Post Travel Depression.

It’s a real thing.

The excitement of discovering a different city, a different culture, different sites and different daily activities to being back in real life and facing real responsibilities. As soon as I stepped off the plane in Kansas City, I already had a to-do list ready for the upcoming days—pack up for school, update resume, look for jobs, contact this person, contact that person, etc.

Unsurprisingly, I miss being in Ireland.

I miss waking up to check my Dublin Bus App to make sure Bus 27 would be on time to Connolly Station, Amiens Street, Stop 4415. I miss trying different coffee shops, trying to discover the perfect latte and finally settling on the Wooden Whisk on Talbot Street. I miss turning the corner from our accommodation to see the Spire shining tall in the sky and wondering if it really is the "tallest sculpture in the world" that I heard from word of mouth, but never Googling to actually find the truth. (Update: it’s not!) I miss waiting for the bus with my coffee in hand and people watching. I miss the game of “Will I Fall Today On the Bus When the Bus Driver Peels Away or Not?” I miss seeing the Wicklow Mountains as Bus 27 lurched for a stop at Bancroft to finally arrive at my internship. I miss being greeted by the nicest coworkers I will probably ever have as soon as I stepped in the office. I miss being offered a scone—internally debating if it was rude to have someone buy me a scone or rude to deny the offer. I miss being taught by my coworker, Gugu, about accounting and how to be a hard working employee. I miss doing the work that was teaching me more about my career path. I miss leaving the accounting firm, only to be looking forward to the next day. I miss getting back on Bus 27 around 4 p.m. to plan the evening activities of exploring new places in the city. (I don’t miss the strange smells that accumulate on the bus around that time, however.) I miss Ireland entirely, even the smallest things.

While every day might’ve not been brilliant, it was never bad. The high of being somewhere new, doing something new never wore off in the eight weeks of being there. I was just happy to be where I was, experiencing the world.

Now that I’m home, it feels weird being nearly secluded in the country with so much space, when I have been used to seeing thousands of people wandering around Dublin every day. I’m still trying to gain back my driving skills because apparently, I forgot in that amount of time. Also, because of not being able to get free drink refills at restaurants, I have acquired this skill of apportioning my drink intake to my meal size and now, I’m overwhelmed by having limitless Dr. Pepper refills while I eat. I’ve only been home for three days and I’ve realized many of my actions and habits have changed from being in Ireland. It may have been a short time there, but it influenced me more than I imagined.

I absolutely love where I live and I love being home, but there are pieces of every travel experience I wish I could bring with me. It is such a depressing realization that the two months of Ireland and other parts of Europe are over. There are only a few pictures and a lot of memories left behind. The feeling of traveling is an incredible one and I hate when it’s over, but I guess there is a solution: to plan another trip.