Velvet and Republicans...

When I awoke this morning, Groomsport had been swallowed by a bank of dense fog.  Running along the Donaghadee road toward the roundabout, the fields to my right and left disappeared into billowing white.  And it wasn't long before, coming over the crest of a hill, the road in front of me did as well.  Now don't get me wrong, I've seen fog like this before--but there was something that gave me pause at that moment.  In the half-light of early morning, this road that I'd traversed many times over the past week, drifting off into an impenetrable mystery--there was something ominous about it, almost dangerous.  Who could tell what the ethereal mists hid?  Somehow the sight invited one to believe that perhaps, behind that curtain, the world really had changed, the road had shifted or fallen away altogether and nothing would be the same.

Of course, I kept running and the veil of silver gossamer kept drawing just beyond my reach, revealing more and more of a familiar world, unchanged, just as it had been the night before.

Jogging to the beach, the mist spit in my face leaving me dripping.  At the water's edge the fog in a curtain fell and the rest of the Irish Sea might have dropped off into eternity for all I knew.  Standing there it was just me and the gulls, crows and odd tern.  Waves brushed the shore with gentle fingers and the birds called.  It brought to mind the CBS Sunday morning nature segments that I've been seeing all of my life.  The sounds especially.  But the sights too.  Volcanic rock pushing out of the sand like the ridged backs of dragons.  Moss, seaweed and a shelly beach.  Not yet awake, the village fading away into oblivious white.

Of course, none of this has to do with velvet or Republicans.  Rewind to yesterday.  It's my first day shadowing the pastor and one of our first tasks is to find robes from their stash that fit.  Low and behold a particularly nice garment of pleated and flowing black is just my size, but as I began to button it I couldn't help but suck my teeth.  See, running up the front around the neck and back down the front on the other side of the opening, there was a wide stripe of velvet.  Mayday.  I can't touch velvet without my teeth hurting...in fact, it hurts me just to write this.  No joke.  I tried to hold it in, but no luck.  And I tried to say it was fine, but they didn't believe me (of course, I couldn't speak well by this point, so I guess it was obvious).  And, just like my family who re-discovered this quirk of mine, the secretary and pastor thought it was hilarious--something that will be held over my head in a loving sort of way, no doubt.  In any event, unlike my family, they actually thought they'd heard of it before, so they googled "phobia of velvet".  Turns out there's a name for people like me: haptodysphoria.  It's the extreme dislike of touching certain soft things...like velvet, raw cotton and peach fuzz (of those, peach fuzz is the only one I don't dislike).  We took the robe to one of our members who is an excellent taylor.  No more velvet for me!  Yes.  You can laugh now.

Which only leaves me with Republicans.  This is another learning point for me.  Because in conversation the term came up (and then came up again with the pastor) and immediately I went to American politics and just as immediately realized that that wasn't going to be right in this situation.  So I asked.  Quite like the name suggests, Republicans (as I understand it) are those who still wish N. Ireland to be a part of the Republic of Ireland as opposed to unionists (with a little 'u'), who prefer to stay with the United Kingdom.  I'm told that, yes, there is somewhat firm correlation between the political designations and religion, but that it would not be wise to assume that all Protestants are unionists and all Catholics are Republicans, as they are not.  It is an interesting cultural-political situation and one that I hope to be able to learn more about while I'm here.  It's also a good reminder of the way that the meaning of words and labels change with different cultural contexts.  I take it for granted and I shouldn't.

New pics: the Antrim Coast

Peace!