Upon hearing that Sean and I were headed to Belfast in Northern Ireland, the Dublin car rental agent responded with, ‘You’ll be wanting a bullet-proof car then.’ Jokes aside, I had expected the border crossing between the independent Republic and British-controlled North to be somewhat momentous. Interrogations. Friskings. Or, at the very least, a much-coveted passport stamp. Instead we breezed across the invisible border without any fanfare. The only indication that we had left the Republic came in the form of mileage. Instead kilometers, distance in the North is measured in miles.

Deeper into the countryside the atmosphere shifted ever so slightly. Graffiti popped up, proclaiming ‘Sinn Fein is law,’ ‘Hang Bush,’ and ‘No more British control.’ Placards posted to telephone poles and tree trunks declared ‘Abortion is murder.’ Hmmm . . ..

Saving Belfast for later in the trip, we headed north to the village of Bushmills along the North Channel in County Antrim. Home to the Old Bushmills Distillery and within a short drive to the UNESCO World Heritage site the Giant’s Causeway and the 16th century, cliffside ruin, Dunluce Castle, Bushmills sounded like the ideal stopping place. We checked into the only open hotel — the 17th century Bushmills Inn Hotel — and then ate dinner at the only open restaurant, the Bushmills Inn Hotel.

After delicious meals featuring locally produced foods, we set out to explore our surroundings. At first glance Bushmills seemed a bit sleepy, if not deserted. Homes were dark. Stores were shuttered. Not a dog or cat was on the street. Everyone must be off on a St. Patrick’s Day-Easter week holiday, I assumed.

Then Sean pointed out that many of the buildings had burnt and were boarded up, not just shuttered. This wasn’t the the sort of one-row-house-catches-on-fire-then-another-one-joins-in scenario but instead appeared to be random fires throughout the village. Toss in a periodic empty lot strewn with rubbish and rubble and the town took on a mildly sinister air. I had anticipated such sights in war-ravaged Belfast but not in Bushmills, population 1,000.

By daylight Bushmills lost its edge. Yes, the abandoned buildings, vacant lots and ‘Scum Out’ graffiti remained. People were quite pleasant, though, and no one seemed to notice anything amiss. So, we set out on foot again to tour the oldest licensed distillery in the world, Old Bushmills, and sample some of its whiskey. And, as we all know, with enough sunshine and whiskey, things can look quite lovely.