Josie Dent

From left to right: Anuja, Abhijeet, Jakob

This is part two of a travel column that will be updated by Simmons students studying abroad. Josie Dent, the Arts and Entertainment Editor of the Voice, is studying abroad in Galway, Ireland, for the full 2024-25 academic year. Please check back for further updates in this column from study abroad students.

A week before I flew out, I went to work for the last time. I pretended like it wasn’t my last day. I chatted with regulars, answered the phone, and wrote weird messages out on sticky notes for my coworkers to find.

That same night, my coworkers and I went out for dinner. As we’re waiting for our table, my beloved coworker, my Andrea, wrapped her arms around me and squeezed. 

“Don’t go, Josie!” she pleaded, and I nearly canceled my tickets on the spot. 

After driving home, I sat in my car and watched the stars with tinny music playing from my phone.

The denial I had about leaving began to fade, leaving with it an eerie feeling of utter loneliness. Ireland seemed too far away to be scared of it, but there was no more pretending I’d be seeing my friends anymore. 

I left on September 2. Somehow, I kept it together when I said goodbye to my dogs, Millie and Nico, before heading to the airport. I only got misty-eyed when I hugged my parents goodbye outside of the security line. 

On paper, my route was easy enough. I flew out from Portland International Airport. After a four hour plane ride to Chicago O’Hare, I had a 55-minute layover before flying to Shannon Airport. From there, I would head through customs and immigration and take a bus to Eyre Square in Galway. Then, I would have to hail a taxi to take me to the university where I could check in and try not to fall asleep. I was supposed to land in Ireland at 11:30 p.m. PST (that’s 2:30 EST for you Boston folks), which is 7:30 a.m. Ireland time. 

What if my luggage is lost?

This was particularly frightening because, due to a lack of space, I had to put my baby blanket and my stuffed dog, Tycho, in my checked bags. They were the only things holding me together. 

What if I miss my second flight?

What if Ireland immigration denies me because I don’t have a return flight?

What if all the information I’ve been told and found online is wrong and I do need a visa to get into the country?

What if I take the wrong bus? 

(None of the above happened, if you’re worried. The author is writing this from the comfort of her apartment in Ireland, with Tycho tucked safely into bed.) 

Actually, my early anxieties were nothing compared to the pure despair I felt after landing. I held myself together until it hit me that because of the time difference, all my friends and family were asleep. I had no one to call. On the bus, I rested my head against the window and kept my sniffling quiet.

I’ll get into the self-indulgent details in a moment, but my day went a little something like this: 

• Land in Ireland 
• Cry
• Get on the bus to Galway 
• Cry 
• Get off the bus in Galway!
• Freak out because I can’t find a taxi
• Find a taxi!
• Get to the university and check-in!
• Unpack
• Cry
• Go shopping and then meet my roommates!
• Cry
• Take a nap
• Cry 

Get a load of this girl, am I right? I mean, who let her out in public? 

When you open the door to my apartment, you’re greeted with a long, narrow hallway with sterile walls. About three doors line each wall. My room is the second to the left. It’s tiny, with a grungy comforter insert folded on the twin-size bed. I do have my own bathroom, though. There’s about enough room for me to spin around with my arms folded across my body like a mummy. 

I dumped my bags on the floor and plopped down. My entire body was slick with sweat. I could smell my own stink, which is never a good sign. I was so tired, my head was spinning.

I don’t think I’m great at expressing feelings through writing. How can I make the reader feel what I felt in my moment of deepest need? Any attempt will use far too many words. 

I felt sick to my stomach with dread. I was so stupid. Why would I go so far from home for so long? I couldn’t even go back for winter break. 

All I wanted was a hug from my mom, and I couldn’t even talk to her. 

I made myself unpack everything before I went to bed. I was missing a few things- notably, a duvet cover for the insert. It was hot in my room. I could hear my roommates, who I hadn’t met yet, talking in the common area, but I was far too scared to introduce myself. After unpacking, I walked to the university’s store, where I picked up some measly groceries: a box of grapes, microwave rice, sliced bread, and a cucumber. 

When I returned back to the kitchen-living room combo, two people were seated at the table: A tall man and a woman with curly brown hair. I was introduced to the woman, first: Her name is Giulia, and she’s from Italy. The man, Jakob, is from Germany. I found out that they’re both graduate students, and that we have a third roommate, also from the States, named Cat. 

Leaving the kitchen and going back to my room, I replayed the interaction in my mind. God, I was so awkward. And so sweaty. And so weird! They’re so much older- there’s no way they’ll ever want to talk to me again. I returned to my room, wrapped myself up in my bare comforter and took a nap. I didn’t feel better when I woke up. If anything, the despair had gotten worse. 

Oh, the horrors!!

Despite the nerves in my stomach, I could tell I was hungry. I headed to the kitchen to eat, where I found Giulia sitting. She talked to me. Actually, really, talked to me. Even more surprising, she invited me to trivia at the university’s pub with her and Jakob. 

I had been planning to spend the evening alone in my room. Crying, most likely. 

Giulia and I chatted until Jakob came in and we all headed to trivia. I have fun. It was awkward at points when we met new people, lapsing into slightly uncomfortable silences as we all figured out how to break them, but it’s still fun. When I walked back with Jakob and Giulia at the end of the night, I was happy. I enjoyed our conversation, carried on by the night breeze. I just felt an overwhelming sense of calm. Like maybe everything might be okay. 

While we were gone, another roommate moved in. Anuja, from India. The next day, Abhijeet, also from India, unpacked his bags. The next few weeks, we all bustle around each other in the kitchen, tossing jokes back and forth and sharing recipes. 

Every night, I look forward to sitting around the dinner table, hearing of everyone’s adventures or enjoying quiet company. 

Every night, I get to come home.