“Wait, is Ireland Not Part of the United Kingdom?”
The question above was asked of me halfway through a conversation on a student night out. When discussing potential international trips next year, I suggested the crowd could make the journey across the Irish Sea. “Wait, is Ireland not part of the United Kingdom?” The question was not malicious, but it did fall in line with a consistent pattern I noticed throughout my year in London. In Ireland, Irish identity is nearly built into the walls. It exists through accents, humour, sports, politics and history, all so embedded in everyday life that they become almost invisible. Abroad, however, even as close as London, this awareness is not present. Within weeks of moving abroad, I found myself answering basic questions about Ireland. From discussing the North / South divide and blundering my way through an explanation of the Modh Choinníollach, leaving home, in some ways, made me more aware of the intricate nature of it.
I quickly learned that one of the strangest parts about living abroad is how quickly you become a representative of your country. At home, I may be just another Irish student, but in London, I quickly became the “Irish one”. From trivial matters such as people struggling with some of my phrases, to a more distressing ignorance of Irish history, in many ways I found myself stepping into the sometimes enjoyable, sometimes tiring, role of “de facto ambassador” for Ireland, constantly discussing Irish history, culture and politics.
There is a unique irony to living in a city which is physically so close to home, yet culturally, a world away in its blind spots. In London, you are constantly reminded of home through shared street names, architecture and statues, yet you quickly realise that the historical memory is entirely one-sided. To my British peers, the relationship between our countries is a footnote, rarely discussed in history classes and truly inconsequential, but to me, it was in many ways the context for my entire identity. Navigating and understanding this gap was often frustrating, and required patience that I did not know I had.
As a city, London intensifies this feeling. The city truly appears to be a never-ending array of beautiful streets, a dizzying mix of vibrant cultures, and beautiful buildings. My first few weeks were treated as something like a checklist; I visited Notting Hill, Soho, Covent Garden and survived the Tube at rush hour. Eventually, however, the tube becomes an annoyance, central London becomes far too expensive, and the skyline no longer wows. While the city remains fantastic in its vibrancy and design, like everything in life, the novelty eventually fades, and it too becomes normal.
In this normality, comparisons can begin. In my experience, London is a city full of people with restless ambition, constantly looking for opportunities to further their lives in both a professional and personal sense. This ambition is certainly not unique to London; it exists in full force in Dublin as well. There does exist, however, a difference in approach. Where there is outward pride in achievements in London, as people speak openly about careers and success, in Ireland, success is often softened with humour or self-deprecation. Neither approach can categorically be described as correct, I personally am drawn to the diversity and opportunities of London whilst also missing the comfort and character of home. The approaches reveal a sort of comfort in the familiarity of home, compared to the desire to move beyond what you already know in London.
I experienced this desire for familiarity in a way I truly did not expect. An Irish accent on the tube suddenly became grounding. What truly surprised me, however, was my newfound love of Irish pubs. I typically avoid them like the plague, but in London, spots like The Sheephaven Bay in Camden became hubs of comfort after a long week. At home, bumping into someone on a night out barely constitutes more than a head nod, but in London, it has routinely led me to a twenty-minute conversation about places I’ve never visited. My time in London has revealed to me not only my own patriotism but also the relevance and continued importance of Irish culture abroad. Irish historical migration has resulted in a diaspora of over 70 million people worldwide, and thousands of young Irish people continue to migrate in search of opportunity, independence or experience, and in many ways, we are participating in a much older story.
Now, as my year abroad comes to an end and I prepare to return to the Emerald Isle, I reflect on that question in the pub. What stayed with me was not the ignorance behind the question, but rather my own reaction to it. It is a reaction cultivated by years of history and pride, and it reminded me of the millions of Irish migrants throughout time who have clung to this identity after moving abroad. My time in London has made my Irish identity feel visible in a way it hasn’t before. I’ve explained things I haven’t thought about before, and distance has deeply sharpened what I’ve taken for granted. They say absence makes the heart grow fonder, and sometimes you have to move away, take a step back, or cross the sea from familiarity in order to recognise its shape.
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