BELFAST, Northern Ireland – These days, when you cross from the Republic of Ireland into Northern Ireland, there are no British soldiers standing guard and checking cars for bombs.
There are no gates to pass through or any noticeable differences at the border – except that a line painted on the side of the street switches from yellow to white.
There are no clues that you’ve entered a region emerging from a deadly, sectarian, war-torn past between residents who remain loyal to England and favor its control over Northern Ireland and Irish who want freedom from British rule and to live in one, united Ireland.
With a power-sharing agreement in place since 1998 and the Northern Ireland Assembly finally seated, paramilitary groups have put down their guns and British soldiers have left the border.
Although Northern Ireland remains part of the United Kingdom, the region is stepping away from a legacy of terror and is tiptoeing into a new era of hope.
And tourists are trickling in.
“Northern Ireland used to be Iraq,” said Stephen McPhilemy, our guide from the Dublin-based Paddywagon Tours as he led our caravan on a three-day tour of the region. “Now it’s Northern Ireland. Young kids here today have never heard gunshots.”
More than 3,600 were killed from the 1960s through the 1990s, a period known as The Troubles, which involved clashes between English loyalists and Irish Republican paramilitaries.
Although the parliament in Northern Ireland has collapsed twice since the signing of the peace accord, it’s up and running and vying to develop a fat economy for its 1.7 million residents.
Packed tour buses are rolling into the region. About 1.7 million overseas visitors in 2006 – 2 percent more than in 2005 – ventured through this mysterious, mythical and often-misunderstood land that has long been ignored by outsiders.
Many are curious and want to tour political murals found in such cities as Derry and Belfast. The artwork testifies to the region’s bloody history and struggle for equal rights.
Derry or Londonderry
More than 105,000 people call this city home, and the name you use depends on who you are. To Irish Catholics, it’s Derry, the original name of the town. But in the 1600s, the British came to town and changed its name to Londonderry.
The city’s name has been a source of contention ever since.
Heading to town, you see the word “London” crossed off Londonderry street signs. Other signs on the outskirts instead refer to it as The Walled City – for the 400-year-old walls inside – in order to keep the peace.
Catholics and Protestants are segregated in this city. And while that appears to be a religious division, the long-standing conflict of Northern Ireland has nothing to do with the church.
Instead, it’s been a fierce struggle between nationalities over power and control. About 56 percent of the people in the region are Protestant and side with the English, while 44 percent are Catholic and feel Irish.
“I read a U.S. newspaper that called the IRA Catholic guerillas,” said McPhilemy. “But the war had nothing to do with religion.”
Derry will always be known for Bloody Sunday. On Jan. 30, 1972, 14 young Irish men staging a civil rights demonstration were shot to death by British soldiers in front of reporters and the public.
Following the deadly shootout, a British government investigation cleared the soldiers and England of blame. Outraged families campaigned for a second investigation, and in 1998 then-Prime Minister Tony Blair called for a second inquiry. Known as the Saville Inquiry, the results have not yet been released.
This capital of Northern Ireland, and home to about 277,000, saw the brunt of the violence during the decades of The Troubles.
Although lethal clashes have subsided since 1998, you can quickly get in touch with the city’s grim past through Black Taxi Tours of Belfast.
On 90-minute tours, these four-passenger private cabs are driven by guides who provide a wealth of history and impartial commentary about Belfast as they whisk you past historical sites known mostly for violence.
The Europa Hotel, for example, stands gleaming and bright today in the heart of the city center, but it has the infamous reputation of being one of the world’s most bombed hotels. It suffered more than 30 bomb attacks during The Troubles. Paramilitaries seeking global attention often targeted the hotel because it was typically filled with journalists in town to cover sectarian conflict, said Hans Jillings, our Black Taxi Tour driver.
As the tour traveled past Falls Road, Jillings pointed to high-rise flats, home to many Catholics. The British military was stationed on the top three floors for years and used the Catholics as shields, Jillings said.
The military pulled out of the flats nearly two years ago. In fact, the British military has greatly reduced its presence in Northern Ireland during the last 10 years, slowly shrinking its military size from 30,000 to about 5,500, McPhilemy said.
Practically around the corner from Falls Road, we pulled over at Shankill Road, home to a Protestant working-class neighborhood painted with murals reflecting loyalist causes. The two areas rocked with violence during The Troubles.
Murals of men pointing rifles are dubbed the Irish Mona Lisa, because everywhere you turn, they are looking directly at you.
As we took pictures of the area, Jillings warned us not to snap photos of residents because they might think you have deceptive motives.
“They say the war is over, but not everybody has relaxed,” Jillings said. “If they see you taking their picture, they will take your film. And that will be the least of your problems.”
Jillings, who began these tours in 1995 during a cease fire, had bricks hurled at his car during the early days, he said.
Although the atmosphere in Belfast has transformed from bloody conflict to post-war cosmopolitan, it will take time to heal its many open wounds.
While the fighting has subsided – aside from a sprinkle of small-town flare-ups – Catholics and Protestants are not necessarily standing around engaging in group hugs. But they are looking at ways to integrate.
And as the fragile region steps away from its painful past, its new leaders are seeking to build a thriving economy for the residents.
The North’s First Minister, Ian Paisley, and Deputy First Minister Martin McGuinness – once enemies – traveled to the United States in December for photo opportunities on Wall Street and with President Bush, hoping to show American investors how times have changed for the better in Northern Ireland.
Around Belfast, which has the industrial look and feel of Long Beach, there is a spark of optimism, as well as signs that the region is moving ahead: Recently, an IKEA store opened up.
And, with Scotland rejecting Donald Trump’s plans to build a $1 billion resort there, some Northern Ireland officials now hope to lure the American business tycoon across the sea.
Ironically, as Northern Ireland polishes its tarnished image, its haunted, tortured past remains one of its most attractive selling points for overseas visitors.