In Love With A City

This post was originally going to follow up my "Stepping Outside of Dublin", however I thought that since today marks 3 years since my last departure for Dublin, I would share with you some reasons why, if a person could marry a city, I'd marry Dublin.

"When I Die..." by Steve Simpson

I would say that my love of the city is to the level where your heart feels so much love that it could possibly burst. It's actually not just an emotion, but a physical feeling of my heart almost bursting open (sometimes I feel this way about a person, mostly it's about this city). Dublin has such a pull on my heartstrings that once, when a friend of mine living in Dublin posted a Vimeo of sweeping scenes of the city, I ACTUALLY CRIED (sometimes this also happens when I just think about Dublin too much). Is this normal? I really don't think so. 

I love that the city feels small. That one-third of Ireland's population calls Dublin home and yet it doesn't feel too big is amazing. That Grafton Street at night is empty except for cleaners and students making their way to McDonald's from the pubs. That a bus driver will give you explicit directions on how to get to the Dublin Zoo from where he drops you off and will point the opposite way when you start off in the wrong direction. Or that a group of teenage girls will walk you to the Jervis when you have no idea what they're saying. That you can walk home down the N11 from the pub at 3 am and only be concerned about the conversation you're having.

I'm not sure what draws me in so much, what makes my heart yearn for a place as much as it does. The smells of Irish Breakfast, of the freshly fallen rain, or the sea air in Howth. The images of a bustling city street, the serenity of St. Stephen's Green, or the patchwork hills in the distance. Everything combines together into feeling content, which may be the best thing to feel. Regardless, in the words of James Joyce: "When I die, Dublin will be written in my heart."