Dear Northern Ireland

Dear Northern Ireland,

Dear County Down, especially Belfast, Holywood and Seahill,

dear people of calling this bit of the island home.

What a journey it has been.

I had the pleasure to spent 374 days here (with only one full day away to Dublin).

When everything was approved and I had only to chose the day to come and book a flight, my dad asked me if I am sure that I wanted to go to a place "full of terrorists". The only thing I knew about you was a tiny bit on the Troubles (at the time I thought I knew it all), and I had checked the local newspapers: a car crash leaving lots of damage and wounded people, a shooting had taken place, and some other negative things.

But I booked my flight anyway, arrived at the place which had taken me months to call and mean it "home" (seven months to be honest) and started discovering you. Through train and bus journeys, through music on the streets, at venues and monasteries, through exhibitions and speeches, through walking tours and information boards, through the city hall and libraries, daily walks along the beach, seeing your cities and towns and villages, the coast, your mountains- and most importantly through your people: strangers at events, strangers at cafes, strangers on the internet, eventually neighbours, colleagues and friends, and well a bit of family!

Even though the last steps of brexit were in the making, and a global pandemic changing our lives- you have been good to me (I am not going to sugarcoat it- I had also a lot of downs throughout the year).

But eventually, all kind of worked out.

When I left Scotland after living there for a year, I was very sad leaving a piece of my heart there. And it took me two years to go back and visit it.

With you it will be different: I am leaving a big piece of my heart there, and I hope i will see you soon again.

Cheers for the craic

and cheerio!

(written on my way to the airport in December 2020)