48 hours in Belfast begins, as many good things do, with coffee and a bit of weather-related indecision. The sky threatens rain, then doesn’t deliver. Classic Northern Irish tease. But don’t let the grey fool you – there’s colour everywhere here. In the murals, in the accents, in the fact that someone in a bar will call you “love” five minutes after meeting you. And mean it.
Start at St George’s Market, preferably hungry and under-caffeinated. The Victorian covered market has everything you didn’t know you needed before 10am: buttery soda farls, sausages sizzling on flat tops, a flat white from one of the aggressively cheerful baristas, vintage records, artisan dog biscuits, someone singing Van Morrison with conviction. Your senses will thank you, even if your wallet weeps a little.
From here, meander your way to the Cathedral Quarter. You could do it via the Albert Memorial Clock – Belfast’s own leaning tower, wonky and proud. The Cathedral Quarter is where cobbled laneways collide with hipster cocktail menus. Have a wander through Commercial Court, admire the splashes of street art, and resist the urge to take a thousand photos of the umbrella-covered entries. Pop into the MAC (Metropolitan Arts Centre) if you’re in the mood for contemporary art, or just for an espresso and an existential crisis.
Feeling cultured (or confused), stroll over to the nearby Belfast Cathedral. The mosaics and the muted grandeur inside provide a nice contrast to the outside world, which by now might be drizzling. Or shining. Or doing both. Carry an umbrella but don’t commit to using it. That’s the Belfast way.
Lunch is calling, and so is the Crown Liquor Saloon. Yes, it’s touristy. Yes, it’s owned by the National Trust. But yes, it’s worth it. The carved wood, gas lamps, snugs – all original Victorian drama, and somehow still cosy. Order a steak and Guinness pie, find a snug, and eavesdrop. The gossip in Belfast is often better than the beer.
After lunch, hop across the road to the Grand Opera House. You’re not going in (unless you’ve snagged tickets), but you’ll want to admire the elaborate facade, recently restored to its former flamboyant glory. Then, if your legs are feeling cooperative, make your way south to Queen’s University. The Lanyon Building looks like Hogwarts got a facelift. It’s all gothic windows and scholarly drama. The Botanic Gardens next door provide the perfect setting for a digesting stroll. Check out the Palm House – it’s like a steamy Victorian greenhouse fantasy. Somewhere between plant nursery and scene from a Jane Austen fever dream.
From here, the Ulster Museum is mere steps away. It’s free, which is always a win, and full of treasures you didn’t expect: Egyptian mummies, Dippy the Dinosaur, and a thorough unpacking of The Troubles that doesn’t flinch. You’ll leave with a head full of complicated thoughts and a camera roll full of marble staircases.
Evening time in Belfast means heading back to the Cathedral Quarter for dinner. Try The Muddlers Club, tucked behind a graffitied laneway. No signs, just excellent food. Or go for something more raucous at Hadskis – industrial chic, buzzing atmosphere, and staff who can recommend a whiskey without blinking. For post-dinner drinks, venture to Duke of York. It’s like walking into a Belfast-themed Christmas card: fairy lights, whiskey, mirrors, and banter. Maybe even live music if you time it right. Don’t be surprised if you end up making friends with a retired teacher from Bangor who insists on buying you a pint. Just go with it.
Day two starts a little slower, depending on how many pints you respectfully accepted the night before. Begin with a restorative breakfast at General Merchants – avocado toast, baked eggs, and coffee that feels like therapy. Then it’s time to face Belfast’s most famous story: the Titanic. The Titanic Belfast building itself is a ship-sized piece of modern architecture, all jagged aluminium and symbolism. It looks like an iceberg if you squint, which feels both clever and slightly cheeky.
Inside, the exhibition walks you through the ship’s creation, launch, sinking, and subsequent legend. There’s a ride. There are holograms. There are tissues. Prepare to feel weirdly emotional about rivets. The whole thing is brilliantly done and appropriately moody.
Next door sits the SS Nomadic – Titanic’s mini-me tender ship. You can hop aboard and pretend you’re a fancy passenger being shuttled to your doom. Or just enjoy the views of the slipways, where the Titanic actually began its brief, unfortunate career.
If you’re peckish, walk a few steps to Hickson’s Point, which does a solid seafood chowder and soda bread combo. You’ll want to linger, especially if there’s live music spilling out of the pub corner.
Time to switch gears. Jump in a cab or take a Black Taxi Tour. The drivers are storytellers, philosophers, comedians, and often minor celebrities. They’ll take you through the Falls Road and Shankill Road, past murals that speak louder than any textbook. You’ll see the Peace Walls, still physically dividing neighbourhoods, still covered in signatures and slogans. It’s surreal, thought-provoking, and sometimes awkward. That’s the point.
When you return to the city centre, you might feel like something a little lighter. Victoria Square Shopping Centre has a dome with panoramic views of the city – and it’s free to climb. Just smile politely at the shops on your way up and pretend you weren’t tempted by a quick Zara sweep.
The sun may or may not be out, but you’re heading up to Cave Hill anyway. Catch a taxi to Belfast Castle, nestled at the base of the hill. The castle is mostly used for weddings and Instagram these days, but the real gem is the walking trail. Follow the loop up to Napoleon’s Nose – the rock formation that allegedly inspired Jonathan Swift’s Gulliver. Whether true or not, the views from the top are frankly ridiculous. You can see the city laid out below, the Lough stretching out like a silver carpet, and maybe even Scotland if your eyes are up for the task.
By now your legs might hate you, but your camera will love you. Stumble down, emotionally enriched and physically exhausted, and reward yourself with dinner in the Lisburn Road area. Deanes at Queens is the posh choice. Convito is cosier, with pasta that would make an Italian nonna raise an eyebrow in approval.
If you’ve got energy for a final nightcap, try The Sunflower. It’s an unpretentious bar with a security cage still around the door from the Troubles era. Inside, it’s all craft beer, pizza, live folk music and warm defiance. You’ll meet people who love this city fiercely and want you to love it too.
And just like that, your 48 hours in Belfast are up. The city, predictably, hasn’t given up all its secrets. It never does. But you’ve danced between its contradictions: history and humour, grit and generosity, ghosts and good times. You’ll leave with a belly full of stew, a head full of stories, and a sneaky plan to come back before anyone notices you’ve gone.