Having followed the Troubles in Northern Ireland since childhood, I had more than a few notions about both the country and capital. Belfast would be grim. It would be gritty. Bomb-scarred buildings would line the streets. Police would pound the pavement, poised to quell sectarian violence. Everywhere I turned, I would see evidence of not just decades but centuries of fighting. That’s the problem with preconceived ideas. So often they are wrong. Thanks to generous revitalization funding from the EU and Great Britain, Belfast resembled an active, modern city. Sleek, pricey hotels like the Malmaison dotted the cityscape. Huge, glittering shopping complexes, such as the newly opened Victoria Square, drew in hordes of spendthrifts. Briefcase-wielding business people, not gun-toting police officers, dominated the sidewalks. Cranes and construction equipment filled the skyline. In spite of this hustle and bustle, Belfast was a quiet tourist destination. During our time there most of the sites — the Ulster Museum, the St. George’s farmers’ market, which originated in the 17th century, and the Belfast Cathedral — were closed. In the case of the 19th century St. Malachy’s Church, reputedly the best example of the Victorian architecture for …