Dear Dublin,

This is a tough one to write! How are ye keepin’? I still remember the rainy August afternoon in 2014 when I landed, jet-lagged from my first fifteen-hour journey. How can I forget the warmth and kindness that your people showed me during my initial days in a strange country, which was never visited by anyone even in my extended family back home? I still remember my first hike at picturesque locations of Howth, Dún Laoghaire and Killiney hill; my first kayaking in Liffey, overlooking you from a different perspective and yeah! my first pint of Guinness, which tastes best in its home.

In the past two years, I’ve learnt a lot about you. The differences between ‘North Side’ and ‘South Side’, and how it dissipates during GAA at Croke Park, the cacophony in your centre and busking on Grafton Street- that I loved to hate when I had to rush through. It was in you where I had the most interesting and meaningful conversations with taxi drivers.

Grafton Street at Christmas, Dublin 2

I’ll dearly miss the Teddys’ on a sunny day and walks along the Dún Laoghaire pier. I’ll miss how my boat shoes split climbing up the Obelisk in Killiney, but compensated with the view I got from the top, mesmerising.

Dún Laoghaire

The Killiney Obelisk

I embraced pacing aimlessly over the quays eating my drooling burrito, straight from Boojum and the random thoughts that raced my mind. Each time I walked by, I discovered something new, but I never got to see your iconic Samuel Beckett bridge in motion. The sunsets at the quays were the best moments ever, Carpe Diem.