Losing my Religion in Dublin, Ireland (and finding it again)

I look around me and there´s a room full of expatriots and backpackers, drinking cheap beers and howling over some joke that someone just made, and for once I don´t feel glad to be here but melancholic, and a little bit lost; and I wonder: Aren´t all these people a little bit lost?

Lost in the world, lost to the strings of family and friends back home, lost to ordinary location-based work, duties, thinking?

I always thought losing myself in the realms and endless possibilities out there was what made me happy. Beautiful strangers, made to friends in an instant, and I always felt welcome and at home wherever I went.

This time is different. I don´t feel at home. I don´t feel the usual thrill of meeting new people. On the contrary: I am critical towards these people more than anything. What is happening? Is this a turning point? Have I lost my backpacking gene?

Making Friends in New Zealand

Now, I feel lonely. I don´t feel at home.

I don´t think so, though.

It´s more so that maybe I´ve just met so many people in my 23-year old life now that I have simply grown more critical to those surrounding me. The naive 19-year old that I was when I set off for my gap year after High School that embraced each and every living organism on this world is gone – replaced by someone who is more worldly, has changed, is more selective. Is that a good or a bad thing? I don´t know. It makes me not feel comfortable in every situation I am in. But it also means that I have finally grown more conscious to what sort of people is my cup of tea, and what is not.

I remember travelling with an old school friend of mine through South-East Asia last autumn and we had this big argument how she is rude to strangers when I think politeness would be more appropriate. Like to this stupid-as German guy we met in Kao-San Road who was so obviously just there for partying and spending all his savings on cheap bucket cocktails (he really was stupid, I admit) where she was so disgusted that she could barely even talk to him and went to bed early while I sauntered along with these guys to have a fun (but shallow) party night and tumble back to bed at six in the morning. She said something then that struck me as so honest, and real, that it really made me think. I´d have to lie if I said I can remember the exact words, but it was something along the lines of better being with a few selected people than with a huge group where she actually feels like not fitting in.

Makes sense, in a way.

Also, I think one of the reasons was that I had just met someone back at home who I had grown very attached to and whom I was missing now and thinking of fondly. Sure, I always had my family and my friends who I loved dearly. But until then I had always felt so comfortable everywhere else that I didn´t miss them when I was gone. Now, I missed this particular person by my side. Maybe backpacking only worked out so perfectly for me because I didn´t feel my strings to home so strongly? Probably.

Have I lost faith in backpacking now?

Hell, no!

I still had a wonderful weekend in Dublin.

Our charming couchsurfing hosts Allan and Peter took us out to a great cultural evening in one of Dublin´s hidden spots, a high-ceilinged room in some community apartment with lots of middle-aged people sitting around round tables sipping Guinness and cider singing old celtic songs and reciting gaelic poems. I loved the sound of the ancient language and when everybody joined into the more well-known choruses, I had goose bumps on my arms (and secretly tried to sing along, and felt like Celine Dion when I managed okay).

We went to the old Cobblestone pub to listen to Irish live music and drink our very first real Irish Guinesses that my pa swears taste just like old dishwashing water but I quite like, must have been the atmosphere that helped, too.

The next day we spent three hours trudging after a tour guide in the light rain trying to concentrate on Dublin´s rich and interesting history while simultaneously freezing our feet off. I´ve never welcomed a short toilet-break in a café more than on this day, I believe.

Sandeman´s Free Walking Tours - always a good option

Trinity College in the Rain

The evening we spent with the people mentioned above, and I even managed to have some fun in the bar we went to later, where they also played electro to my great surprise. And pop songs downstairs, which is just as fun if you´re in the right mood.

Sunday, us two German girls ventured out to the little coastal town of Bray to eat fish´n´chips on the beach, feed seagulls, laze in the welcoming sun and hike the 5km cliff path to Graystone to finally spend the evening in Temple Bar drinking more Guinness and cider and Jameson cocktails, singing gaily along to the live music and dancing, just because we can, and because that´s what everybody seems to do on a sunday evening in Ireland.

Monday morning, I sit back in the plane to my old life in Berlin. Good old snowy Berlin awaits me, hooray. I don´t feel as sad as I usually do when a trip ends. Still, I had a great weekend in Dublin, and the little green island definitely has a place in my heart now.

At this very moment, I am already making new plans for what comes next.

Backpacking changes you, but you change the backpacking, too.

Now it´s your turn: Have you ever had backpacking crisises? Or was there something like turning points, where you thought you had lost faith in travelling? If yes, why, and how? Also, have you ever been to Dublin, and what did you like most about it?