And that,” says the tour guide, gesturing soberly towards a terrace in the notorious Bogside estate, “was where the newsagent once stood.” “Did it get blown up?” I ask, tentatively. “Oh sure no! That block was pulled down a few months ago because it was so tatty.”
It’s a very Derry moment, reminding me that there’s much more to this city than its Troubled past. In fact there’s a real buzz about the place currently, as it reinvents itself at dizzying pace – and the thing it’s most famous for right now isn’t bombs or bullets or Bloody Sunday, but four teenage girls, their “wee English fella” friend and the teachers at their Catholic school. Oh, and lines like “If anyone is feeling anxious, worried or maybe you just want a chat, please, please do not come crying to me.”
If the massive global success of Channel 4’s Derry Girls has been a surprise – two million people watched the last series in the UK, many millions more around the world on Netflix – even less predictable has been the surge in holiday-makers wanting to visit the city as a result of the show, with hotels and tour companies welcoming thousands of new visitors.
“Netflix has given us a global platform,” says Odhran Dunne, chief executive of Visit Derry. “It has given us a new market and a new audience, and the new series will open another opportunity for sites and locations.” There are multiple guided tours taking in key locations from the first two series (expect them to be updated with spots from the current, final series soon). At the top end, the Everglades Hotel’s overnight package includes a Derry Girlsthemed afternoon tea (with “cream horn” and “cheese & onion crisp sarnie” (hastingshotels. com/everglades-hotel/Derry-Girls.html).
It’s easy enough to walk round this compact city centre yourself – and it’s hard to miss sights like the giant mural dedicated to the programme on the side of Badger’s Bar on Orchard Row. Other popular spots for fans include Long Tower Church (where Toto the dog contributed miraculous “tears” to a statue of the Virgin Mary), the Guildhall (site of President Clinton’s epoch-marking 1995 speech, which provides the finale to season two), and the section of Derry’s 17th-century city walls where James makes his climactic announcement in the same episode.
However, if you want to get a feel for the history and current complexities round here, then a guided walking tour is the best option. In a town where even the name can be confusing (Derry, Londonderry and DerryLondonderry are all in official use, but you can always stick safely to “the Maiden City”), having someone to decode, say, the Bogside’s peace murals really helps you to appreciate their subtleties and significance. My guide is Charlene (derrycitytours.com), and she turns the bare facts into human stories, too: when her own parents – one Protestant, one Catholic – married 40-odd years ago, none of their parents would attend.
She has her own distinctly Derry Girls stories, as well: Charlene was a pupil at the actual school from the series, and her future husband was an 11-year-old English boy transposed to Derry, just like James. Asked at his new school who he was supporting in an upcoming football match between Northern Ireland and the Republic, she says, “He thought ‘I’m in Northern Ireland, so I’d better say that.’ But it was a Catholic school, so that didn’t get him very far…” Derry makes a good base for exploring the surrounding countryside, too, or a great stop on a week’s road trip.
Follow the A2 out of town (don’t be deceived by the name; it’s a single-lane country road for much of the route) and you’re only an hour from the Giant’s Causeway and the magnificent Causeway Coastal Route, arguably one of the handsomest drives in Europe. You’ll want to be back in Derry come evening, mind. The cynic in me had always wondered if Ireland’s much-vaunted craic had gone the way of the leprechauns (or, worse, was only ever a marketing gimmick) – but stumbling from pub to pub down Waterloo Street, I learnt different. My favourite, Peadar O’Donnell’s, has traditional music every night, and I watched a three-manband whip the crowd into a stadium-rock frenzy with just an acoustic guitar, a voice and a tin whistle.
Even when, a couple of doors up the road at Lizzie O’Farrell’s, the singer led customers in a chorus of Go On Home British Soldiers, the atmosphere was more raucous family singalong, like the drunken end of a big wedding, than sectarian rally. That’s Derry (and Derry Girls) all over: wearing the city’s dark past lightly, and making a celebration of its bright future. Indeed, only one socio-political issue clouded my trip. Remember the show’s famous blackboard, depicting the kids’ perceptions of the differences between Catholics and Protestants? (The former “love statues”, the latter “keep toasters in cupboards”). Well it’s now on show at the Ulster Museum in Belfast, rather than Derry.
And that,” says the tour guide, gesturing soberly towards a terrace in the notorious Bogside estate, “was where the newsagent once stood.” “Did it get blown up?” I ask, tentatively. “Oh sure no! That block was pulled down a few months ago because it was so tatty.”
It’s a very Derry moment, reminding me that there’s much more to this city than its Troubled past. In fact there’s a real buzz about the place currently, as it reinvents itself at dizzying pace – and the thing it’s most famous for right now isn’t bombs or bullets or Bloody Sunday, but four teenage girls, their “wee English fella” friend and the teachers at their Catholic school. Oh, and lines like “If anyone is feeling anxious, worried or maybe you just want a chat, please, please do not come crying to me.”
If the massive global success of Channel 4’s Derry Girls has been a surprise – two million people watched the last series in the UK, many millions more around the world on Netflix – even less predictable has been the surge in holiday-makers wanting to visit the city as a result of the show, with hotels and tour companies welcoming thousands of new visitors.
“Netflix has given us a global platform,” says Odhran Dunne, chief executive of Visit Derry. “It has given us a new market and a new audience, and the new series will open another opportunity for sites and locations.” There are multiple guided tours taking in key locations from the first two series (expect them to be updated with spots from the current, final series soon). At the top end, the Everglades Hotel’s overnight package includes a Derry Girlsthemed afternoon tea (with “cream horn” and “cheese & onion crisp sarnie” (hastingshotels. com/everglades-hotel/Derry-Girls.html).
It’s easy enough to walk round this compact city centre yourself – and it’s hard to miss sights like the giant mural dedicated to the programme on the side of Badger’s Bar on Orchard Row. Other popular spots for fans include Long Tower Church (where Toto the dog contributed miraculous “tears” to a statue of the Virgin Mary), the Guildhall (site of President Clinton’s epoch-marking 1995 speech, which provides the finale to season two), and the section of Derry’s 17th-century city walls where James makes his climactic announcement in the same episode.
However, if you want to get a feel for the history and current complexities round here, then a guided walking tour is the best option. In a town where even the name can be confusing (Derry, Londonderry and DerryLondonderry are all in official use, but you can always stick safely to “the Maiden City”), having someone to decode, say, the Bogside’s peace murals really helps you to appreciate their subtleties and significance. My guide is Charlene (derrycitytours.com), and she turns the bare facts into human stories, too: when her own parents – one Protestant, one Catholic – married 40-odd years ago, none of their parents would attend.
She has her own distinctly Derry Girls stories, as well: Charlene was a pupil at the actual school from the series, and her future husband was an 11-year-old English boy transposed to Derry, just like James. Asked at his new school who he was supporting in an upcoming football match between Northern Ireland and the Republic, she says, “He thought ‘I’m in Northern Ireland, so I’d better say that.’ But it was a Catholic school, so that didn’t get him very far…” Derry makes a good base for exploring the surrounding countryside, too, or a great stop on a week’s road trip.
Follow the A2 out of town (don’t be deceived by the name; it’s a single-lane country road for much of the route) and you’re only an hour from the Giant’s Causeway and the magnificent Causeway Coastal Route, arguably one of the handsomest drives in Europe. You’ll want to be back in Derry come evening, mind. The cynic in me had always wondered if Ireland’s much-vaunted craic had gone the way of the leprechauns (or, worse, was only ever a marketing gimmick) – but stumbling from pub to pub down Waterloo Street, I learnt different. My favourite, Peadar O’Donnell’s, has traditional music every night, and I watched a three-manband whip the crowd into a stadium-rock frenzy with just an acoustic guitar, a voice and a tin whistle.
Even when, a couple of doors up the road at Lizzie O’Farrell’s, the singer led customers in a chorus of Go On Home British Soldiers, the atmosphere was more raucous family singalong, like the drunken end of a big wedding, than sectarian rally. That’s Derry (and Derry Girls) all over: wearing the city’s dark past lightly, and making a celebration of its bright future. Indeed, only one socio-political issue clouded my trip. Remember the show’s famous blackboard, depicting the kids’ perceptions of the differences between Catholics and Protestants? (The former “love statues”, the latter “keep toasters in cupboards”). Well it’s now on show at the Ulster Museum in Belfast, rather than Derry.
ED GRENBY