A Broad Abroad: Packing for Four Months in Dublin
Years ago, when Skechers were status and allowance was adult, traveling to a new country was ordinary. I moved from Rome to Berlin to Cairo before turning 16 and spent spring breaks in Tunisia, Turkey, and the Czech Republic. That sounds magical…now. When you’re young, even the amazing can become mundane. The Vatican lost its intrigue by the third field trip. Germany had lots of history but no Oreos. The Nile was Biblical, but we saw it as a convenient spot to pregame. This is what they were talking about when they told us: “You’ll understand when you’re older.”
I’m older now. And I could kick young Hannah for not seeing the magic of it all. When we’re kids, no matter where we live, we care about recess, getting our hands on ‘Parental Advisory’ CDs, and what’s for dinner. I would have gone to the Sistine Chapel with you, just not when Keenan & Kel was on. I regret not keeping a diary when I was seven or looking up from my Gameboy from time to time. Because lately those 15 years have started to feel foreign, a bittersweet irony given that the foreign was always home.
When people ask me where I’m from I usually say Philadelphia, where I was born. It’s just easier. That means most people I meet today (some who actually know me pretty well) will never know about my overseas stint. And that’s fine, it wouldn’t change our relationship. It’s a strange feeling, though, to get to know people without ever revealing what I think makes me, me. There’s no way to mention at a party that you were raised abroad without it sounding like “Hey, objectively speaking, my upbringing was significantly more interesting than yours but please, tell me more about that time you borrowed your parents’ car without asking.”
No one likes a show off.
Being a third-culture kid defined me for a long time. But slowly, it’s just becoming a fun fact. I’ve worried that my memories are going to slip away completely. Then recently, something funny happened. I got the chance to move to Dublin for a few months for work. I leave in 2 weeks. I’ve only been to Dublin once, for about 72 hours, but somehow it feels like I’m going home. Like I’m getting back to my roots.
I’m in a committed relationship with wanderlust. And that’s why those 15 years will never be lost, whether they come up at a party or not. The world and I will always find our way back to each other. And this time, I’m not going to roll my eyes at it or complain that the walk from downtown Luxor to the Valley of Kings hurts my feet. (Buy better shoes, damnit.) This time I’m prepared to appreciate every moment, to soak up the good, the new, and the uncomfortable. As I pack for this adventure, there are a few things I’m taking that should help me do just that:
Adult Rain Boots: It rains in Dublin. A lot. Rain boots always make me feel like an astronaut, though. (Read: unattractive). So I need to buy a pair immediately that doesn’t compromise fashion for function. Recommendations welcome.
My Beyoncè Walk: When I first joined the “real world” a few years ago, my manager went above and beyond to build up my confidence. I honestly don’t know how she did all the things she did in those first few years; I was a full-time job. (Still am sometimes, love you KB.) She had this uncanny ability to know just how far outside my comfort zone I needed to be pushed. And whenever there was an intimidating project, meeting, or presentation on the table, she’d say “Use this as an opportunity to practice your Beyoncè walk.” There’s no better way to express the importance of attitude to a 22-year-old girl. Trust me. Her advice stuck with me and now’s the perfect time to take it. The next four months are going to be full of opportunities disguised as curve balls. I can keep my head down or I can practice my walk to turn them into big things. I choose the latter.
Confession: Dublin’s actually met my Beyoncè walk before. When I was there a few months ago, a few of us had a girls night out. I pointed out a tall, handsome, mysterious guy at the bar and they encouraged me to go talk to him. I was going back to America the next day so I didn’t have much to lose; it was a convincing argument. I did a hair flip (obviously) and walked over to introduce myself.
He couldn’t have been less interested. His one word answers and staring at the floor was not what I was expecting. I didn’t get it, I was oozing confidence and had on really good lipstick. Confused, I asked “Do you have a girlfriend?” He nodded and said “Yes, she’s actually sitting right behind you.” I smiled, said it was lovely meeting you, and strutted back to my seat. Part of mastering your Beyoncè walk is knowing when to Beyoncè walk away.
Tons of Acuvue Contacts: I’m not sure if I can buy them there as cheaply, and I usually drop the left eye on the floor in the morning so having back ups will be key.
The Head on My Shoulders: I’m going to be a 25-year-old woman traveling and exploring Europe, sometimes on my own. That means I’m going to have a lot of great material for a book one day but it’s also dangerously close to the plot of “Taken”. Luckily, living in the Middle East for a few years helped develop my spidey senses and I’m pretty good about not being an idiot. But when I’m on the fence, taking a cab home or not having one more drink is probably the right call.
Zero Inhibitions: In work and life, it’s easy to stick to what you know. No one likes to be uncomfortable or to put themselves out there. But a change of scenery makes you realize how small all of your inhibitions really are; many of my insecurities get lost in translation as soon as I get out of town.
I’ve been in my role for almost a year now and it’s time to shake things up. Now’s the perfect time to experiment, pitch that idea that sounded too risky a few months ago, and challenge people when I know my gut is right. It’s hard to leave your demons at home when you know they’ll be there waiting for you after work. So, I’m going to use this opportunity to leave mine in Boston and hope my subletter doesn’t notice.
Adapters: Critical for keeping my curly hair at bay, Instagramming things that make you jealous, charging my toothbrush, and a variety of other basic human needs.
An Appetite: And not just for Guinness. For listening, eating, watching, exploring, failing, drinking, learning, flirting, traveling. All of it. 16 weeks will fly by and there’s no excuse for not taking advantage of every moment. (Except maybe insufficient funds, but that’s where the head on my shoulders comes in handy, too.)
Lots of other things need to come with me that didn’t make the list. But it’s a start. As long as I leave some room in my suitcase, we’ll be fine, because I’m going to come back with much more than I left with. I don’t know what those things will be but if my first 15 years taught me anything, it’s that the world can fill you up and leave you with some baggage. So, it’s best to be ready for it.
