-down convertible, and her car has died, leaving her stranded. Then, out of the darkness, two headlights *cue victorious music*. Her bodyguard has found her and whisks her away to the ball. Those are my feelings toward the bus driver every time.
There are so many more, but that's a good wee start to whet your fancy.
[Unrelated happening worth note: I'm writing again! I'm writing content for a company. Submitted 3 articles Monday and have a few more to write today. Hooray and hallelujah!]
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