Today, I took the train.

Shocking, isn't it? It wasn't that I necessarily needed to, I could have just as well hopped on a bus and made it back to my flat from Belfast, but, for adventure's sake, I took the train.

Today's reading music comes to you from possibly one of the best bands of all time ever, ever, ever (okay, maybe not, but they are my current obsession), The Weepies. Tune in and read on.



I do recommend watching that video and paying attention at some point, because while it might not be the best animated music video in the world, it's ADORABLE.

Anyway...today, I took the train. Before that, I bought a coat & scarf, and a Dr Pepper. Furthermore, I appear to have subconsciously starting capitalising things again. None of these things seems special, really, but for some reason, each experience seems to have left a very powerful impression on me.

First of all...coat shopping. If I haven't mentioned it before, it's cold here. And even as we're entering an indian summer here in Northern Ireland, that doesn't mean much for this humidity born-and-bred Virginia boy. Did I mention yet that it's cold here? So, after a meeting with all of the other YAVs, Nathaniel and I headed over to the downtown shopping district in Belfast, to a place called Primark. It's apparently been a favorite of the YAVs in the past, thanks to its cheap prices and HUGE selection...which would normally turn me off from shopping there (fair trade for the win), but, remarkably, Primark Stores Ltd. is committed to providing ethically traded products. Now, ethically and fairly traded still doesn't promise splendor and equality for all of those involved, but it at least makes you feel a little better than buying from, say, about half of Wal-Mart's clothing line. Check your tags...see where your clothes are made. Think about it for a while.

Enough about fair trade vs. free trade. Back to my coat. While Nathaniel was searching for long-sleeve tees and new jeans, I was wandering around the outerwear section of the store, trying to act like I wasn't intimidated by the flood of people with thick Irish accents surrounding me, and trying my best not to laugh at the lumberjack vest (think this pattern, but puffy...and a vest). Then I found a coat. It's very metropolitan (read: metrosexual), a black & white houndstooth pattern, sort of trench-coat-y. It looks awesome. So I'm happy.

Being happy with my coat, as material as this sounds, makes me feel a little more at home. I can head outside, put on my new coat and a nice red scarf, and feel warm...which makes it that much easier to smile at the folks walking by. It's great.

The Dr Pepper is a different story entirely. I never expected to admit this to the public, but I think it says something important about me: I have an embarrassing attachment to Taco Bell as comfort food. Not late-night hunger pang food (read: not texting my friends "OMG IT'S 2AM I NEED A TACO"), but comfort food. If I'm sad, I'll go get a taco. If I'm going on a long trip, the veggie option mexi-melt will do me right. I realise that this is odd, but it's who I am...I tried to change, especially when I was very officially a vegetarian for lent, but even then I couldn't resist...they offer every menu option with no meat!

Taco Bell (really, Mexican food outside of making it yourself) does not exist in Northern Ireland. I don't need to say it, but I will anyway...this is sad. So what's a boy to do?

Find some other comfort.

There are Subways EVERYWHERE. A KFC is opening in the town near my flat. I passed several McDonald's on my way into town today, and had a coffee at Starbuck's last week. None of these things appeal to me. Probably because I avoid them like the plague in the States.

Today, after I bought my train ticket home (£2.50, or about $4.15 US), I started perusing the little convenience store inside the station, intending to grab a copy of the Belfast Telegraph to read at home. Instead, I left £1 ($1.65 US) poorer and 1 Dr Pepper richer. You have to understand...there was a period in High School when I bought a Dr P every day. This lasted for approximately 2 years, then I just stopped drinking soda altogether, after realising what terrible things I was doing to my body. But now, drinking this delightful soda from the late 1800s reminds me of high school. I'd say that's pretty comforting.

(Incidentally, one of the places where I wouldn't mind spending the rest of my life, the Roanoke Valley area of Virginia, has been called the Dr Pepper capital of the world. Go me for choosing good places to want to live.)

The capitalisation is a different story entirely. I used to, aside from formal communications and papers for school, not capitalise anything other than names of God or pronouns relating to God. For a while, it was a good reminder to me that yes, God is more important than anything else I could ever write about, and it almost became a trademark (people would know if I had sent a mass e-mail to my campus ministry because NOTHING would be capitalised. Except for God, Jesus, etc...). Then I realised that this really bothers some folks, and really, what ministry of love is it if you're ticking people off in every e-mail you send? I'd say it's not one at all.

(Forgive this aside, it's just an odd thing I noticed today.)

Finally, I took the train home. The ride from Great Victoria Street Station to Derriaghy Station isn't long at all, but it was just enough time to write a few postcards and really soak in the fact that yes, I'm living in a real suburb of a real urban area. A city with public transportation. A city with the original DeLorean factory. A city that cares about recycling. A city plagued by economic and social displacement. A city almost persistently covered in rain. A city with a rich cultural heritage that often goes unnoticed amidst the scars of its history.

Whenever I run into a member of Kilmakee Presbyterian, or really any Norn Ironer, I hear the same question (and I expect to hear it for quite a while): "Are you settlin' in okay?" The following story illustrates this:

On Sunday afternoon, Aileen, the organist at KPC, drove me around Belfast to enjoy the European Heritage Open Days. We toured Stormont Estate, where the Parliament meets and the First and Deputy First Minister hold their offices, a beautiful tribute to the Scottish Baronial style (Katy, Doug, and Mr. Irby, that architecture reference was for you three), and went searching for the old pump house at the Gas Works, which is now essentially a state office park. For the last bit of our tour, we wandered into St. Malachy's Church, which was, for that day, completely open to the public.

Arriving at about 4:30pm, we realised they would be setting up for their evening Mass, so we took a seat and just watched. We watched various parishioners filtering in, and other laypersons moving microphones and music stands around the altar area, all preparing for worship. It was a mighty thing, even without knowing the history of the church. The original plan was to house 7,000 worshippers in the space, turning it into THE cathedral for the Diocese of Down and Connor, but the parish decided during the Great Famine, when it was being constructed, that the money would be best spent elsewhere, alleviating the hunger of the people. And yet, the church still stands as a model of simple beauty within the city. Sir Charles Brett wrote of the interior of the church: "It is as though a wedding cake has been turned inside out, so creamy, lacy and frothy is the plasterwork." It's entirely true...after suffering the effects of two bombings by the Luftwaffe, the ceiling of the church remains incredibly beautiful.

Aileen remarked on her 'ecumenicalism' as we chatted about our visit to the church. I was reminded very much of our traditions in the PC(USA)...we find much of our liturgical inspiration in the Ordinary of the Mass, and personally, I try to incorporate much of the spirituality of the early church into my daily life...my feeble attempts at New Monasticism, Lectio Divina, and the like. Talking with our site coordinator, Doug Baker, about this today, we realised that these things just don't happen here. It's a theology of "other-ness." Which is scary.

Thus, I am challenged to live out this "New Monasticism" a la Matthew 18, even more, in the hopes that this Christ-like life will inspire change...not necessarily for Northern Ireland, or Kilmakee Church, or anyone here. At the very least, God can build a kingdom in me.

In all sorts of spiritual ways, I actually quite UNsettled. But I have a coat, I can go buy a Dr Pepper for £1, and I can take the train for £2.50.

Today, I took the train. It gave me time to think. Therefore, I am (settlin' in okay).