Personal

Lost in Translation

Tonight I'm lost in translation. I'm away overnight in a city I've never visited before, a place of unusual banknotes and soft voices. It's my first time in Ulster, and for an evening's entertainment I'm staying in the hotel.

Why is it that I'm at my most observant when I travel?

On a walk round Belfast this evening I was wide-eyed, but on reflection most of what I noticed exists back home too. A copper-domed building in the town centre; girls rebelliously smoking in their school uniform; the hills looking down on the city from three sides; an office-worker playing Solitaire. The huge cranes at Harland and Wolff captivated me, but are they so far apart from the container cranes at Felixstowe? I was surprised to see a phone box that takes Euros as well as Sterling, but don't they have those in London?

In fact, over the couple of hours I've been here I can only name a few differences. I've already mentioned the accents and the banknotes. I was also amused to see all three of Juliet Turner's albums on proud display in HMV. A copy of Hot Press will be my sole souvenir.

I fly home tomorrow. It seems wrong. I should see the city first.

I should be going out tonight. I should find some life, maybe get a drink in a local bar. But I've never been one to drink alone so instead I'll stay in my room. And that (rather than the fact that I'm not a washed-up film-star) is the reason I'm unlikely to bump into my Scarlett Johansson.