Uncanny Valley
Jul. 29th, 2024 04:25 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
tamara_in_jakartaMy kids call it a blip in the matrix. I don't know what to call it.
You visit family, even in a war zone, although it was a white war zone, and still had a happening bar scene and ice cream trucks. Childhood memories visiting family in Belfast ranged from air band contests and ice cream headaches to learning what kneecapping meant, getting the hell out of town the week of 12 July and learning from (barely) older cousins that you had to put dish soap in with the petrol in a molotov cocktail so the flames would spread and stick, allowing for better photos in the press. That one cousin worked at the Europa Hotel bar, the most bombed hotel in Europe at the time (33 times between 1971 and 1994). This is my baseline.
As an adult, living in Switzerland, I went back, while dating a guy who was working there, and spending quite a lot of time in Belfast. The city was alive, great nightlife, culture, there was a mosque on Landsdowne Road and the barriers in the walls were all open. Everything seemed normal, but just a bit off. There's still a bunch of kids setting furniture on fire where the Ulster Youth Militants used to hang out.
My Belfast man (who was Greek actually) had a shit car. It died one night on the way to the cinema and we pushed it off to an empty parking lot. Called the auto club, no big deal. Until an armored police van pulled in and two police in full riot gear stepped out, clubs drawn, asking what we were doing. Once it was clear we were just stupid, not dangerous, they told us we couldn't leave the car there or it would be removed and detonated and had to move it in an hour.
While driving, I found myself in the wrong lane and had to cut across three lanes of rush hour traffic. Not a single honk, everyone just stopped, waved me past. Where can anyone do that?
A red panda kept escaping from the zoo and going to a shopping mall nearby. I saw it once standing by the claw machine peering inside.
Blips. Just blips.
You visit family, even in a war zone, although it was a white war zone, and still had a happening bar scene and ice cream trucks. Childhood memories visiting family in Belfast ranged from air band contests and ice cream headaches to learning what kneecapping meant, getting the hell out of town the week of 12 July and learning from (barely) older cousins that you had to put dish soap in with the petrol in a molotov cocktail so the flames would spread and stick, allowing for better photos in the press. That one cousin worked at the Europa Hotel bar, the most bombed hotel in Europe at the time (33 times between 1971 and 1994). This is my baseline.
As an adult, living in Switzerland, I went back, while dating a guy who was working there, and spending quite a lot of time in Belfast. The city was alive, great nightlife, culture, there was a mosque on Landsdowne Road and the barriers in the walls were all open. Everything seemed normal, but just a bit off. There's still a bunch of kids setting furniture on fire where the Ulster Youth Militants used to hang out.
My Belfast man (who was Greek actually) had a shit car. It died one night on the way to the cinema and we pushed it off to an empty parking lot. Called the auto club, no big deal. Until an armored police van pulled in and two police in full riot gear stepped out, clubs drawn, asking what we were doing. Once it was clear we were just stupid, not dangerous, they told us we couldn't leave the car there or it would be removed and detonated and had to move it in an hour.
While driving, I found myself in the wrong lane and had to cut across three lanes of rush hour traffic. Not a single honk, everyone just stopped, waved me past. Where can anyone do that?
A red panda kept escaping from the zoo and going to a shopping mall nearby. I saw it once standing by the claw machine peering inside.
Blips. Just blips.
no subject
Date: 2024-07-31 11:37 pm (UTC)Dan