Easter in Ireland

Easter was spent in Ireland, seeing friends, driving my mom's car, spending time with family, and exploring Wicklow with Leo. There was even an ordinate amount of sunshine and drive-in Bingo! Aside from the crappiness of Irish public transport and the intent with which car rental companies in Dublin airport would like to rip you off, it was the ideal trip. 

Can't wait to go home again next month, when I'll vote in the referendum for marriage equality. 

If the sun gets you down

Sometimes, when the weather turns good and the sun shines with it immutable, glaring endlessness, it can leave you feeling very down. Headaches and red skin, allergies and the sweaty, sticky sadness of a body and psyche neither built for, nor able to adapt to, anything over 20 degrees. I like to remind myself that I may not be any good at the sun, but I can cycle a bike with one hand while eating my lunch and talking on the phone, and sometimes you just need to be happy with the hand the universe deals you. 

I am leaving home

I'm in the airport terminal on my way back to Durham. The last pages of the Easter book have been read, the last stitched completed on the scarf, the goodbye coffee has been drunk, and I am going back, once again, away from one 'home' to another 'home', of sorts, although I'm unsure how much any of these supposed homes mean anymore. Every time I go home and leave again there is a perpetual process of confusion, readjustment, shifted vowel emphasis, shifted expectations. 

I am eternally grateful for the opportunity I have now to work and study and stay in one place and be paid for it. But I won't pretend it's not getting harder to maintain contact with friends and family, to find relevance in a homeland that feels so strangely foreign, to trade one set of vowels and familiar sounds for another, to set aside what you really want in order to help your future-self get a break. England is so close, but so alien.

There's something about leaving for the millionth time; you pack up your things, close the bedroom window, say goodbye to the dog and presume you'll never see the cat again (but she keeps on keeping on), tell your parents you love them and will see them soon, and on you go. Boarding passes, 100ml liquids, currencies and bank cards, hand luggage and sim cards. The signs and symbols of a fragmented existence. I'm hoping to grind the gears slowly to a halt, move somewhere of my own, gain a sense of permanence, have a life that is wholly my own. That's what I hope, anyway.

My brother and I (taken by Leo) at the Hill of Tara on Easter Sunday

home thoughts from abroad (remix)

I don't write here much, and it's very late now and I should probably sleeping, but some thoughts have been crossing my mind, so please allow me a moment or two to indulge myself. I was having an introductory conversation with someone tonight, and he seemed surprised that I, to his mind, had already 'written off' where I am now as an option for life, work, and all that, after my PhD is finished. The truth is, he misunderstood me. I haven't written anything off, because 'here' was never an option. What I want, most of all, is simply to go home.

It's been five years since I emigrated. London, Copenhagen, and now Durham. My life now is a mis-mash of a Danish-UK world, long train rides to airports in other parts of the country to take advantage of the cheap airfares, to spend stolen weekends and weeks with the one I love. I have three bank cards, three sim cards, a handful of random coins in my purse. I miss my home, my real home, so much. It's not that I am idealising a romantic idea of how great it must be, because I know the reality is a political and economic and social situation that is not entirely satisfactory for me, a life with which I might find much lacking. But, the countryside is still beautiful, the cities superb, the butter and milk delicious, and the people good at small-talk. 

I am so close to home; social media means I can stay in constant touch with my dearest ones, but the truth is that, after half a decade, it just doesn't feel the same anymore. I've missed so many birthdays and celebrations, and I really just want to be in a town where everyone has the same slang, where the music is played fast and mercilessly at the local pub session, where we have a common understanding of where we've come from, where we're going. It's not that where I am now is a million miles away, but sometimes the closer you are, the farther you feel. 

What really prompted this was reading Garrison Keillor's beautifully crafted tale of life in Copenhagen, as a foreigner. He is a creative hero of mine, and I find his descriptions of the peace and tranquility he finds in Copenhagen comforting and sad at the same time. I know all the feelings, these feelings are my own. But I feel sad because I know Copenhagen will never be mine, never be ours. We can live there, have a CPR number, an apartment, pay our taxes and use the bike lanes, but home is something else entirely, and I can't wait to get back to it. Can't wait for that part of life to really start, at last. 

An update

It's been a very long time since I've blogged. In fact, I never even put the rest of those pictures from Iceland up. I swear, I'll get around to that. I have been keeping very very busy, flitting back and forth to Denmark for a few days when I can, getting started on preparation for my fieldwork, enjoying the beginnings of Spring after all the snow, rain and cold (although you wouldn't think it was Spring judging by today's weather, it was threatening to snow earlier and the rain has been lashing down all day).

Some snow from about a month ago

Life is a lot of things these days. I'm still coming to terms with my new Durham world, missing my old life a lot, getting to grips with my PhD. Being back in the UK is pretty strange, I honestly thought I had finished with all that, but this is life. I've been trying to get into a steady rhythm, getting up early (ish!), jogging and stretching, playing a lot of music (getting back into trad is hard, I've forgotten all my tunes, but rewarding), learning new things and being in a positive frame of mind.

I play in the ceili band at the college now, and we are pretty busy. It's a great way to meet people, learn new music (English folk music, who would have thought it?!), and go to events where, sometimes, you get treats (see below).

Nothing says 'It's Spring' like tulips, even if they only last two days before wiltage.

When Spring first came it was incredible. That Saturday afternoon, everyone was out and about, there was a noticeable shift in energy levels in the town. 

Yogi tea is incredible, not least of all because you get posi messages like this. 

Life is good. 

New Years Eve in Copenhagen

I had probably the best New Years of my life this year. You know how New Year is usually a massive let down? Yeah, totally. This year, however, was just perfect. Dinner made with care by wonderful people, games, my first ever sips of Jagermeister,  champagne, fireworks, New Years hugs, TIRAMASU, music and living room warmth. It was just the perfect amount of everything.

 

And...this guy. The only person I'd ever want to start this year with.

Lately latey lately

I'm back in Copenhagen, drinking endless cups of coffee from my blue Bodum, sitting at my desk the whole time, type typing away. You could be forgiven for thinking that nothing has changed. But actually, everything has changed. Leo moved into the city centre and rented out the apartment after I left, and I now officially live in Durham where I'm doing a PhD, although spending a lot of time in Copenhagen is on the cards for 2015, as being a PhD student means I am pretty flexible, and it's hard to conduct a relationship from a different country. 

Looking forward to all that 2015 brings.