The Ulster American Folk (millennial) Park.
I went to the Ulster American Folk Park recently. For all of those who don’t know what it is, it’s a historical outdoor park and centre, that educates both the young and old on the people of Ulster’s emigration to North America in the 18th and 19th Centuries.
As directly described by the park, when you visit you can “Learn more about lives left behind, the hardships endured on the journey and the pioneering spirit of building new lives in a new land” (UA Folk Park 2023, para 2). So on the road to the park, I was expecting to see everything exactly as described. The Hardships. The Challenges. The whole shebang. I expected to feel the anger of my ancestors whisper from the park “Look! Look at what we went though! And look at you: paying to ogle at our tribulations with your Apple wallet, with a plan of buying tea and cake and possibly a random Irish souvenir afterwards… you lavish millennial twit.” So as I entered the doors of the park and beeped my way into tickethood, I was expecting to feel really enlightened and moderately bad about myself afterwards. What had I to moan about, really? After all, I wasn’t an angry ghost forced out of Ireland.
But when I arrived and passed through the doors and on to the sun-shiny pathways of “Old Ulster”, I was hit with a very different feeling altogether. I was… jealous. Why? Because my ghostly ancestors had really nice houses. Houses that, in this market, would be well beyond my current mortgage quote.
Let me flash-back to a few weeks previously. Recently, I attended a mortgage meeting. I have dreams of owning a small house with a bit of land that would house my animal rescues there. Somewhere, after I travel the world with my writing, could retire too. Nothing huge: a bungalow of one to two bedrooms would do me rightly. And trust me, I know it’s not the 90s. Back then, a digestive biscuit would have been enough of a downpayment to guarantee you a mortgage. No, I am an adult of the post-covid era, and my future dream location is Ireland’s answer to San Francisco. So I’m a realist, and I went into the meeting with my eyes open. And sadly I was not surprised by the outcome. There were a number of factors working against me:
I want to be a strong, independent woman, a lá Beyoncé, and buy my own property. In reality, I would be better off forcing my boyfriend down the aisle where he signs the marriage papers and the mortgage approval directly afterwards.
I am not the child of a farmer and have not been gifted land by a wealthy childless uncle (thanks mum - choose better next time).
Instagram lies and it is not easy to own a Scandinavian home. If you get a loan for land, you can’t get a mortgage, and you can’t get a mortgage if you don’t have land. Back to wishing I had a wealthy childless dead relative again.
I have been fond of buying tea at work from the local bakery, and, because I’ve been apple walleting it again, it now looks like I have a tea and bun addiction. Buns don’t bring home the dough in this instance. And yes, I am quite proud of this pun, but I am not proud of how many times I see “Blueberry Muffin” on my account.
So by the end of that meeting, this was what I could afford:
This above image portrays a more realistic Irish abode for 2023.
With this in mind, let’s flash-forward to the Ulster American Folk park. Let me remind you, these were the houses that our ancestors fled from. And there I was, standing in the beautiful sunlight, wondering what the BER ratings were like and if they had back boilers.
Image of a house my ancestors fled from.
House value circa 1800s: A shillin’ and your best pig.
House value 2023: €250,000 (upwards).
I looked around the place, a ridiculous grin on my face. Suddenly, I felt the same thrill that was reminiscent of being ten and queuing to go on my favourite rollercoaster. I was skipping from house-to-house, just going on a wild viewing rampage. Honestly, if you are on the same boat as me, you need to go to the Ulster American Folk Park. It’s like a house-hunting millennial’s answer to Alton Towers. Plus, there is an actual boat at the end that takes you to America, or, the New-Age-Instagram-Worthy-wood-panelled houses as highlighted below.
Instagram-worthy House
House price circa 1800s: $100 dollars and a sack of corn.
House price in 2023: Contact vendor directly and cash buyers only. Will be available on Air BnB in a month.
I know this isn’t my usual post, but I thought I’d highlight an amusing thought: young people of 2023 are emigrating from Ireland, just as those who left Ireland during the 1800s. If life goes full circle that means the banks will be accepting my digestive biscuit downpayment in no time at all. In the meantime, I’ll wait it out, reduce by blueberry muffin intake, and visit the U.A. Folk Park every now and again for a little taste of what could be.