I've flown into Belfast for a family wedding of dear friends. The overnight flight was a good one. But as I wait in line at UK Customs, there is an officer who keeps looking at me, and not in a good way. She looks like the British actress Brenda Blethyn - petite and unassuming but with a determined pursed lip and an inner bad-ass bubbling near the surface. Sure enough, I end up with her to be processed. I make it a policy never to take a border crossing for granted, so I'm on my best behavior. She swipes my passport and stares me down. She looks briefly at the screen but otherwise locks in on me. I feel like I need to apologize but I don't know for what. Eventually, she relents and nods me through. Good grief. Do I look that dodgy?
Despite no doubt having a million last minute wedding things to do, my friends are at the airport to greet the flight. Classy. They sit my bleary-eyed butt in their car and we zip off to run some errands in Belfast. It is a beautiful warm, sunny day - a great way to frame my arrival. Immediately, I'm struck by what a vibrant city Belfast is - nothing like my impressions from the news stories years ago during the Troubles. The city has transformed in such a short time.
My friends have rented a cottage outside of Belfast. The drive to it is through bucolic farm country that is breathtaking on such a sunny day. The roads are reed thin. There is emerald green everywhere. Already, I'm in love with this place.
The cottage could not be more perfect. It is situated on a hill with beautiful views, all the amenities, yet an old world charm. The owner even comes by and sets a peat fire each morning to take the chill off. There are stables and an area to dine al fresco. Entirely charming. I can tell this is going to be a memorable experience.
With the help of my friends, I've booked a room in a castle nearby - Killyleagh Castle in the town of Killyleagh. I'm told it's the oldest inhabited castle in Ireland, with parts of it dating to the 12th century. Right up my alley - an adventure in the making. Before dinner, my friend drives me over to pick up the key before the caretaker leaves for the day.
The castle is situated on a hill at the top of the town. It is surrounded by an old stone wall. We enter through an impressive gate into a huge courtyard that leads to the castle. The castle reminds me of a Loire Valley French chateau. We park and wander around the back of the castle to a service entrance that is open. A charming lady in rubber boots greets us, gives me a key, tells me that the room is in the gate house, and cautions me not to expect too much. She also tells me that there is no one else staying at the castle that night. Sounds good to me. I'll be the Lord of the Manor.
She was right about the room. It is indeed "modest" - a tiny room with water-stained stone walls, a damp smell, and a tiny cot-like bed. But I'm all up for the adventure of staying in the castle by myself. The room is in the wall of the gate entrance so I guess I'll be pulling sentry duty too.
That evening, my friends host a great dinner at their cottage for out-of-town guests. It is beautiful. I don't know where they find the time to do all of this. They even give us welcome bags with information about Northern Ireland and some treats.
After dinner, they drop me back at the castle. Now that the sun has set, the place has an eerie feel about it. But I'm excited. Jet lag be damned. I'll conduct a paranormal investigation like those tv shows. A place this old must have ghosts.
I settle into my room. I put my suitcase on the only chair, and arrange things the best I can in the tiny room.
I walk out into the vast courtyard. There is not one light on in the castle. The light in my room in the gate house is the only one I can see.
I begin calling out for spirit activity, and taking pictures to see if I capture anything. Nada. I walk outside the castle gate. Even the town is now silent with few lights and no one to be seen or heard, not even a barking dog. And there is a mist. Spooky. I wander some more, calling out and taking pics. If anyone is around, they probably are afraid to approach the guy talking to himself and taking pictures in the dark.
After awhile, I return to my room, disheartened that I didn't connect with any spirits. Nothing like on tv. Now, speaking of spirits, and in the interest of full disclosure, the welcome bag from my friends included a bottle of wine. Earlier I had cracked it open and had a glass to steel myself for my vigil. Now I had another glass.
The room had no tv or anything to entertain me so I thought, why don't I try and connect with spirits in the room. I begin calling out, "If there is a spirit here with me, please make yourself known. Please give me a sign. I come in peace. I do not mean you any harm.". I mean, what was I thinking? Why am I telling the spirit I don't want to harm it? I should be more worried about it harming me. Maybe jet lag, wine, and fresh Irish country air are not a good mix.
Anyhoo, I repeat this calling out a few times. Just as I'm about to give up and call it a night, I ask again, "Please give me a sign. Make yourself known.". Just then, right before my eyes, my heavy suitcase flips off the chair that it was resting on and lands upside down on the floor. I freeze. For once in my life, I do not jump and scream. I just stand there looking at the case. I am stunned. I don't know what to do. No one is going to hear my scream. There is nowhere for me to run.
I then process in my head that a spirit has done what I've asked, that it probably took a lot of effort, and that I should be polite. I don't want to tick it off. I thank the spirit for giving me a sign. I say that I am going to bed now and that I need no more signs whatsoever. Nothing at all. I wish the spirit a good night and pleasant dreams (?). I then try to invoke some protective white light thing that is a mix of what my yoga guru says and what I've seen on tv. I think I should have done that at the beginning of the vigil. Dag-nabbit.
I don't pour another glass of wine. I just swig some from the bottle.
Oh, and I sleep with the lights on and one eye open. Don't judge.
Slainte! Erin Go Bragh!
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