I am leaving Ireland for the second time in two years today. My first attempt at emigration was to London. Unlike many of my counterparts, I was not driven there by economic necessity or the desire to escape some sort of stifling orthodoxy, as many of my London friends still like to believe. I left Dublin because I craved a sense of adventure, a change, a challenge, an experience.
A close friend provided the perfect opportunity. She was moving to London from Paris and so we agreed to rendezvous in Paddington with friends. We eventually found a humble little flat around the corner on Edgware Road and together we started our year-long experience in London.
In truth, I would have preferred to move to Paris. But London was just easier. There’s no language barrier, it’s closer, it’s familiar. It provides all the beauties of a great metropolis with the ease of €40 return flights home. There is even a direct bus from Victoria to Busarás (though I would sooner stick hot needles in my eyes that take the bus again). After six lonely months, London grew on me and I came to love it.
But, after a further six months, I returned to Dublin, this time for a job opportunity which I would have been foolish to pass up. In London I was working as a wine-seller, but it was a job, not a career. Now Dublin was providing me with the type of opportunity and challenge I originally sought in London; an opportunity to work in a museum, to work as an historian, to start a career for myself that would give me purpose.
I left London on a high, and I liked being back in Dublin. For the first time since I graduated, in the midst of the gloom of recession, I saw myself on a career path, in a job I enjoyed. Dublin was offering me a future.
But the city was not the same. Friends had either moved away or moved on, and I found myself looking back to London and its teaming millions.
I didn’t realise it at the time, but I now know I had fallen in love. In my last months in London I met a wonderful man who became a wonderful friend and partner. He showed me parts of London I had never seen, an underground boules bar near Chancery Lane where I met his friends and the silent history of the streets of Hampstead village where his family lived.
We continued our relationship for a while after I left, but unfortunately not all relationships can weather the turbulence of the Irish Sea. And now I am preparing to leave Ireland again for the second time in two years.
Today I am flying to Lyon. But in truth, this time I would prefer to be flying to London. It is closer and familiar, more so now than before. But Lyon is offering me a challenge, an experience, something new.
I am more prepared for emigration this time. I have a job waiting for me, a flat in the 5th Arrondissement and more money saved than I thought possible six months ago. France is presenting so many opportunities to me (many of which come with complimentary wine) but I am still dreaming of London and that underground boules bar and Hampstead village.
I will be in Lyon for six months, to study French and to continue down my career path, but I do not see myself returning to Ireland to live and work. There is no adventure here for me anymore.
This May, Eurostar will begin services from Lyon to London, €55 direct to St Pancras. For me, Lyon is a stopover on a longer journey back to London. I don't know if I will get to see the underground boules bar again, or the winding streets of Hampstead. Not everything can be as it was. But maybe I can try and reclaim as much as I can. Come May, it will only be a four-hour train journey back to London.
For more about returning to Ireland, see articles by Lucy Michael, 'After I moved home to Ireland nothing felt normal', and Ceire Sadlier, 'Returning to Ireland has been a whirlwind of emotion'.
