the hydranchula goes to ireland: part 1

the hyranchula goes to ireland is a series of posts i'll be making during my j term study abroad in dublin, ireland. these posts will look a little different because they will have proper capitalization and pictures because professors like proper capitalization and pictures. please follow me on instagram to see what i'm drinking and eating up to every day.

It was this time last year when I decided I needed a change. I’d spent my first three months in Chicago feeling all the feelings. I was proud of myself for moving away from home; the city made me confident. I was happy making friends with people I really enjoyed being around and exploring the city. I did well in my classes, and I finally felt like I was where I was meant to be. For the first time in a long time, I fit.

But somewhere in between winter break and the Polar Vortex, something changed. I felt like I was stuck in that grey area of time between sunlight and moonlight. Somewhere in that dusk, I lost myself.

So I decided to run away… kind of. It’s a bit difficult to run away from a year-long lease on an apartment, a full-time job and a full-time school schedule, so I compromised my wanderlust for a J Term study abroad.

When I pictured myself in another country, I saw Ireland. Something about the place calls to me. As I kid, I read fiction books about Irish children.  I would sit in my bed until midnight, reading with a flashlight so my parents wouldn’t know I was awake. I liked to pretend that I was one of them, wearing white dresses made grey by the hardships of famines and dirt floors and playing with the pet cat my real parents would never let me have because I was allergic. But in my Irish dreams, I was not.

“I think I’m going to go in Ireland in January,” I said on a Tuesday morning, like I was asking to borrow a pen from someone.

“I’m going to study abroad in Ireland in January,” I told my parents that same night.

“We’re going to Ireland, and you should come!” We screamed in our reporting class to anyone that would listen.

So here I am, months, weeks and days later from the day I bought my ticket to Ireland. Sitting in the same bed I read all of those books in as a kid, so many years later. The bed has moved, and the décor is different. The bed is in an entirely new zip code, with new sheets and different pillows.

But I am the same, and I feel like I’m finally going home to a place I’ve only visited in my dreams.

A few of my (now) packed essentials for the trip: passport, camera, disposable camera, lipstick and wallet, a AAA guide from my mama, my personal journal and a pair of mittens.