One of the biggest uncertainties I carried with myself into my semester in Cork, Ireland wasn’t the visas or flights, but funny enough my own routine. The further I’ve gotten through my years at Salve, the more I’ve begun to realize my need for structure in order to feel like myself. So the idea of that structure dissolving, or days of travels making the everyday tasks untethered, felt quite unsettling. But what I’ve learned here is that routine doesn’t disappear when you go somewhere new, rather, it reshapes itself, and maybe that reshaping is the whole point of study abroad.
After setting into the soft, near constant drizzle that characterizes life in Cork, I began to find my own rhythm again. In comparison to Newport RI, this routine takes on a productive, yet slower form, making more space for the art of noticing. Feeling much more intimate than the hustle in the capital of Dublin, my days are filled with narrow streets, colorful storefronts, and a general sense that my smallest of interactions deem the most important.
Just like most weekdays, my Wednesday begins on the bright green campus of University College Cork, where this morning I had my lecture on Indigenous Irish Herbology. From there, I make my way further into town to the English Market, where errands feel more like catching up. Just after a couple weeks, I quickly began to recognize faces from my usual butcher, the rhythm of daily greetings, and what once was a new surroundings upon arrival, is now routine in its best form. After going to my list of vendors, getting local produce, a fresh loaf of sourdough, meat, and eggs, I make my way home for the afternoon.
Back at the apartment, I set out fresh daffodils in the kitchen, a small ritual inspired by the ones I saw at Blarney Castle earlier that week. They bring a bit of brightness to our mostly grey days, reminding of how even the brief moments, like a quick weekend trip to those castle grounds, can peep into everyday doings.
Later that afternoon, I pull on my rain boots and head to Cork Lotus Yoga, where once you make it through a humble alley up three floors of the historic townhouse, you are greeted with an immediate warm welcome. It’s here, surrounded by those whose lives are rooted in Cork, from mothers, workers getting off their shifts, grandmothers, and other familiar strangers, that I’ve felt most connected to a place since landing in Ireland. These are the interactions that stay with me: a “thanks a million” at the bakery, a casual question about my classes, and despite the urban setting, the quiet sense of being folded within a community.
And while there are still moments that are sure to take your breath away, such as standing on the edge of the Cliffs of Mothers, watching the birds fly into a blue sea, white sheep dotting endless hills, it’s those smaller moments that have truly defined my experience here. The routines. The conversations.The feeling of being new, yet known.
Studying abroad, I’ve realized that it is not only about where you go, but how you live while being there. Here in Cork, I’ve found a routine that looks different to the one I left at home for the term, but in many ways, feels even more like my own. And of course, I end my best the best way I know how, with my friends and a pint of Orchard Thieves cider in a dimly lit pub, live Irish music drifting throughout conservations and into the night.
Comments are closed.