This past weekend, I spent Saint Patrick’s day in Galway, Ireland. In between late night bus rides from Dublin, complicated flights and several unexpected hail storms, I found myself feeling homesick for the first time since arriving in Rome.

It’s incredibly easy to find yourself swept up in the excitement of novelty. I have had the privilege of visiting a variety of different countries throughout the past few months, and after just recently reaching the halfway mark, I am recognizing how temporary this experience truly is. It’s not every weekend you get to tackle seeing an entirely new place in a mere 48 hours.

As I touched down in Dublin Airport on Friday night, familiarity seeped its way into every activity that weekend.

My family’s name being scattered throughout Galway City, my mom’s favorite cider, the general comfort of hearing an Irish accent and even a fair share of “Boston” signs, all provided bittersweet memories of home.

We spent the first day just exploring Galway City. Long rainy walks along the ocean, shopping for Claddagh rings and getting caught in our fair share of rain made for a packed day. 

I have now been in two countries that are participating in the Six Nation Rugby Tournament, which has made for some lively weekends. The Ireland vs. Scotland match occurring during our stay was no exception.

Braving the most aggressive wind I have ever felt, we trekked to the Cliffs of Moher. Luckily enough for us, the clouds ended up parting, offering intensely gorgeous and clear views. After such a wet and cold weekend, the peak felt nearly tropical.

I have absolutely loved living in a city as unique and packed as Rome, but the time spent in nature this weekend was immensely necessary. While we were always on the move, the trip itself served as a reminder to slow down and remember home.

I come from a very typical Irish Catholic family, and a good portion of my family specifically comes from Galway. My Nana has always talked with such adoration for Galway since I was a kid, and when the opportunity presented itself to spend Saint Patrick’s Day there, I couldn’t pass it up.

While abroad, I have had weekly family phone calls just as I would at Villanova. Because of the rush of every week, it was easy to forget how much I can miss home. More so, how those feelings of homesickness aren’t limited to the first night abroad.

I’m lucky enough to have a family that always takes me to and from airports, texts me when the plane lands and supports my desire to travel. I also recognize how rare this opportunity truly is, and that it was not one afforded to my parents.

Both of my parents have been working tirelessly their entire lives to provide these opportunities for my little sister and I, and they have never once expressed anything but pride in our ambitions. 

This past fall when I gave them less than two month’s notice of my plans of traveling to Cyprus, they drove the six hours to campus just to bring me my suitcase and see me off.

Almost every day, the time in which I’m able to text my dad is at 3 a.m. given the time difference and the time in which he heads into work. My mom balances my many questions and calls in the midst of her already intense schedule, and has done so for the entirety of my life.

Galway was a necessary reminder of just how lucky I am to have a family like my own, and how  fortunate I am to be having this experience. Next week, my parents are visiting me, and it will be my dad’s first time in Europe. I will be writing from Tuscany, Florence and around Rome before heading to France. 

Until next time,

Emma