Chloe Wright
Editor-in-Chief
In Ireland, the weather has a vengeance against anyone with a beating heart. During my fall study abroad program, I learned this truth the hard way.
I stood in front of the tour bus and waited for my guide to come back from the Applegreen gas station–essentially an Irish Buc-ee’s. He had scolded me for nearly missing the bus on a previous stop. So, I expected him to be happy that I came thirty minutes early before our departure time.
Eventually the rain came, so I decided to stay outside without shelter. I was committed. Thirty minutes passed, and he came out of the gas station. But when he noticed that I waited all this time, I didn’t get a nod of approval. He looked at me like I was an idiot. “What are you doing?” He asked, no humor in his voice, “Why are you waiting outside? In the cold? In the rain? Get in.”
I lived in Ireland for three and a half months. To say that I experienced the full spectrum of Irish weather is an understatement. The rain there falls sideways (which I did not know was even possible). If the weather app says it will be sunny, bring an umbrella anyway; if living there taught me anything, it was how to be resilient.
Whether it was against the whims and wills of Mother Nature or crying babies on cheap RyanAir flights, Dublin taught me the importance of persevering even if something is really, really annoying. Living in a capital city meant that I would navigate an inconsistent and intimidating public transport system. Endless traffic and bus drivers who think they’re the next Max Verstappen all gave me strife. But, by December, I knew the Luas route like the back of my hand. If a bus driver didn’t care about my signaling them down, I would wait for the next one.
As I think of the past Chloe, late to a dinner because of missing a bus and breaking down on O’Connell street, I see someone who needed these experiences. I was no stranger to inconveniences that snowballed into chaotic situations, but I was a stranger in a strange land. And I was learning a word my American self was unfamiliar with: public transportation.
While I was degrading myself, saying that I was behind my peers and couldn’t make it abroad, I forgot something very important: a lack of worldly education is exactly what studying abroad seeks to fix. I was simply going through the motions as expected.
My goals for the semester were broad. We were asked during orientation week to write down our hopes on a little sheet of paper to keep until December. I wanted to see a winter-laden Prague in honor of my grandmother, befriend the locals, finish all of my assignments on time, volunteer, and experience everything I could of Ireland. My to-visit list contained about 600 words of dreams and hopes to experience Ireland with a capital I. You can predict the end of this story, that I do not accomplish everything on my list.
I befriended two locals; saw Amsterdam in the winter instead of Prague (bad idea); finished 70% of my assignments on time; volunteered at a disorganized English school; and didn’t even get to go to Galway. I was not a Galway Girl. Ed Sheeran would be disappointed.
But I was a Dublin girl, and Dublin was the kind of friend who would tell you if you had food in your teeth; she would correct your form at the gym, tell you to confront your feelings, and wouldn’t hold back laughing if you got a bad haircut; she would remind me that all things pass. In short, I loved it there.
Before the downpour at Irish Buc-ee’s, the tourist bus took us to the gentle, rolling Irish countryside. Shades of green I didn’t even know existed weaved into the blades of grass. Sunlight bounced off the hills and shone on the sheep as if they were little angels. As I gazed out the bus window, I had two thoughts: this reminds me of Tennessee, and I am going to let this linger.