Last June, I made the decision to take myself out of the city and head back to the bright lights – no, sorry, the dark skies – of North Mayo. Any regrets, you ask? No, not a single one. But adjustment does takes time and it continues to be a learning curve.
I wrote last year, just six weeks after getting back – about seven things I’d learned since returning west, and here are some more life lessons I’ve learned about relocating back to the country in the past nine months.
Being brave (or foolhardy) pays off. Phew!
So yes, it’s all worked out so far. I moved back west jobless, on a wing and a prayer, to a town which despite not having benefited as much from the boom as other places, was nevertheless hit hard. My fortnightly column for the Mayo News and some news reporting was one of my only – and very welcome – sources of income. That, and a few quid I’d put aside for a rainy day. As it happened, it lashed rain for most of the summer. But by the end of it I’d managed to secure enough freelance work to keep me fed and watered, and by September I was about to start an exciting full-time role in a new and challenging environment.
It wasn’t easy – I had to put myself out there, something that doesn’t come naturally, but it has come together relatively well so far, and I feel very lucky that it has.
Taking time out is good for the soul
When I first moved, I was lucky enough to be in a position where I could take a little bit of time out and not work full time (which is quite convenient when you don’t have any work anyway). I used that time to rest, relax and reconnect with my area again. I behaved like a tourist, walked the streets of my town and the surrounding towns and got to know them again, while rekindling old friendships and acquaintances that had fallen a little by the wayside. Sometimes I got up before 11am. And I visited places in the county I’d never visited before.
Like returning to an old love, it felt familiar and exciting all at once, and the relationship remains solid to this day. And it meant I could take on a fresh start with a bit of energy.
Taking time out and gatecrashing this guy’s party on Clare Island
Trying to get stuff done? Forget about email
The single biggest source of frustration in my daily life is the reluctance of people to reply to emails. First world problems ahoy! I don’t understand it, but then, writing is my thing and it’s not everyone else’s. However, memo to the people of Mayo, email was designed as a two-way communication tool, y’know?
Here, if you want to talk to someone, you just have to pick up the phone or doorstep them – it might take seven times longer, but it’s the only way to get stuff done. But I suppose personal interaction isn’t all bad either and maybe I should just be a bit less odd.
Positivity breeds positivity
In a mid-sized town, particularly one that has been ravaged by the recession, there will always be a certain amount of negativity. Whether grievances are genuine, or whether it’s hearing criticism of the efforts of other groups or individuals from those who have never volunteering their own time or knowledge, or whether it’s an unwillingness to move past old or perceived slights to collaborate and co-operate for the greater good, there is plenty of it about and it can be frustrating. But that’s life and you’ll never please everyone.
However, there is also a heap of really good stuff and fresh thinking happening – be it in enterprise, tourism, agriculture, hospitality, or festivals and events, people are recognising the need to work together and be creative. Volunteerism is strong. People love dressing up in mad costumes for stuff. And the more people give up their time to make their area a better place, the more it inspires enthusiasm and pride in others.
Returning to the city is a shock to the system
Perhaps it’s the country girl in me, and I’m a bit mortified to admit this but on the rare occasions I need to return to Dublin, the frantic pace of city life comes as a jolt. Drivers drive harder and faster, walkers don’t dawdle, there’s more stress in the air. It’s actually embarrassing, but I quickly feel claustrophobic, and getting back out is a relief.
But that said, when you’re in the mood for a nice meal somewhere new or a lively gig or a late bar or an excellent Thai takeaway – that’s when you realise that Supermac’s doesn’t quite cut it and you start to miss city life. Pros and cons, eh?
Everyone knows your business, but it’s not all bad
One of the downsides of moving back to a small town and trying to participate in the community is that you will be talked about. Now, not being talked about is much worse, but I have at various stages been mildly alarmed by people I barely know being able to tell me my (exact) address, where I work, who I have had a quiet drink with the week before, and what political party I am apparently about to join (spoiler: I am not joining any political party).
That said, you will always have people – like your neighbours – looking out for you and in the event that you die, it is unlikely you will be left alone long enough for your cats to eat you, so on balance I think I will take that.
People are doing it for themselves
There is a very real sense in the West of Ireland that they have been left behind over the past few years, and that decision-makers in Dublin are living in a bubble when it comes to acknowledging the reality and the challenges of rural life. In recent times, exasperated at the lack of assistance from on high, locals are just getting on with it and making stuff happen. Working hard, defiantly (but not foolishly) taking risks, rallying their communities and walking the walk themselves with little support from the banks, it is they who will be responsible for preserving rural communities.
A recent surprise arrival to Belleek Woods. At his size, I won’t argue
Making new friends in your thirties is not as hard as you’d think
One of my biggest reservations about leaving Dublin was the small social circle I would have. Aside from my family, I had a tiny handful of close friends in Ballina, one of whom proved a lifesaver by renting me a room in her house for the summer, instantly making me feel at home all over again (thanks Nic!) and saving both my parents and myself the indignity of dealing with an adult child who was likely to regress to teenage behaviour in the home house. I learned that the only way to meet new people is to be open to trying new things.
I am an unlikely and uncommitted sportsperson, but I joined the running, cycling and swimming clubs, and while my interest in partaking in sport will never be fanatical or consistent, it worked, and I felt good for it. As a bonus, I now have another small handful of new and delightfully mad people in my life that I feel privileged and proud to call friends. Result!
Romance is like everything else – if you’re looking, you’ll find it eventually
I’m including this because I’ve been asked about it surprisingly often by both male and female friends who are single and considering leaving the city. Before I moved home, I was warned by a dear friend (who shall remain nameless) that whatever chance you have of finding a partner in the city, the chances of it happening in a mid-sized town in your thirties are minimal. And let’s face it, that’s probably correct – the odds, numerically speaking, are not in your favour. But that said, it’s not a dating wasteland either.
I’ve always felt that love and romance can crop up in the most surprising of places, and probably when and where you’re least expecting it, so I’d recommend just going with the flow on that one. Getting off the couch helps, too. Failing that, just go on tour …
Again, this place is bloody gorgeous
I know, I said it last time. And to those of you familiar with the area, it won’t be news. But there’s rarely a week that this place doesn’t cause me to catch my breath and remember how lucky I am. I’m about to start my dream job, marketing, promoting and developing the region, and to say that I am excited is an understatement. And yet, while I want to share the loveliness with the world, there are places I secretly want to keep under wraps such as the below beach (no, I am not telling you where it is.)
Somewhere secret in North Mayo
So in a nutshell, life is good. It’s cheap to live here, the quality of life is excellent, and while there are certain irritants and disadvantages, the positives far outweigh the negatives.
If you’re thinking of making a similar move, I certainly won’t be the one discouraging you. But don’t get a cat. Just in case.