Dublin. It’s not that I love the city particularly, it’s that I love that I moved there when I was 18. Dublin was the first stop on my growing-up adventure and I love what it represents. I loved going to University there. I love how beautiful the old architecture is. I love that it was familiar and foreign all in one breath.
The Dublin I remember was multi-cultural and at times, incredibly insular. It was pubs, smoke and politics; it was parades, protests and being tossed over someone’s shoulder as we ran down O’Connell Street at 1 am. It was folk music and techno, tequila shots and tattoos; it was art, movies and smoking in Burger King. It was first-love, heartache and near-death; it was mistakes, triumphs and life-altering decisions.
Finally, Dublin is where I first heard the heartbeat and felt the belly-kick of the young man who is officially as tall as his mother.
I love it, but I’d never go back.
I love what Dublin was, and I know the city itself has changed in the 13 years since I’ve been. I may love it yet, if I was to give it a chance, or I may not. I think letting it be in my memory is the best – and most honest – tribute I can give it.
So, I bid Dublin farewell and look up the next stop on my growing-up adventure: why, London… Hello!