Should old acquaintance be forgot

So here we are, another trip around the sun under our belts. What souvenirs did we pick up this time?

As much as I like to pretend that I’m not into the whole “New Year, New Me” malarkey, I can’t help but feel reflective as one year ends and another begins. This year was a strange one, filled with big changes both in my lifestyle and my mindset. So let’s recap shall we?

Disgruntled and disgusted by Dublin rent prices, I bought a houseboat in February which has been my city home since April. The boat has given me so much financial freedom and granted me the independence that I so desperately craved, but it definitely didn’t fix every thing.

I came to the realisation this year that Dublin just isn’t for me. I’ve tried, and my friends keep saying to give it time, but I think that after a year and a half if I’m not feeling it yet, then it’s just not going to happen. So I made a plan to get back to the West coast. A plan that involves going back to Uni for a second Masters and hopefully a career change by next September.

Which brings me to my next change of mind in 2018. For as long as I can remember, all I ever wanted was to be an archaeologist. So when I came home to Ireland in 2017 and finally got a job in the field I was delighted, but 18 months in, I find myself at a dead end. I’ve progressed as far as I can without getting a license, and with the next recession looming, I can’t seem to shake this sense of impending doom. So here I am, 31 years old and back in University trying to retrain for a more administrative role.

As for acquaintances, I find myself drifting further and further from my childhood best friend. There was a time when she felt like a sister to me, but certain events of the past 2 years have shown me that we have both grown and changed into very different people, with highly opposed world views and ethics. I’ve been incredibly torn about this for a long time, but the distance between us is becoming more and more pronounced, and I’m learning to accept and let go of what I thought would be a lifelong friendship. To be fair, 25 years is a great run, and she will always be special to me, but at this point in our lives, we’re just not good for one another. Perhaps we will one day find our way back to each other, but for now I think it’s best for both of us if we just live our lives separately, supporting one another from a distance.

The changing of the year can bring in a lot of new changes where people feel energised by the fervour of resolutions all around them. It’s a time for adopting new habits, but maybe it can equally be a time for letting go of old behaviours and patterns that don’t serve us anymore. Endings are just as important as beginnings, and I think, for me at least, this is the year to embrace that sentiment.

Another New Year’s post

It’s January 1st and we all know what that means. New Year, new me right? Well why? Why are we so concerned with desperate attempts to reinvent ourselves every time the clock strikes 12 on December 31st? Are we so terrible as we are? Granted the festive period leaves most feeling bloated, lethargic, and ready for a detox, but that doesn’t mean that we’re not great as we are. A little rounder perhaps, but that doesn’t make us bad people, and losing those extra few pounds won’t make us any happier unless we first learn to love ourselves just as we are.

So this New Year I’m not going to make any resolutions to starve myself or work my fingers to the bone. Instead I’m just going to commit to truly loving myself and as a consequence I will do more of the things that I love.

Reading, running, writing, and travelling. That’s what my 2018 is going to look like. With plenty of rest and quality time spent with friends along the way.

Here’s to a wonderful year.

Projections

Do you ever catch yourself over reacting to someone’s actions and stop and think about why you’re so angry? I’ve been processing those thoughts a lot lately. I’m starting to come to the conclusion that perhaps the heartaches of the past (both recent and long forgotten) have not left me quite so unscathed as I once believed. I’m not upset about the guy who ghosted me after six weeks. How could I be? Even before he vanished into the night, I had been doing some soul searching and come to  the conclusion that I didn’t really want to be with him long term. So why have I let it knock my confidence so much?

It must be the dreaded ex. It has to be.

When he first left me, I felt so abandoned, so unloveable, so worthless. It took a lot of time, tears, and travel to get beyond those feelings and rebuild my self love, and I really was in love with my life. But now I just feel so out of sorts. I wouldn’t even go so far as to say that I’m saddened in any sort of deep, lasting way. I just feel off kilter. Like my feelings are out of sync with my life somehow. It’s obvious that this recent rejection has just brought back the feelings of abandonment that I spent the early months of the year banishing. The logical part of my mind knows that, but my simian lines have never allowed me to listen to logic.

The worst part is that I don’t feel like I can actually talk to anyone about how I’m feeling, because they’ve all seen me embark on this arduous journey back to happiness, and it would break my heart to shatter the illusion for them. Also, I’m sort of ashamed of the fact that I’ve let something and someone so insignificant take me down such a massive peg.

I should be stronger than this.

I thought I was stronger than this.

I guess for now I’ll just pour my soul into the void of the internet and the beautiful anonymity of blogging.

I know you love Hallowe’en, but isn’t it a little early for ghosts?

So I’ve been ghosted.

I know that makes me just another grain of salt in the sea of discarded lovers out there, and yet, I’m still shocked that there are actual grown ass adults out there who think that this is acceptable behaviour.

In today’s supply and demand dating world, it’s easy to see how people can find a limitless supply of better options to fuel their greener grass impulses. However, what I don’t understand is why we think that we are excused out acts of extreme cowardice. Just pick up the fucking phone, send the text, and let that be that. How hard can it be?

Hey, I’ve been really enjoying our time together, but to be honest, I just don’t see a long term future for us. I think you’re great, but this just isn’t compatible with my needs right now. I hope that you don’t think I’m being a dick here, but I just don’t want to lead you on.

See? Easy!

In case it wasn’t already glaringly obvious, I am really pissed about this. Will I get over it? Of course. I got over the dramatic break down of an almost 5 year relationship, I’ll get over this, probably by dinnertime (never discredit the power of hanger), but that does not excuse the crime.

People, grow up and learn to communicate!

End rant.

Love in the time of Tinder

So, online dating. Does anyone actually enjoy it? I know some people really do find meaningful relationships through apps and websites, and I’m happy for them, really I am, but as I trudge through the endless cycle of swiping, texting, dating, and ghosting, I can’t help but feel a little saddened. Surely there has to be more? When did human beings become so disposable? We live in a time where we are presented with an endless supply of potential lovers, all sitting, waiting patiently in the palm of our hand. Swipe right, swipe left, swipe right, ding ding, a match! Maybe this time they’ll be somewhat normal, maybe even a gentleman, maybe they’ll take me out for an old-fashioned date where we’ll share a milkshake and giggle nervously as we discuss our likes and dislikes, maybe, just maybe, Oh, wait a minute… dick pic.

Unmatch and start again.

It’s exhausting, and to be perfectly honest, really disheartening. Perhaps worse than the instant assholes are the ones that turn out to be really good at hiding their nastier sides, usually right up until you’ve slept with them a couple of times. You’re just getting comfortable enough to think about the possibility of a real relationship developing here, then you find out that they think homeless people are to blame for their problems and deserve to be on the street.

Unmatch and start again.

So you’re more careful next time. You are more selective with your swipes. You meet someone who seems to actually be genuinely interested. They tick every box on paper, they make you laugh, share a tonne of interests, all that great stuff that compatible relationships are made of. So you let your guard down and you date for a few weeks, talk all the time, have some great weekends together. Finally, this is it, this one gets me, there is actual potential here and BOO! Hallowe’en came early this year bitches, you’ve just been ghosted.

Unmatch and start again.

So it’s back to the drawing board yet again. Maybe a change of app will work, or maybe we all just need a change of attitude. When we live in a world where you can break up with someone on a Friday morning and be on a date with someone else by lunchtime, can we ever truly commit to the person in front of us? Maybe we all just need to re-educate ourselves on how to appreciate other people for who they are and not the fantasy which we impose upon their image.

To be honest, the prospect of living alone with a thousand cats and pugs becomes more appealing every single day.

It’s funny how things work out

Life is good right now. Suspiciously good.

Work is going great, and I still get a little flutter in my stomach when people ask me what I do and I can actually say, “I’m an archaeologist “.

My social life has taken off for the first time in years. To be honest, that’s mostly thanks to Tinder, but I guess that’s just the world we live in now.

I’m loving life in Dublin, somewhere that I never thought I’d get to live, mostly because of extortionate rent and a severe lack of jobs. Something about the city just feels right for me at this exact point in time.

It just feels like everything has fallen into place and, at least for now, I’m right where I’m meant to be.

Everything happens for a reason?

So, after my grand Trans Siberian adventure soothed the pangs of my broken heart, I came home to celebrate my Mother’s 70th birthday and, eventually, settle into life back in Ireland. I’ve tried doing this before, quite a few times actually. Trouble is, the reasons why I left in the first place (recession = zero jobs = mass immigration = all friends have gone) were always still there. I saw a pattern emerge over and over again. I would come home, be all excited for the first week or so, then start job hunting and realise that there was no work to be had. I have a Masters degree and 13 years of work experience, and I couldn’t get a job. What the actual fuck? After a few weeks of futile job applications and unanswered emails, I would resign myself to just enjoying some time at home. That’s when the harsh reality would kick in that there was nobody here. I mean nobody. All of my friends either high tailed it out of the country, and in most cases the continent, or else they were in Dublin, spending a fortune on rent and working every waking minute to keep their heads above water. So there wasn’t even the excitement of home town fun times to keep me going. Every time it would descend into a dull, lifeless nightmare, and I would inevitably wind up leaving again.

But something is different now.

The whole country seems to be buzzing with life again. Maybe it’s the Wild Atlantic Way calling travellers from across the globe to explore our emerald isle? Maybe it’s the massive tax breaks that American companies get rewarded with for investing here? I mean, it’s anyone’s guess really. But whatever the reason, Ireland is most definitely back on its feet. So much so, that for the first time in the 7 years since I graduated (9 since my Bachelors), I finally have  a job offer in archaeology. 6 years ago I wrote to every heritage company and interpretive centre in the country offering to work for free and I couldn’t get anywhere, but now it almost seems as if a job has been thrown at me. I got an email yesterday just asking if I was interested. Of course I felt like I had to say yes. I’ve been working and waiting for this opportunity for so long, how could I possibly turn it down now? Yes the details are a little awkward right now, and it’s super rushed ( I start Monday!) but it’s everything that I’ve ever wanted.

There’s a part of me that can’t help but wonder if this is all the work of fate? I mean, the dreaded ex said that he had checked out a year and a half ago, so why didn’t it fall apart, thus forcing em to move back to Ireland back then? Why now? It just seems like the perfect time for me to be at home right now. The heritage sector is booming, there are new jobs being posted everyday. I’ve kept an eye on the job scene the entire time that I’ve been abroad, and I can honestly say that this is the first time in 6 years that things have looked in any way positive.

If I had stayed with the ex, then I would have remained working ridiculous hours in a a job that was financially rewarding but didn’t fulfil me in any sort of intellectual or spiritual way. I was really only doing it because the money was so good and I knew that he was struggling with money stress. I didn’t enjoy that job at all. I mean, I could do it, because it was easy, but it bored me to tears, and those 5:30 am starts were starting to grind me down.

So I guess what I’m trying to say, in  very round about way, that your grandmother is right when she says, “What’s for ya won’t pass ya”, or whatever way your grandmother words it. Call it fate, call it predestination, or the will of God, or just a plain old coincidence, but I really do believe that everything in this life happens for a reason, and I’m finally starting to see what those reasons are.

Trans Siberian/ Mongolian Adventure Day 18-19: Beijing and The Great Wall

What can I say about Beijing?  It was very hot and  very busy. From the moment we stepped off the train and onto the platform, we were engulfed in a swarm of people, pushing and shoving to get to their destination just a fraction faster. It was a shock for the senses after the relative peace of the train. I was still riding a high of tranquillity from the yurt, so it took a beat for me to snap into Beijing mode, but by the end I would have shoved over a toddler to trip an elderly lady without giving it a second thought.  

First stop was a walk around the markets to get some lunch. I passed on the tourist trap scorpions that were still wriggling on a stick and went for some dumplings and fried tofu instead. I figured it was the safer bet. An afternoon stroll around the gardens of the Temple of Heaven was followed bt an enormous meal of Peking duck, the most delicious duck of all. 

The next morning we had an early start for our bus ride to The Great Wall.  As much as I complained when my alarm went off at 5am, I was delighted when we got there and practically had the place to ourselves. That kind of solitude is a rarity at any tourist attraction in China. The section of the wall that we arrived at was very new. In fact it was refurbished just in time for Michelle Obama’s visit a few years ago. 

To be honest, I wasn’t overly excited about The Great Wall. It’s not really something that was ever on my bucket list, but it was absolutely breath taking. Seeing this  incredible feat of human engineering roll over the hills in the distance was really impressive. Walking from tower to tower, the flat pathway evolved into a beast of steps that were almost of ladder-like qualities. As tough as the ascent was, it was coming back down from the vertigo inducing heights that I was really worried about. But we made it to the top in one piece. From there we had an amazing vantage point and we could even see the unrestored sections of the wall. My little archaeologist’s  heart skipped a beat to see the real ancient, crumbling wall that held off the Mongolian hordes. 

As a former luge instructor I had to take the tobogan ride down, but felt my old road rage rising as a girl in front kept braking. If it were possible to overtake then I would have run her off the track. No regrets. 

Once back in Beijing, it was a race against time to get to Tiananmen Square and The Forbidden City before they closed. Sadly, the square was closed off for a visit from Putin, hilariously I travelled across almost the entirety of Russia and only ended up in the same city as its leader when I got to China. By the time we got through all of the security checks and got shoved and pushed through the queue by locals, The Forbidden City was closed. None of us were all that disappointed, but I guess that’s down to the  fact that we were about to keel over from exhaustion. Besides, it has given me a reason to return to this crazy busy city in the East. 

The next day it was time to start the long journey home. After a lot of goodbyes I parted ways from my new friends and started to mentally prepare myself for the trip back, not only to Edinburgh,  but for my looming move home to Ireland.  

I am so incredibly thankful for this trip. It helped me in ways that I never expected and opened my eyes to the fact that I have a whole world out there to explore, something which I had lost sight of in the mire of an unhappy, unsupportive relationship. I know now that I am stronger than I had ever imagined. That I can take on the world, and I’m already planning the next adventure. 

Everest Base Camp anyone?

Trans Siberian/Mongolian Adventure Day 17: The Last Land Border.

Border crossings. I never really think much of them when I fly, but from now on I’m going to be a hell of a lot more appreciative of that line up at customs. Couple of stamps in the passport and you are done. When you cross borders, at least in this part of the world, by train, it’s a different story entirely. 

We left Ulaanbaator early in the morning with heavy hearts to be leaving this incredible country behind. The train was out fanciest one yet by far, and the cabin attendants were actually super friendly which was refreshing. We trundled along the tracks watching the landscape gradually change from city to rolling hills to the sand dunes and far off horizons of the Gobi Desert.  During a brief stop we all wanted to jump off the train to stretch out legs and soak up somr of that searing desert heat. Unfortunately the clear blue skies and glaring sunshine fooled us and it was in fact freezing!  Incredibly strong winds battered us with clouds of sand. Such stingy pain. Any inch of skin on show was attacked and we were sandblasted into submission. Back on the train it was. But hey, at least now I can say I’ve been to a desert!

A couple of hours later and the nightmare of the border crossing was about to begin. They locked the toilets at about 6pm and advised us that they wouldn’t be opened again until 1am. I have never been so dehydrated in my life. 

First of all we had the Mongolian customs people come through to mark us as departed. From that point we couldn’t leave the cabin. I guess a train acts as international waters. Kind of  made me feel like a pirate, which I am all about, obviously.  Then the cabins are searched and we move along down the track to go through the same ordeal with the Chinese customs staff. Sniffer dogs and bag searches insured, and then began the process of changing the tracks. The cabins were individually brought into a work shed where they were lifted into the air for the tracks to be switched over to the slimmer Chinese style ones. It was pretty impressive to see, and I wish that we could have seen it happen from the outside, not least because it was hotter than the ninth gate of hell in the cabin. Eventually a long night of suppressed bladder urges passed and I awoke in China,  dehydrated and cranky, but ready to explore the last stop on my incredible journey.  

Trans Siberian/Mongolian Adventure Days 13 – 16: Magnificent Mongolia

Mongolia has been the biggest surprise of this trip so far, by a long shot. 

I booked this adventure mostly because of my long lasting love for Russian history and literature. Mongolia and China were really just the side dishes. My God was I ever wrong. 

We arrived into Ulaanbaatar early in the morning after our border crossing escapades. Our local guide, a guy called Memo, met us at the station and took us straight to the hotel where we had some very welcome showers and a buffet breakfast. A brief orientation walk later and we were free to explore this bustling city. 

I guess that I really didn’t know what to expect from Mongolia’s capital city. It has this wonderful juxtaposition of the modern and traditional worlds. Skyscrapers are dotted around both the CBD and the city limits, most of which are apartment complexes, built to cope with the rapidly increasing population.  But then you also have traditional yurts in people’s gardens. I’m some cases these serve as a summer home, or as a cheap solution to the need for privacy when children marry and start families of their own. 

On that first day I walked for what felt like an eternity. I managed to squeeze in an exploratory visit of the winter palace and the Gandantegchinlen monastery. Both of these places provided a much needed respite from the busy streets, but my lungs were starting to suffer from the smog that caste a haze over the horizon. I at least managed to turn some prayer wheels and beg for guidance on what the he’ll I’m going to do with my rapidly changing life. Hopefully someone was listening. 

I was already really enjoying my time in Mongolia, but it was on day 2, when we ventured into the backcountry, that I really fell in love. 

I’ve seen wild open spaces before, mostly in Canada, but there was just something about the Mongolian countryside that captured my heart. Animals roam free and semi wild, followed on horseback by the farmers who depend on then them for a living. When one of the herd does, it is left in the open as food for the countless birds of prey that circle the skies. This makes for a lot of bones in the dirt. The same happens with people, as some of the people of Mongolia practice sky burials, where the remains of the deceased are laid out in the open air on a mountainside as a feast for the birds and any other creatures in need of a meal. Something about that really resonated with me. I’ve always loved the concept of all humanity, regardless of class, colour, or creed, being reduced to a meal for the worms in the end. 

We visited the monument of Chengus Khaan, and let me tell you, it redefines the word monumental.  He towers over the landscape, with his silver horse glinting in the sunlight. Nemo gave us a great explanation of the histohistory of Mongolian invasions in the adjoining museum. I could have happily stayed there all day, but we had our yurt camp to get to by lunch. 

The camp was the most serenely peaceful place that I think I’ve ever stayed in my life. The sky opened up above us in a striking blue as the sun beat down and the wind ruffled our travel weary feathers. We went for a hike to a meditation centre just over the mountain and let the peace and tranquillity was over us. By the time we got back to camp for dinner, I was so completely consumed by happiness that I thought my heart might burst. Do you ever have those moment when all of the bullshit and the background noise of daily life melts away, and all you’re left with is a sheer unadulterated joy? That’s how I felt as we sat down to our meal in the cosy yurt. The last time I remember feeling that way was when I lived in New Zealand  in 2010. It really made the whole, “everything happens for a reason” mentality hit home. I would never have enjoyed the trip as much if the ex had come with me. He would have just been so negative and would have shit all over everything that I enjoyed about it, but alone I was free to indulge in my elation. And a hefty amount of vodka. After all, I needed a chaser for the fermented mare’s milk! 

As morning broke, I realised that rural Mongolia had stolen my heart and enriched my soul. I felt as though a huge weight had been lifted from my shoulders, carried away by the fierce winds that tear through the valleys. We left for the city where we would spend one more night before another train took us across another border, but I could tell that I was definitely leaving a little part of myself behind in those wild hills of Mongolia.