It is not that often that you go on a holiday, and walk out of the plane and feel like you arrived home.
Dublin. It is hard to say exactly what it is about the city that attracts, fascinates, compels me so strongly. The city is a bit run-down, old and dusty but has that cozy worn feel to it, like an old blanket with its colours having faded so long ago you can barely remember. There are short red brick houses lined up next to each other, stairs leading to the brightly-coloured doors in the suburbs and abundance of flowers bringing life to the otherwise quite modest surroundings. Everything you need is within a walking distance, the city is big and full of life yet the atmosphere is strangely relaxed, welcoming. Groups of people sit by the river sipping the gorgeous creations of the local breweries, the sun starts to slowly set as the office buildings release the weary workers from the day’s duties – people smile as they casually stroll past, it’s time to head off to the pub to socialize for a bit. I love and loved the atmosphere, the pub culture, the casual hanging out and chatting to strangers over a pint on a Monday evening. Monday. No one is out in Helsinki on a Monday.
I was lucky to have a dear friend having just moved to Dublin for there was someone familiar to spend the evenings with after exploring the city during the days. We would cook, chat, go on casual strolls around the neighbourhood and stop for a pint or two -or four- over the coming days with her wonderful friends.
As I was alone during the days, I would have one goal per day,
to go where I felt like, to follow the flow.
The aim was to talk to strangers – much easier than I could ever have expected as people mistook me for a local thanks to my reddish hair and fair complexion. The aim was to get lost, to wander around the smallest of alleys, to stop to listen to the street musicians and watch the people going past. To smile ’till my jaw hurt, to absorb the international vibe to the fullest, to smile and politely nod when understanding nothing of the charming (and often drunk) Irish men who came to talk to me.
I admired countless pictures at photo exhibitions and corner galleries, black and white war images and portraits of the unknown heroes stirring some feelings deep within, I stopped by museums, admired the architecture. Shopped till I dropped – the vintage shops have some true gems in them, then grabbed some lunch and read a book in the park surrounded by tourists and locals enjoying their lunch breaks in the sun. I felt like I belonged, I felt comfortable even casually strolling through supermarkets for everything reminded of my beloved New Zealand – even got my friend hooked on hot cross buns and the sweet sultana scones. Heh, even the thought of that place makes me smile, now, two months after being back in Helsinki – yet another place in this world I call home.
It is crazy to admit I was in Dublin for only five days, but felt truly sad to leave. Maybe I’ll try suss out an internship there, or at least go for a longer visit and not miss out on the Whiskey Friday.
Dublin my darling, I will be back.
Ps. Isabel, thank you for letting me stay at your place. You are awesome ❤