I have been reluctant to post this because I feel like somehow being honest about this would undermine all of the people who said, “I am so jealous of you! You are going to have a great time!” And, I mean, sure, yes, I am. But I’m also… Lonely. And alone. So there’s the flip side of the coin. Eh.
Friday was the first time I cried since I arrived here.
I didn’t have plans for the weekend at all, aside from a dinner with my boss and another person from the Atlanta office who is going to be visiting us for a week on Sunday (today). That dinner has since been cancelled, so I decided to write this.
I was frustrated because I didn’t know anybody and I still don’t. I hinted at my coworkers that it sure would be swell to do something over the weekend but none of them took the bait. So, I decided to walk home instead, seeing that the fresh air at least would be better than spending more time in my room. Alone.
So I did, I walked home, through St. Stephen’s Green and through places I don’t know the names of. Then I came to the Grand Canal and Portobello, then through Rathmines, then down Rathgar Rd to home. Wesley Place.
I don’t really know what I expected when I came here. Obviously I couldn’t depend on coworkers to be my life support system, especially considering we see each other all day almost every day. But then where… how… did I expect to meet people otherwise? My flatmates are lovely but kinda antisocial. And I don’t know where or how to find people otherwise. I feel very… stuck. And it takes the sheen off of living abroad.
I’ve been here for about… a month so far? It will be exactly one week tomorrow, in fact. And I am feeling the pangs of homesickness. Although Ireland is otherwise mostly green and lovely, all of the front courts of Dublin homes have been converted into rock gardens or parking lots, so it tends to be less inviting, more stoic than what I’m used to.
Yesterday I decided to walk some more, again. I mapquested it and it’s about a three-mile walk into city centre. So I walked up again, taking a slightly different route, and came across a high-class supermarket that reminds me vaguely of Dean & Deluca in New York. But what put me off was that right next to the glorious supply of French imported goods in fancy little glass jars or wooden crates, were things like Jif peanut butter and Lucky Charms and Betty Crocker bake mix.
I wanted to snatch all of them up and take them home with me.
I don’t remember feeling this homesick the last time. I think it was probably because I was surrounded by Americans who were whining about how things are different. I wanted to slap them upside the head and say, “Of course things are different! It’s a different country, get used to it!”
But now it’s just me.
I had a really lovely coffee the other day with a fellow American. But she is happily married and expecting so I can’t exactly force her to indulge my social urges. I’ve been exploring social networking sites to see if there are any leads but nothing looks promising.
I forget how much more fun travelling is when you can actually experience it with other people. I am going to try and document my experiences a little more. I’ve been appreciating all of the comments. I just get so apathetic and throw myself into further solitary tasks. My biggest social moment today was going to Insomnia Coffee and getting a large cappuccino and reading The Poisonwood Bible, followed by a rowdy trip to Tesco for my weekly grocery purchases. Woo!
My parents are currently travelling around England and are set to arrive here on Friday. I really can’t wait.