There isn’t a lot of difference in Armagh. Actually, I believe our project brings a signifiant amount of multiculturalism to the town this year. So, when someone brown pops up I take notice. As we walked into the bus station in Armagh, I noticed someone else brown. He was about medium height and about my complexion, telling his ethnicity was a bit of a puzzle, he could be asian could be indian; he had stretched ears and dyed blonde hair. I was excited to see him, he reminded me of home.

He loaded onto the bus with us, which soon filled with tons of people headed to stops up and down the road to Belfast. I quickly fell asleep but I’m sure during the bus trip he was texting his friends in Belfast and making plans for the weekend. He looked like he could use a break from the week we were all leaving behind. He didn’t carry a lot of items with him, just the bare minimum so he had friends that were going to take care of him when he got there.

I woke up about fifteen minutes before we pulled up to the station in Belfast. I was freezing and a little groggy from the nap and dreams of Ireland (it’s been a thing lately). I didn’t think about the guy until we got off the bus and were standing around in the station trying to find maps. I saw him darting out the station and into Belfast he knew where he was going and had a certain level of focus. I figured this was the end of our time together.

Belfast came and went — in the middle we visited Laverty’s. I am usually late due to indecision or a change of mind. As myself and a cohort walked through Belfast to Laverne’s we saw a few things that endeared us to the city. After the vending machine filled with condoms, lube and pregnancy tests but before the public pissing station I saw him again. Medium height, thin build dressed in all black blonde hair spiked low face animated in a wiry smile as the large goth woman strolled beside him. He was happy, picking a part something that’d just happened. Excited to be in Belfast, with friends in a city where he wasn’t the only drop of difference. “There he is again!” I whispered to my cohort. “Who?” she spoke back, I paused — had I told anyone else about him when I got on the bus? “the guy — the brown guy with the blonde hair?” we kept walking, I don’t remember her response. I was too busy thinking about the odds, thinking about who he was and how he’d come to live in a place like Armagh and travel to Belfast.

Perhaps he was working — or a traveler. Perhaps he is from Belfast but works somewhere in Armagh. He might be doing research and comes home to his friends on the weekend. Perhaps the living is more reasonably priced and the consequences of being brown aren’t as high in Armagh as they are in Belfast.  He comes home on the weekend to his family and friends and brings the money he’s earned to the west side of Belfast. His family is thankful his younger brothers at home with their parents and he’s one of the older siblings that lives out but comes back to support within.  I stop thinking about him when we get to the public pissing stations. I mean, coming upon three men pissing in public will do that.

Belfast went. We strolled into the Bus station and onto the 8:07 bus with hardly a wait to speak of. We weren’t the only ones on the bus, but it sure felt like it. I took a seat in the back and chatted with my cohorts across the isle and in front of me. We talked about the protestant areas we drove through. Noticed the difference in cities like Dublin and Belfast and expressed our empathy to each side respectively. I thought about the other, where I and two of my cohorts would fall. We were not without notice anywhere – which is why I thought about him again. It didn’t go far, we passed a protestant memorial – poppies engraved in the cement.

Armagh arrived and they dropped us on the sidewalk. I was totally unpleased to have come off the bus this way. Totally unpleased to have to lug these bags up the hills of the town. Why did I pack so much? Why couldn’t I have a place to stay in Armagh like he did. Wait a minute — is that blonde hair getting off the bus? I mean not the natural blonde you’ll see in Armagh but the blonde of someone covering black or brown. Did he come back too? He’s got work tomorrow like the rest of us do — going back to his home or cozy room somewhere in the town. Hold on — this could be anyone, don’t get some excited. Why are you excited? You don’t even know him — look without being a creep. Someone called my name, I had to get my bags. Lately, my transitions don’t leave room for much thought.

Ugh. The part I hated, lugging the crap I carried to Belfast back to the hostel. I nearly bumped into him, he was talking to a bloated Irish man. They smiled softly as they talked, signs of friendship between them. He’d notice me the way you notice grass in a meadow. Completely unnoticed as if travelers were like us were common place in Armagh. Perhaps to him they were — he’s so used to moving between the two cities he doesn’t notice the new difference. He sees this as his getaway and he only exists here insulated by the kindness of difference; he is a long way from the teenagers of West Belfast who chase his father and younger brothers with lead piping and rocks. He doesn’t have to think about the beating they gave him for being brown. He likes being blonde, and gauged and listening to punk and visiting the Belfast clubs on the weekend but during the week he is safe and supporting.

It was a little weird to see her. She was kind of round but a soft brown and a ton of hair; I think it was twisted or dreaded or something. I didn’t want to stare, I didn’t really get a good look at her until I saw her in Belfast but it was just a glimpse. I was talking with Rosie about the way I’d grabbed the number of the guy I’d been eyeing all night. She’d agreed it was a pretty flawless play. We were moving on to meet the Tom and Colm when I noticed her, she stood out like I did – – her and her friend. They were real tourists. they got quiet when we passed them, so I’m sure she noticed me. I didn’t see her again, or rather the hair until we got back to Armagh she was packed like a mule. Had she really packed all that for one weekend. Dan and I were talking about the work load for the next week. Really interesting to see her here in Armagh.