Musings for the (X)-Masses
Exactly one year ago I threw a big farewell party in Ghent, Belgium. I've been here for a year now... So what about Ireland? What about Belgium? What about anything?
Pff, I don't know really. I always get kinda depressed before going back home. Mostly the day before. I always go out and get absolutely locked, which doesn't make for comfortable flying, but usually the headache is so bad, it takes the focus of the depression. But after spending about half a day in Belgium (Charleroi and Bruxelles-Midi that is), I can't wait to get back to the Emerald Isle.
Everything is so much better there. I mean: the people are actually nice there, the beer's great, the food is good, there's music and good books and comedy and the Irish craic is all people ever told you it was.
So you're guessing that the same routine will just be played out again: depression kicking in a day before flying home and once I'm there the longing to get the hell out of there will take over...
I'm not so sure actually. I'm actually depressed three weeks beforehand. Of course the whole "It's-the-season-to-be-jolly-now-fuck-off-I-saw-that-Christmastree-first-ya-poxy-cunt"-thing doesn't really help. But I feel the problem might be deeper-rooted.
Don't get me wrong: Ireland is great. I mean the country: stunning coastlines, mountains, loughs, peninsulas, Celtic crosses, passage tombs... I mean the people: open, friendly, warm (and goodlooking).
Unfortunately, Ireland, the society, sucks. The beer and the food is ridiculously expensive, the music and books and comedy are mostly British or American and in most pubs in Dublin the craic is fake. There's no public transport, there's no social security. Property is just unaffordable. Most of the stunning coastlines, mountains, loughs, peninsulas are being maimed by weekend houses, a good part of the people are openly racist, violent or homeless (or a combination of those). The goodlooking ones are bitches (but then, that's the same in Belgium isn't it?)
So do I want to move back to Belgium? Dunno.
It's just that after a year the hard reality kicks in: there's no escaping from the metro-boulot-dodo mantra of life (although these days of course it's metro-boulot-cado-dodo). Ireland may be a more majestic background to the movie of life, most of the actors don't even notice it anymore. And although I gladly trade in my 'thirteenth month' for a nice bit of nature, there's another thing that Ireland lacks: Daf, Tantje, Grobelny, Gros Lolo, Kakeir (and their respective squaws), X-man, Emma, Mieleke, Manou, Ieuwke, Mitte, Charisa, Elise, Oen, Dietn, Eleve Wiebresjt, Eleve Vandevoorde,Tutte, Walloys, Peetn en Hans, Irmine (and her betterhalf), Fretn and his chicken, Trieniepienie and Vanacker.*
So I suggest you start writing me some nice X-mas and New Yearswishes to get me over this. I, for one, am gonna fight this depression the way I've always done...
"Oi mate, another Black Bush, no ice!"
*If you feel left out: bugger off, I've obviously forgotten about you!
Exactly one year ago I threw a big farewell party in Ghent, Belgium. I've been here for a year now... So what about Ireland? What about Belgium? What about anything?
Pff, I don't know really. I always get kinda depressed before going back home. Mostly the day before. I always go out and get absolutely locked, which doesn't make for comfortable flying, but usually the headache is so bad, it takes the focus of the depression. But after spending about half a day in Belgium (Charleroi and Bruxelles-Midi that is), I can't wait to get back to the Emerald Isle.
Everything is so much better there. I mean: the people are actually nice there, the beer's great, the food is good, there's music and good books and comedy and the Irish craic is all people ever told you it was.
So you're guessing that the same routine will just be played out again: depression kicking in a day before flying home and once I'm there the longing to get the hell out of there will take over...
I'm not so sure actually. I'm actually depressed three weeks beforehand. Of course the whole "It's-the-season-to-be-jolly-now-fuck-off-I-saw-that-Christmastree-first-ya-poxy-cunt"-thing doesn't really help. But I feel the problem might be deeper-rooted.
Don't get me wrong: Ireland is great. I mean the country: stunning coastlines, mountains, loughs, peninsulas, Celtic crosses, passage tombs... I mean the people: open, friendly, warm (and goodlooking).
Unfortunately, Ireland, the society, sucks. The beer and the food is ridiculously expensive, the music and books and comedy are mostly British or American and in most pubs in Dublin the craic is fake. There's no public transport, there's no social security. Property is just unaffordable. Most of the stunning coastlines, mountains, loughs, peninsulas are being maimed by weekend houses, a good part of the people are openly racist, violent or homeless (or a combination of those). The goodlooking ones are bitches (but then, that's the same in Belgium isn't it?)
So do I want to move back to Belgium? Dunno.
It's just that after a year the hard reality kicks in: there's no escaping from the metro-boulot-dodo mantra of life (although these days of course it's metro-boulot-cado-dodo). Ireland may be a more majestic background to the movie of life, most of the actors don't even notice it anymore. And although I gladly trade in my 'thirteenth month' for a nice bit of nature, there's another thing that Ireland lacks: Daf, Tantje, Grobelny, Gros Lolo, Kakeir (and their respective squaws), X-man, Emma, Mieleke, Manou, Ieuwke, Mitte, Charisa, Elise, Oen, Dietn, Eleve Wiebresjt, Eleve Vandevoorde,Tutte, Walloys, Peetn en Hans, Irmine (and her betterhalf), Fretn and his chicken, Trieniepienie and Vanacker.*
So I suggest you start writing me some nice X-mas and New Yearswishes to get me over this. I, for one, am gonna fight this depression the way I've always done...
"Oi mate, another Black Bush, no ice!"
*If you feel left out: bugger off, I've obviously forgotten about you!
