When I first moved to Ireland, I wrote an article about my experiences, and it got published on Milkround. I later wrote a follow up article, but here is the original piece.
I was reluctant to leave university and clung onto my flat until the last day. It’s not that there’s anything wrong with my family home, but university gets you used to living independently. Living under someone else’s roof, sharing a bathroom and not having a lockable door was not something I looked forward to. I needed an escape.
I considered cruise and airhostess roles; ways to get away and earn money, but I didn’t fancy being alone. I’d made some great friends at university, but now they were so far away. It was one of these friends who came to my rescue. A flatmate, who was moving to Ireland for work, suggested I go with him. I toyed with the idea for a while before declaring it insane. Yet the idea stayed with me, niggling at the back of my mind. I’d lived in the same town my entire life, yet always said I didn’t want to stay. Here was an opportunity to live in another country, get away from my parents and have an adventure. I ran the idea past some friends, who were more supportive than I’d expected. They wanted me to be happy.
A month later I’d packed as much of my life as the airline allowed and boarded a plane for Dublin. People kept telling me how brave I was. I felt the opposite. I had nowhere to live, no job and no plan. My friend and I had tried to book some viewings for flats, but things move fast in Dublin. It seemed the procedure was to call in the morning, see it in the afternoon and sign straight away. After checking into a hotel we arranged some viewings in the city centre but were appalled by the places on our budget. We walked right past one “apartment”, on the edge of a dodgy-looking estate, mistaking it for a garage. The weekend came and it became more difficult to book appointments, until by a stroke of luck we heard of a nearby town called Dun Laoghaire. We found a place we could see on a Saturday and were impressed. It was bigger than anywhere we’d seen in the city, and was so bright with massive windows and on the coast. We told the landlady we’d get back to her, but after spotting a nearby newsagent, park and restaurant we rushed to sign. Since then we’ve properly explored the area and found a shopping centre, supermarket, cinema, bars and a small beach in walking distance. I’ve found a place to call my own. Yet the job hunt continues...
The grass might not be any greener in Ireland, and the job situation might not be any better, but I’ve got my freedom back, and more importantly I’ve found motivation to restart the job hunt with renewed enthusiasm. Moving to another country might not be for everyone, but if you’ve got the post-graduation blues and someone offers you an adventure, think twice before you turn them down.
