Belfast – in pavement cafés

Van Gogh’s ‘Cafe Terrace at Night’

You’re seated comfortably. The sun, breeze, or even a soft rain is on your skin. Your legs, at rest, ache pleasantly. Your thoughts switch leisurely between inner reverie and absorption in the rich detail of the busy street or square around you. You lick the croissant crumbs from your fingers, breathe deep, and think, ‘yes, all is well. All is well.’

I’m a big fan of pavement cafés. Unless it’s so cold that I’ll likely feel ill the rest of the day, I’ll choose outside. If I’m with people who don’t want to sit outside, I’ll grump until I get them outside. I’ve had some of those blissful, all-is-well moments in different places and I’m on an ongoing mission to recreate them.

But is it possible in dreary old Belfast? For the last eight years that I’ve lived here, I’ve been trying to find out. And I’ve learned a few things about the city on the way.

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I’ll start with the city centre. About a central as you can get is Apartment on the west side of the City Hall. I’ve done the sneaky a few times and availed of their £1.50 takeaway coffee and muffin deal and then sat at their tables outside (I know). The City Hall provides a decent vista, but you have to contend with bus noise, bus fumes, and a pavement stuffed with stressed-looking people heading for buses or work. Just up Fountain Street is one of many Café Neros. The twist here is that the seats are sheltered by a roof which at least means rain won’t shift you, but the busker who has a residency outside Boots probably will.

Cafe Nero on Fountain Street

A side street can be a worthwhile place to sit out, giving you an alternative perspective on things. But in general you want a bit of ‘vibe’ – that pleasant, vibrant atmosphere that you get in urban focal points that says you are in a place where other people are and are happy to be. One of the few candidates for this in Belfast would be Cornmarket, a meeting point of several pedestrianised streets. Unfortunately, Starbucks is the only option. I had an interesting listen to an African evangelist there one afternoon until a smoker drove me away.

Another pretender to hub-ness is St. Anne’s Square in the Cathedral Quarter, a large courtyard rimmed with restaurants in attractive buildings. It clearly has the ambition to foster the outdoor dining vibe but the time I looked, I couldn’t see any cafés other than the MAC’s, so I moved on to Established beside the Cathedral. As the uber-hip newcomer (Established, not the Cathedral), it’s worth a mention here, but unfortunately it’s unable to extend its uber-hipness beyond its walls due to the narrow footpath. Same goes for the new and similarly slick Kaffe O, a welcome slice of Scandinavia on the Ormeau Road. It just has room for a narrow bench along the front window.

I’ve also had coffee outside several other city centre cafés including Clements on Rosemary Street, The Streat at Wellington Place, The Proper Pasty Company at the end of Queen’s Arcade, The Bakery on Howard Street, the old Delaney’s (now a Nero) on Lombard Street, Oscar’s Champagne Café on Chichester Street, the Coffee Kiosk opposite Primark, and Starbucks in Victoria Square. But these, like virtually all cafés in Belfast, suffer from a problem which is not of their own making.

No vibe here

The facts that (a), the pavements are usually not wide enough for more than a few seats and (b), the cafés are scattered here and there, mean that they all give off a feeling that they are either doing something wildly exotic, or half-hearted, by putting seats outside. It’s as if you put your sofa on the footpath in front of your house and sat there happily painting your toenails. Passers-by don’t know what to do with you.

A few fancier city centre places would be the Radisson Hotel in the Gasworks and the Ivory restaurant/bar in Victoria Square. The Radisson has seats beside a water feature and it all got a little continental the time I was there with my parents. They were paying. I haven’t been back since. The Ivory has roof-top seating on the corner above House of Fraser. Nice view, but you’re extracted from the world, rather than immersed in it.

Common Grounds

Moving south, the intellectual and artistic heart of the city around Queen’s should be a promising area for al fresco caffeine-ating. Common Grounds on University Avenue certainly is. The outstretched arms of a tree form a welcoming canopy over the tables in what is a mostly unimpressive street. Down Botanic Avenue, French Village and Clements have given me some enjoyable roof-less coffee times, as well as Sinnamon in Stranmillis, though you again have that unsettling feeling of exposure.

The Ormeau and Lisburn Roads have several cafés with outdoor seating but I’ve never had much reason to be in these areas. I doubt they promise bliss though – they are such busy roads. Traffic noise and fumes are other standard features of outdoor coffee in Belfast. They’re certainly problems in the part of the city I live in, the east.

Here, the main cluster of cafés is on the Belmont Road: Bennetts, Thirty-Six, Bank, Truffles, Café Smart, Morellis, and the most recent addition, Olivers. The outdoor seats again have that tokenistic, unanchored feel. You can sit outside, as I defiantly do, but you have little more than the traffic, scores of fluttering Union Jacks, and the odd delivery man to watch.

Belmont Road

The Skainos café, part of the Skainos complex on the Lower Newtownards road, is great value, relaxed, and benefits from having plenty of space for seats out in ‘Skainos Square’, the closest thing East Belfast has to a piazza. I’m there a lot, although my twenty-month old is better contained inside the café than outside. (My tiny companion is another reason all that traffic so close to so many cafés is annoying).

I’ll own up to going to McDonald’s at Connswater reasonably often for coffee or ice cream. It’s fine and has loyalty card stickers that amuse me. The outdoor seating area is a little raised from the road but is right by a car park and, as in much of East Belfast, the junction on the other two sides has torrents of cars and few pedestrians. I’ve also been through a Del Piero’s phase – it’s an indoor pavement café in the middle of Connswater Shopping Centre. Noise levels are compensated for by the fist-sized fifteens. Just up the Newtownards Road is The Lindores Coffee House. It’s in a house-shaped building, and if you follow through its cosy interior you come to a back yard that has been turned into a pleasant seating area that catches the sun.

The Dock Cafe

Over in Titanic Quarter, the excellent Dock Café, where you pay whatever you like, has a few picnic-y seats that you can sit out on. I never have, but I’ve enjoyed the view from inside, definitely the best view of any café in the city, with the water, the city and the hills all prettily arranged. That part of Titanic Quarter, called ‘the arc’, has the raw materials for a real, European-style water-front clump of bars/restaurants/cafés. Sadly, it appears to be frozen in its state of semi-emptiness – for now at least.

St. George’s Market

Finally, it would be remiss not to mention the best place to drink coffee in Belfast – in fact, the best place in Belfast: St. George’s Market. Oodles of ‘vibe’ – and we’ll forgive it for having a roof.

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You can tell me in the comment box if I’ve missed out anywhere nice. But outdoor eating and drinking is clearly under-developed in Belfast, and it’s interesting to think through why this might be.

The weather is an obvious problem, though not an excuse if you ask me: blankets, heaters and awnings can overcome most conditions. Other of the city’s natural features, like all that river frontage and the visibility of the hills from most parts of the city, plus much attractive architecture, are in favour of the outdoor urban experience – if there are the seats to sit on.

The smoking ban since 2007 has clearly driven the provision of what seats there are; ironically, the cleanest air is now often inside. The street design and our strong car dependence don’t lend themselves to pavement cafés, though again, other cities have overcome this through deliberate urban planning.

Perhaps the predilections of the historically dominant cultural tradition in Belfast are to blame too. There’s something rather un-Ulster Protestant about pavement cafés. Sit about watching the world go by? There are ships to build and the ungodly to convert!

But I assume the main explanation for the lack of pavement cafés is the Troubles, with decades of bombs and bomb threats deterring investment and destroying (as intended) any potential for a relaxed urban culture.

And why do I keep looking? It’s not just for somewhere pretty to relax. The lure is the vantage point: in the world but not of it. Indoors cafés/pubs/restaurants could be anywhere. In the pavement café, you’re surrounded by unique place and presence, but you’re suspended from them too. And you see things differently. While it’s true that there’s an air of aloofness and exclusivity to the image of pavement cafés, in fact, simply sitting still in a street, I’ve found, draws your attention to people and places that are usually hidden or ignored in the collective dash around town. There, and not there, you take stock. Then you move on.

In May 2014, legislation was passed in the Assembly aimed at encouraging on-street café culture, giving Councils new regulatory powers. The benefits of street cafés etc. to tourism, city-centre trade and social life, plus Belfast’s shortcomings in this area, are now widely recognised; for more, read this Assembly Briefing on the issue. The improvement of street surfaces, lighting and furniture through the Belfast Streets Ahead regeneration project is doing a lot to create a more agreeable environment for street sitters.

The very idea of safe, shared, inclusive, recreational urban space is a new one to Northern Ireland. We’ve a lot of catching up to do.

In the meantime, I’ll be at a table somewhere, shivering, sticking out into the way of walkers, breathing fumes and forcing my loved ones to sit with me, clutching a half-cold coffee.

Why do we get so excited about Israel and Palestine?

Olive trees outside Bethlehem. I took this on a non-digital camera in June 2005.

A few months back, I was in a conversation about olive oil.

I happened to remark that I liked to buy oil produced in Palestine as it helps support farmers struggling under the Israeli occupation. Many olive trees have been uprooted or cut off from farmers to make way for Israeli settlers and/or the Wall.

It was bad move. Unbeknownst to me, the individual I was chatting to was much more worried about the security of the state of Israel. He said my attitudes showed that I was anti-Semitic, even if I didn’t realise it.

I was shocked. I like to think I’m a nice guy. Suddenly, I was Hitler.

This person then asked why people in the West get so angry with Israel but ignore all sorts of other conflicts around the globe. His explanation was simple: anti-Semitism.

Once I’d restored my self-image of reasonableness and congeniality, I realised that his broad point was worth considering. Why do we all get so excited about Israel-Palestine? As our social media feeds are showing right now, Israel-Palestine has a unique power to ignite passions around the world, moreso than other conflicts.

As ever, the media is most of the reason: Israel-Palestine is on our news frequently. Tibet, Sudan, Congo etc., not so much. So we (think we) know about Israel-Palestine and form opinions on it.

Our media is particularly interested in Israel-Palestine, firstly, because the West has long history of involvement in the region; secondly, because, the three global monotheistic faiths all have strong interest in what goes on there; and thirdly, the region is not too far away and most people speak English there, so it’s relatively easy to cover.

But perhaps the main reason the media is interested in Israel–Palestine is because Israel gets so much support from the West. I’m not just talking about American assistance. I’m talking about strong economic, cultural, military, diplomatic and political ties that the UK and EU have with Israel, a state that purports to share our democratic values.

And this explains why Israel is so often criticised in the West – what annoyed my accuser above. It’s not because we are all anti-Semitic. It is because our countries’ links to Israel mean that we are morally implicated in what it does. We should have higher expectations of Israel than Palestinian groups with which we have little official connection.

Right now, Israel is using its high-tech military machine to devastating – but ultimately futile – effect. Deploying overwhelming and disproportionate force in order to deter a threat is not a mad mistake on the part of Israel. It’s a long standing Israeli politico-military doctrine. It’s the ‘iron wall’ policy, explained in the book of the same name by the Oxford historian, Avi Shlaim. That kid of logic – that prefers perpetual war for a shaky peace, over a political solution – is out of step with the values that many individuals and governments around the world hold. It deserves criticism.

Of course the West should condemn Palestinian militancy as well. But given the massive, massive disparity in power, and in suffering inflicted, between the two sides, a response that throws up its hands and concludes lazily that there is wrong on both sides is foolish. If both sides are equally wrong, than neither is. That view supports the status quo, and the status quo harms everyone – but mostly the millions of ordinary people living under occupation in the Palestinian territories.

So should we be ‘pro-Israeli’ or ‘pro-Palestinian’? It’s a stupid question and it supports what the extremists like to think: that there are two incompatible monoliths locked in eternal conflict. One of the most depressing results of the current (and all) violence is that it sidelines those who work for peace. Extremism always obscures the differences that exist within groups.

Palestinians protest against the occupation non-violently day in and day out. Many Israeli organisations do likewise, criticising the actions of the Israeli government and military. But I have never seen a single news report on these groups. It’s their perspectives that I’ve always been drawn to, not those of the people who take up weapons, or of our media.

Those perspectives free us from the zero-sum clash between ‘pro-Palestinian’ and ‘pro-Israeli’ sympathies that I stumbled into in my chat about olive oil. If peace is possible – and it always is – it is from those groups that are seeking to transcend the walls, real and metaphorical, that change will come.