Day 4 – May 13 – Tuesday : Me, a Physicist?

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We began our official tour of Ireland today. The first stop was the Castle of Carrickfergus, which I guess the only picture I got of it was this one as we were walking towards it. The wind was quite brisk and cool, despite the sunshine, and maybe that was why Abbie was holding on so tightly to the rail. Looks like the prevailing winds may have even caused the railing to lean inland. From the looks of things below the castle, one can assume the tide was out at the time we were there.

From there we went on up the coast a little ways to Larne, Whitehead, where there’s a lighthouse. I got pictures of the countryside along the way, but for all you lighthouse lovers, sorry…no photo. Going to the lighthouse meant a climb up a hill and we decided to stay along the beach and see the colorful sights. Not only the moss along the sea wall was colorful (above), but some of the houses were, too. As we’re finding out, the folks here in Ireland are not afraid of painting their houses bright colors.

The railroad runs through Whitehead, so we criss-crossed it several times, either under it, across it at a level crossing, or by means of the footbridge, as these ladies must have done thousands of times in their lives. Other sights included bright flowers that almost seem to light up and an empty sunlit yard.

This particular style of brick-and-stone work must have been in vogue at one period, as the nearby church used the same construction method.

Later that evening, after dinner, I had paid and was standing waiting for others in the party to pay their bills. A man beside me struck up a conversation, first about the food, and then one thing led to another and we began to exchange information about where we’re from and where we live. By this time, his wife and three (?) boys had come up, but I hadn’t noticed them behind me.

It was a pleasure talking with this family. Although our conversation was brief, the boys seemed very well-mannered, and they – parents and children – gave the sense of being a family. The mother, it turns out, has distant relatives in Madeira, as her ancestors left the island to go to Brazil, and today she is married to an Irishman and living in Belfast. The man asked whether by any chance I am a physicist. Apparently, their family had been observing our party during dinner and a discussion had ensued regarding who we were and what we might have been doing. The oldest boy (12 or 13, I judge) had concluded I must be a physicist. There are a lot worse things that people have thought of me, to be sure, but I wonder if it was because of my hair. I mean, just look at Einstein; anybody could tell he was a physicist just by his hair. Maybe Abbie’s right when she tells me to do a better job of combing my hair.