With a fast two days off in a row, I wanted to take advantage and experience another place in Ireland. I spent 28 hours in Belfast, enough time to wander, meet new friends at a hostel, and step outside of my routine. I found that in December my days were consumed with work and establishing friendships. While I am grateful to have solidified some roots in Dublin and found a consistent routine, I intend to not allow another month like December pass me by.
Even the two-hour bus ride to Belfast provided a refresh of sorts for me, as I found myself engaged in a silent concert. To the unassuming fellow passenger that couldn’t see my earbuds in I might have looked a bit troubled or crazy. I was blasting music to myself and 
mouthed the words to the songs and completed this sensation with dancing in my seat. Glancing out the window there were hills, farms, livestock all placed perfectly atop green grass. I sat in anticipation of what this short holiday might bring.
Upon arrival, I set off exploring the city the way I knew best, with a vague idea in mind of where to go with minimal expectations of what I would find. Wandering through the streets the crisp Northern Ireland air met my skin. I found an indoor market, a giant blue fish statue, a clock tower, the sea, and a beautiful coffee shop. Later at the hostel I met a myriad of people in various stages of travel, from a lovely Australian who was in her 11th month away from home traveling in Europe, to a Swedish man living in Columbia who was on a short holiday to the UK. Each of us was brought together by chance, sharing a transient space, each with our own perspectives of the place we were in.
In Belfast, there is something in the air, something that is very different than the air in the Republic of Ireland. I also wonder if I am creating that difference because I am aware of a different country and the history of the place. Regardless, there remains a stark divide, between religions, mentality and historical precedent. Though I am in no real authority to discuss the complicated history that lives here. I wanted to take a black cab tour in which the divisions between the opposing forces are each given a platform to discuss their view on the issues. Two guides explain their perspective – Catholic, Irish, Nationalist and a Protestant, English, and Unionist. As I did not have the privilege to listen and absorb I feel I have a rather elementary understanding of the divisions between the population of people that live there.
At breakfast the following morning I met a fellow ex-pat on a trip around the UK before returning home to New Dehli. I invited him along with me to the botanic gardens, the first stop of my day, and spontaneously I found a companion for the remainder of the day. Over the course of the 9 hours I spent with this new friend we covered a wide array of topics from his religious identity as a Sikh, to cultural traditions within our respective counties to revisiting the mission statement I wrote for myself over the summer. “To authentically, creatively, and bravely learn, explore, and leave a positive impact through gratitude, compassion and zeal.” When I shared this sentence I wrote to guide me through my intentions it realigned within me what I am doing.
Having the space and distance from my newfound routine even for 28 hours provided a refreshing opportunity to revisit my intentions. I believe I am not unique in feeling relatively directionless. So perhaps when feeling this way, it is extremely important to check in with oneself, to revise intentions and the environment that you are immersed in. Traveling a short distance away provided me with that reset, and I found myself very grateful for the ability to pay a tenner to hop on a bus and cross the border with ease.
