Week three in Kinsale and things are looking up. Still no job, it’s
been raining and we’re suffering from a bit of cabin fever in our
tiny flat (you can walk it end to end in less than 15 steps), but the
computer came back intact and the Kinsale Autumn Flavors Food Fest has
begun, bringing with it a break from the eerie calm that is small town
life.
Well, first I want to address a couple of questions regarding the last entry: Yes, I know I’m a head case. No, we haven’t given up on Kinsale, yet. Although in likelihood, we will not stay in Kinsale very long, I can at least say that coming here was a worthwhile endeavor. After three full weeks of pounding the pavement and trying to sell web work to every B&B, restaurant, art gallery and shop in town, we are starting to realize that it just may not happen. We’ve spent a lot of time ruminating on Plan B. The thing about small town life, though, is that you don’t just take a job until something better comes along because quite frankly, there aren’t a lot of opportunities to begin with and you can pretty much see all of them in one fell swoop. And even if I wanted to commit to spending my days standing behind a hotel front desk in a scratchy polyester suit, it’s been made abundantly clear that the job would go to a local first.
Even with all that, I was shocked when Chris walked into the room the other day and declared, “You know what I really want to do? I want to go back to Chicago, get a job in the restaurant industry and eventually buy a house in Harbor Country.” Who would have guessed that after all of this thinking, his ideal plan would be to pursue the roots, career and goals I had just given up for him? Don’t get me wrong, I love my husband dearly and would follow him to the ends of the earth, but, well, let's just say that the irony was not lost on me. Now that I’m over that, we still make daily efforts to sell work, but considering we’re running through our funds and have not even made any friends, unless we get a project soon, it is likely that we will leave here in mid-November and head for the warmer climes of Spain before returning to Chicago.
So why am I so cheerful about all of this? Because after many months of witnessing Chris’ quarter-life crisis, he seems genuinely excited for the future and has even gotten a stint working (sans pay) in the kitchen of one of the local restaurants. Plus this trip has satisfied a long seeded curiosity about moving to a small town and living in Europe. It also gave me a chance to pay Chris back for the patience and support he lent me during the whole Shindig effort. Now I understand what it was I was supposed to get out of this adventure and because I truly believe that it’s better to take the risk then to always wonder “what if”, I feel really relieved and much more relaxed and can actually have a little fun.
We’ve tried to spend less time agonizing about our purpose here and have come to take advantage of the breaks in the rainy weather. Last week we rented bikes and rode over the bridge to the Castlepark Marina for lunch and then stumbled upon a tiny hidden beach where we saw seals diving for fish. Then we rode to the neighboring town of Sandy Cove where Chris braved chilly weather and even chillier waves as he swam the waters of the bay.
Today we walked around Compass Hill, a little suburb right outside of town to see the magnificent homes and the great views of the harbor. Many of the homes on Compass Hill are vacation retreats for Brits, a handful of the Irish and other rich foreigners and it made us a little more sympathetic as to why the locals with their modest salaries, might come to resent the “settlement” of foreigners in Kinsale. It is sad to see that the most beautiful homes and views in town are not owned by the people who were born and breed here, but by outsiders who have come here to raze and develop their land. Even the most scenic area in town, the Old Head of Kinsale, with its unique terrain and amazing coastal views, is now a private golf club with access to members only. It is believed, with good reason then, that no matter how much money you spend or how often you visit the town, you earn the distinction of being a local only after burying your parents in Kinsale soil.
Well, that’s all for the time being. We’re off to dinner. I will write about the food fest once it’s over. In the meanwhile, wish Chris good luck with his first day in the kitchen Saturday night and enjoy the pictures from our bike ride and walk around Compass Hill. Cheers!
P.S. We received a nice email yesterday from a California couple who stumbled upon our site while planning their own ramble. If you’re reading this guys, good luck on your adventure!