Belfast
On a sullen, turbulent, and stormy Good Friday in 1998, a collection of exhausted and deeply stressed politicians – people who had spent the better part of three decades detesting one another – managed to gather in Belfast and accomplish something that had seemed completely impossible only a few years before. They agreed not to blow each other up anymore. It was an extraordinarily convoluted, messy, and sleep-deprived affair, mixed with last-minute walkouts and a heroic eleventh-hour intervention from an American senator named George Mitchell. Mitchell, who clearly possessed the patience of a saint and the stamina of a marathon runner, managed, against inconceivable forces, in the face of fiercely divided loyalties, and at a time when optimism had long since taken a holiday, to bring both sides together long enough to put pen to paper and limp a peace deal across the line. What his efforts proved was that sometimes, if you leave desperate people in a locked room for long enough with a mountain of bad coffee, common sense might just prevail.
Before the ink was dry on the peace agreement, officials, residents and visitors alike were left with the sobering realisation that Belfast was in fact a thoroughly drab, grey and unloved sort of place. Decades of turmoil had driven away all the major international retail brands, leaving behind a heavy fortified ring of steel that no-one really wanted to shop in, and at its heart was an area affectionately termed the ‘Grotty Core’. It was an architectural nightmare – a gloomy trifecta of an unloved public square, a raw concrete multi-storey car park, and a cluster of government office blocks, all of which combined to make a day out in central Belfast less like a pleasurable experience and more like a rather depressing prison sentence. Clearly, something needed to be done to signal that Belfast was a safe place, and it was open for business. It needed to be both significant and monumental. So, in a moment of symbolic revival, authorities packed 94 kilograms of explosives into Churchill House – a depressing nineteen-storey monolith of British bureaucracy – and blew it to smithereens. In its place, a shiny new multi-million pound shopping complex would be built.
Once the rubble was cleared, onto the 1.8 hectares of vacant central city land stepped the Building Design Partnership (BDP), armed with an ambitious and grand design that would bring with it civic pride, economic relief, and a much-needed dose of optimism. The idea was as simple as it was bold, to restore Belfast to being a European city by creating a shopping experience that drew on its European origins.
Named the Victoria Square Shopping Centre, its designers had an ambitious and lofty goal. To bring the atmosphere of a grand, open-air European boulevard into a multi-level shopping complex in the middle of Belfast. Which, to be fair, they gave it a decent crack. Colonnaded streets and pedestrian avenues were designed to mimic the open-air arcades found in continental European cities, creating a modern shopping experience with the feel as if you’re wandering through a Mediterranean shopping area, only with a Belfast climate!
Once finished, among the many features of the wonderful complex, it boasted 106 luxury apartments and more than 100 shops. It had taken four years to construct and came with an impressive price tag of nearly £400 million. Upon completion, the complex was a stunning triumph and a wonderful breakthrough for the city of Belfast. When Victoria Square opened its doors, it instantly grew Belfast’s retail sector by 33% as over 100,000 people walked through the complex on opening day. It created 3000 permanent jobs and international brands such as House of Fraser, Apple and Tommy Hilfiger opening stores were seen as an historic economic shift for the city.
The crowning glory of the entire complex – the cherry on top if you will – was a huge glass dome that sat an impressive 45 metres off the ground. Made up of 635 individual triangular panes of glass held in place by a massive steel framework weighing 200,000 kilograms – it was the equivalent of roughly 40 adult elephants floating effortlessly above the city. When finished, the dome provided an impressive 360-degree panoramic view of the Belfast skyline, which the public could enjoy from a public viewing platform, offering views that stretch from the historic Belfast City Hall and the contours of Cavehill, all the way across to the towering yellow Harland and Wolff cranes in the Titanic Quarter.
The only problem with all of this was that engineers quickly discovered during the design process that what they had created was in actual fact a giant hotplate above the streets of Belfast. On the rare occasions that Belfast had a sunny day, the dome would act as a massive glasshouse and without intervention, the viewing platform and streets below would become unbearably hot. The solution was a stroke of genius. Instead of pulling the whole thing apart, the solution came in the form of a simple rotating fabric solar sail designed to track the sun throughout the day, filtering out the intense glare and heat of the Belfast sun, naturally regulating the open-air microclimate below so everyone could happily go about their day without having to worry about being burnt to a crisp or spontaneously combusting while shopping for socks!
As impressive as all this was, the thing about building a viewing platform 40 metres in the air, under 635 panes, providing a 360-degree view of the city, is that once it is there, you have to get people up there to use it! This was solved by constructing what looks like a space-age plant from a futuristic version of ‘Jack and the Bean Stalk’. So everyone could see the wondrous complex on their way to the top, a glass elevator was installed so shoppers could soak up the vista on the way up, while a glass spiral staircase was wrapped around the outside for those feeling a bit more enthusiastic.
Earlier in the day, my wife and I had met up with a close family friend from home who happened to be in Belfast too, largely because she grew up in a village just down the road. Faced with the choice of catching up over coffee or joining me for a hike to the top of the dome to see the skyline, they had opted for the coffee, agreeing we’d all regroup once I’d finished.
Having to ascend to the top solo, I opted for the stairs, mainly so I could proudly announce to everyone that I took the more adventurous way. I had intended to count the steps and store the information away so I could “wow” people at a favourable juncture in the future with my amazingly worldly knowledge. Unfortunately, my counting was interrupted during the ascent.
About halfway up, I found my way blocked by two American tourists whose booming voices and brash, confident energy filled the otherwise quiet trail. In full stride, and feeling confident that I would “knock the bastard off” without the assistance of an oxygen tank strapped to my back, I suddenly found myself confronted by a couple wearing pristine white sneakers, matching baseball caps, and oversized brand-name outdoor gear, looking as though they’d just stepped out of a high-end sporting goods store.I had heard them before I’d seen them. Across the void echoed the sound of:
“Oh my God, Brenda, look at the view!” the man exclaimed in a heavy American accent that carried effortlessly through the air and bounced off the distant walls.
“That is just spectacular!”
“I know, right?!” Brenda boomed back, instantly matching his volume.
“Holy cow, Don, it looks like the best thing we’ve ever seen!”
I pushed past, trying not to make eye contact or be drawn into a photo that would undoubtedly be added to what was clearly an already extensive album of their travels so far. After a few more rotations of the spiral staircase, it suddenly dawned on me that I’d lost count of the steps! Faced with the dilemma of heading back down to start again, thereby once more tackling Brenda and Don, or simply pushing on to the summit, I decided to leave them to their OMG moments and continue upwards.
At the top, I marvelled at the spectacular view of Belfast and imagined what it must be like on a fine day. I took some photos, enjoyed the view some more, and spotted a few of the Belfast landmarks before deciding to make my descent.
I emerged from the complex hungry and thirsty, and my camera bag was beginning to feel heavy. I pulled out my phone where a text message from my wife read “in the Spaniard”. “On my way” I replied before I shifted from messages to maps, typed in “The Spaniard Pub” and headed into the surrounding streets, arriving without incident, apart from the momentary distraction of a few alleyways where the light was doing interesting things. Before long I came across a building that had “The Spaniard” splashed across it; figuring this must be it, I shuffled in with the afternoon crowd where I found them tucked away at a table, happily talking and laughing as good friends do. I pulled up a chair and joined them and after a round of greetings, my wife inquired:
“Where have you been? We were starting to think you were lost?”
“Well, you see there was this alleyway that I thought looked kinda interesting, so I thought I’d just …”
“There’s always an interesting alleyway” she quipped with a smile as a pint and a bowl of fries were pushed in front of me. Both were gone in mere moments as my empty glass was quickly replaced with another. The place was small yet snug and lively – I was beginning to enjoy Belfast!