Walking: City centre is compact — bring comfy shoes and faith in traffic lights.
Buses: They’re pink. You can’t miss them. Contactless works, manners recommended.
Trains: Handy for coastal runs to Bangor or beyond. Sit on the sea side for views and existential thoughts.
Taxis: Black cabs and apps both fine; drivers double as historians and weather forecasters.
Bikes: Great until you discover cobbles. Then… character building.
Short version: Belfast is the capital of Northern Ireland, birthplace of the RMS Titanic, and home to people who can discuss the price of a sausage roll with the seriousness of a UN summit.
Where it is: North-east corner of the island of Ireland, hugging the Belfast Lough like a cat that pretends it’s not needy.
Population: ~350k in the city; ~700k in the metro area (give or take visitors who came for a weekend and accidentally moved in).
Famous for: Shipbuilding, linen, murals, cracking music, and saying “wee” before absolutely everything. (Fancy a wee coffee?)
Vibe check: Friendly, witty, a bit windy. The accent has settings from “BBC clear” to “needs subtitles,” both equally charming.
Claim to fame: You can literally have mountains (Cave Hill), sea (Belfast Lough), and flat whites (every street) within 20 minutes of each other — traffic and rain gods permitting.
Fun myth: Locals will tell you you’re “grand” even if your umbrella is inside-out and you’ve just stepped in a puddle that had its own climate system.