it's good to be home from time to time

I had 5 whole days in Ireland, just the right amount of time, although as soon as I start to settle in to Ireland's charming and often frank ways it's time to move on again, and I'm left feeling a bit deflated and sad. I love my home so much, and look forward with immense excitement to returning permanently (maybe?!) in about 3 years time. In the meantime, these little visits will have to suffice. 

My trip was a healthy mix of family time, making up elaborate games about Star Wars and Ninja Squirrels (not my idea) with my nephew, sleep overs with friends, cake eating, and lots and lots of chatting. It was perfect. And the delicious weather only made things sweeter. I just wish I could have frozen time and kept it going for ever.

A little nighttime football. I learned to do a header!!

All my childhood/teen diaries

Henrietta Street, a famous row of old tenements, mention in Joyce's Dubliner's (which I just finished reading!)

A long walk from town to Stonybatter for cake, and a stroll around the surrounding areas led to some classic Dublin sights, like these rows of ex-council houses. The north side of the city will forever be my favourite.

 

I love reliving old experiences when I'm home; a trip on the DART, meeting my childhood and school friends, going to my favourite spots like Bewleys, but I also love discovering new things, new coffee shops that are fantastic, driving around town which is completely new to me, all the experiences, smells, memories, tastes and sights mingle in my brain and leave me feeling a bit sad as I walk through the familiar sights of Dublin Airport (although a lot has changed there since the 90s and seeing my dad off on long business trips, or going for a nighttime drive to see the Christmas lights).

I long for the day when I call Dublin, or Meath, or Cork, or wherever I end up, my home. To be among familiar faces, banter on buses, fall into familiar slang, all the things that feel so natural that I left behind for so long. I'm basically ready to go back. I just have some things to take care of first :) Namely, the small business of a PhD must be attended to. But really, a mere bagatelle.

A little feel of Denmark from a legend

I have been a huge fan of A Prairie Home Companion since childhood. The radio show was played on Saturday mornings on an Irish station, and my dad and I would listen, laugh, and sing along as I went about my Saturday extra curriculars; first gymnastics, then on to drama and ballet (I was a busy child). Garrison Keillor's warm voice is reminiscent for me of the safety net of childhood, of car rides on Saturdays, of that pre-adolescent security, when the world briefly made sense.

I had a Canadian guest staying last week, and we were pleasantly surprised to find out we were both familiar with the wonderful world of Lake Woebegone, 'where all the women are strong, all the men are good looking, and all the children are above average."

Even better than that, he told me about an excellent article written by Garrison Keillor from National Geographic, available on his website here. The article itself is from 1998, but all of his comments about Copenhagen and Denmark more generally are still so relevant. A wonderful, heartfelt piece of writing by someone who really understands and admires Denmark, which is funny and eternally true for a foreigner living here.

Please read it, I cannot recommend it enough! It may even bring a tear to your eye, if you are one who is as sentimental as I am.

While you're at it, if you're not familiar with A Prairie Home Companion, spend some time on the website listening to stories and songs about "the little town that time forgot, and the decades cannot improve."  The humour and sensibilities of a fake Midwestern town have never been so entertaining.

• Garrison Keillor National Geographic Article
• A Prairie Home Companion Website
• The Wiki about the show

And It's Good to be Home From Time to Time

For the Easter break I managed to book a cheap-ish flight home, so I got to go back to Ireland for more than a week, the longest I've been home by a long shot since I first moved away. Being at home stirs so many emotions. There's really nothing like walking down a quiet Grafton St., headphones in, soaking up the feeling of memories collliding with who you are now. I don't know if I could bear to live in Ireland again, the colloquial preoccupations and conservative undertones are too much for me, but it feels amazing to go back and play pretend for a few days every now and then.

While at home, I visited Bewley's no less than twice, made several Bus Eireann journeys, cycled my old faithful mountain bike I've been riding around the block since the tender age of twelve, cleaned out my bedroom, watched Intermission, and saw all of the people I love the most.

This shelf, this one shelf, contains so many sources of emotion that I can't even. I don't even actually care about or like the Furby, but that doesn't change its significance. Incidentally, Leo's aunt published Wicked the book (sitting below the book from Caroline I borrowed years ago but never read), from her own publishing house, and I am probably more in awe of this fact than most facts that exist today.

In addition, I went to The Giant's Causeway in country Antrim with my friends. We all wore matching 'feck off rain' tshirts and listened to terrible music. And got lost coming home. I had a whale of a time. The signage read 'The North', which we all found too funny, because everyone casually refers to 'The North' but I never in a thousand years thought they'd take it far enough so as to put it on the official road signs.

Everyone told me I'd be disappointed, that the Causeway is very small and unimpressive, but it was absolutely breathtaking. We climbed all over the rocks for about an hour, in what had to be the only sunny day Ireland has had in a year. I in no way exaggerate, it is amazing.

Sadly all good things come to an end, and the trip flew by. This is a picture I took of my room. I think it is fitting. If you ever have to go to Ireland for some reason, fly with Aer Lingus because they are the friendliest, kitchiest airline in existence. It is an absolute pleasure. So many 'sorry now love, would you mind just....' from the crew. Never flying Ryanair again after that experience.

Take care, be nice, remember to stay hydrated.