I can’t believe how much that week in Galway affected me. I’m still thinking about that week; last week. But not the nights out, not the classes, not the people I was with, not the funny moments - not even the WEEK… all that was fun, and very memorable etc… but all I can think about is the very last day.
We left Connemara and were dropped in Galway City on Friday to make our way home from there. And then I kinda accidentally lost everybody; heading off to check when my bus was, knowing the group was getting food, and then the train, together. I could’ve stretched to afford the train, but the bus was cheaper…
Also, I think after spending a week hanging out with people, a little self-company is pretty appealing… Ar aon nós, in the end, it was for the best because I decided to go to Limerick instead!
The bus wasn’t leaving for almost 2 hours.
So, laden down with bags (I am The Bag Lady – I always over-pack. It’s easier than deciding what to bring. I still never take the right stuff), I wandered the streets of Galway for a little while.
Here’s something weird – I was completely lost and don’t know my way around at all, but I kinda felt at home. I recognised little pieces (signs, shopfronts, funny micro-landmarks like confectionary stands – the odd, insignificant stuff a younger me remembered) here and there. More than anything, though, I recognised the vibe of the place. It felt comfortable. A better fit.
I barely even remember living in Galway, but I miss it. Is that mental?
… Probably a little.
When I moved to Limerick first, I hated it. I made friends (eventually) but I always hated it. I refused to say I was from Limerick. I was from Galway. My passport still said so. But I don’t still say so. After nearly a decade in the place, I stopped insisting I was from Galway, and instead set my sights on Dublin: new, big, busy, far away.
Anyway, I’ve decided I wanna live in Galway for a while. Not now – I have one more year left in my Journalism and Irish course. When I’m done, though, I’d like to look for a job – any job – there, and find a flat (on my own, or with randomers/students – don’t care) and just… see what it’s like. Start again. See what happens.
When I moved to Dublin, it was on my own. I wanna do the same again. Off to Galway, no plan, maybe sign up to some sort of something to have an excuse to go/opps to meet people once there, but I don’t really have a reason, or care what I do there. I feel like I want to go. And I’m gonna.
Maybe there’s a drawing course I can do? That sounds good. That’s my greatest love, and I’ve been ignoring it.
Why? ‘Cos I got scared away from pursuing it by someone who meant well and was right about everything else.
I don’t feel at home in Dublin, except in the Harcourt “Asylum”. And I don’t feel at home in Limerick, except in my parents’ house.
Maybe I won’t feel at home in Galway either, I wonder if it’s nothing more than a buncha rose-coloured kiddie memories… but the last time I did feel home-y was when I lived there, and an hour’na’half of wandering its streets last Friday was enough to make me think that it might still be possible to get that “home” feeling back.
I needed to get away from the exhausting, repetative schedule I've had for the last while and open my eyes. I'm glad I did.