Finding Joy in the Unexpected: My Irish Escapade and the Key to a Joyful Life
By: Lily Maciejewski
Lifestyle adjustment is hard as a young adult just graduated from Hillsdale. As I sit at my desk, I look back at the simple joys that I experienced in college. I am currently a middle school Social Studies teacher, working at an inner city Boston Catholic school. I am severely underpaid, working at a tough school, and trying to keep my head above water amidst the numerous transitions that life has heaped upon me. Then I look back at college, at my time abroad, and I take a deep breath, remembering that even through struggles, I will always have memories.
One of the greatest joys I have experienced was my time in Ireland. I traveled there during a spring semester abroad in Austria. My friends and I, fresh transplants from America, had a four-day weekend coming up. Being avid fans of the band, “The Backseat Lovers,” we noticed that they were going to be playing in Ireland during the long-awaited four-day weekend. I had almost no desire to go to Ireland. I mean, it sounded like a cool place, but why would I want to go to this random country when I could go to France, or England, or Spain? However, I eventually decided to go with the crowd. “The Backseat Lovers” is one of my favorite bands, and I marveled over the chance to see them in a different country. Little did I know, this trip would be one of the best trips of my life.
It was Thursday night when my friends and I made our way from Gaming, the small Austrian village in which we were studying, and made the long trek to the airport. We got into Dublin around midnight. We hailed a cab and made our way over to the Airbnb, marveling at the fact that the steering wheel was on the wrong side of the car. As we made it to our Airbnb, an old, grubby apartment building, we soon realized that we were going to be separated into different rooms and had to bunk with complete strangers who were already asleep. Just because it was a great trip didn’t mean that it had a great start. I spent most of that night clutching my phone and the small pouch that held my valuables, passport, debit card, euros—you name it. Thankfully, I woke up to find none of my possessions stolen. Most of the guests had already left the room.
I met up with two of my friends, and we started making our way into the city. I soon fell in love with Dublin and the simple joys that it emanated: the peaceful park, the record/book/really-cool-and-awesome-hidden-gem shops, a Catholic church with a beautiful statue of the Pieta sitting outside. It made me realize that simple joys can be found even in the unexpected.
The next day, we took a trip over to the Cliffs of Moher in Doolin—one of the prettiest sights that I have ever seen. However, the highlight of this little side venture was found in the small town of Doolin itself. We stayed at this quaint house called the Rainbow Hostel, sitting amidst peaceful rolling fields. The American owner of the hostel greeted us adventurers and told us about the “musical magic” of Doolin. He told us how it was one of the music capitals of the world, whatever that means.
We soon found out what that meant when we started pub-hopping that night. Since it was a Friday in Lent, we first stopped at a pub that sold fish and chips. As we were eating in this packed pub, we noticed a lot of well-dressed people around our age. The pub in question, in the middle-of-nowhere Doolin, soon started to become a nightclub. It was all a celebration for an 18th birthday. Of course, we had to crash the party, so all my friends and I went up to dance and, like one of my travel-mates loves to say, “we became the center and hype of the dance floor.” Later, we kept on hopping over to different pubs. The next pub we went to was also packed to the brim but this time with a lot of people in their thirties. We found the live music in a corner of the room. In that corner, there were three guys playing some of the coolest instruments I have ever seen. We made our way around the crowded pub all the way up to the musicians themselves. One of my friends even talked to a musician during their break.
When these musicians finished their set, we went to our final pub of the night, a very peaceful pub with people ranging from forty to sixty years old. This pub also had live music: a violinist, an accordion player, a guitar player, and a singer. Sitting at their table, they created such beautiful music. I became entranced with the peaceful setting, even though I was only able to make it for a few more songs. I remember my travel-mate and I, Sophia, got Jameson whiskey, sat back, and enjoyed the music. One of my other travel-mates, Vinny, talked to a group of people in their early to mid-forties. One of them was celebrating their birthday that night. We all waited until midnight then wished this woman a happy birthday. My friends and I then walked back to our hostel, listened to music outside, danced, and looked at the stars.
Coming off from the high of that trip, and the various other escapades I went on, I was left with the question “what now?” How do I readjust to the normalcy and dreariness of everyday life? How can Hillsdale compare to this magnificent trip? What do I take away from my travels?
After much contemplation, I realized that it was not the foreignness or beauty or the history of Ireland that made it so grand. It was what people did with it and the joy they found in each other. The people of Ireland sing, drink, and enjoy life. They notice the people around them and relish them. The pubs did not place their musicians on a big stage with lights, microphones, and speakers. They hid them amidst the people.
It is through this sort of community that a person is made whole—through this simple joy of just being with one another. Instead of useless and constant introspection, I need to look around me. It does not matter so much what a big fancy, jet setting life would look like. What do I do for others? How do I contribute to others’ simple joys?
This is how to live life: not asking, “how I can make myself happy?” Rather, how can I bring joy to my friends? On a freezing day with a foot of snow in the middle-of-nowhere Michigan, how can I appreciate the people around me and feel gratitude for the professors who do so much for me? When I am fed up with teaching and the daily stresses of adult life, how can I instead be there for my housemates and enjoy young adult life with them? This is my key to leading a joyful life.
Lily Maciejewski | ‘24
Lily is originally from Detroit, Michigan.She majored in History at Hillsdale and now teaches Middle School Social Studies at a Catholic school in Boston.
