Admittedly, I started writing this at a moment of heightened emotion. I rushed to salsa class in the rain. The bus took forever to change drivers, so I got off and walked the rest of the way. The instructor was new and confused. After class, I walked to the bus stop and got absolutely soaked. The bus was stuffy and full of people who seemed just as overstimulated and upset as I was.

On days like these, I wonder what I am suffering for. I left my country because I didn’t see a future there. I am also forced to confront the fact that I’ve been struggling to picture a future here. Heck, the Irish barely do—they leave in droves seeking greener pastures in Australia. In the time I’ve spent at my new job, three people have resigned to travel around Asia, and one of them intends to visit the Philippines for the second time. I can’t help but wonder what they see in my home that I didn’t, and I, theirs.

Dublin isn’t easy to love and even harder to live in. Public transport is terrible. If you take the S2, you need to check the bus tracker app because it likes to breadcrumb you like a mediocre Hinge match. The LUAS can and will be interrupted when you need it most. Snowfall. A racist altercation. Vomit. These are some of the many reasons I’ve experienced firsthand. The weather is terrible—a quick Google search will tell you as much. Get used to drying your shoes on the radiator and maybe pack a spare pair for work. I’ve gotten a smug “Ni hao,” a “No speak English?” as well as an “I don’t read Chinese characters!” while I was reading a book written in English on public transport. I know racists don’t care (in fact, they probably revel in it), but I’m Filipino not Chinese! I could go on and on, but at the end of the day, I chose, and continue to choose to be here.

Me in marshmallow mode during the winter

Naturally, the question I keep asking myself is “Why?”

I’ve been on the receiving end of this line of questioning from locals a lot. “Why Ireland?” or “Why would you choose Dublin?” It sends me into a spiral of existential questions. Why did I leave my home country, when I eagerly boast about it to anyone who’d listen? What am I searching for, beyond monetary gain,1 in a country that doesn’t seem to want me here? How can I say I’m a person who values my family when I’ve left them? How can I truly build a life here, when my social circle feels like a revolving door of people who end up moving away?

There are times I wake up in the middle of the night thinking I’m still in my childhood bedroom. I get up, relying on muscle memory to lead me to the bathroom, and I bang into my wardrobe instead. It’s a rude awakening that lodges a sharp pain deep within my chest. I force myself to shake it off and carry on. Why do I bother?

A censored peek into my close friends stories—I’m never spending Christmas here ever again I would actually rather d*e

I genuinely wish I could give a wonderfully warm and sentimental answer. The truth is that I am still struggling with the uncertainties keeping my life in limbo while I desperately try to form some semblance of permanence.

However, I do know that I’ve been building as much of a life as I can within those parameters. I’ve fallen in love. My friends come from all walks of life, and they’ve made dealing with these challenges infinitely more bearable. My Google Maps is full of my favourite spots in the neighbourhoods I’ve resided in. I’ve graduated from my master’s programme. I’ve held two and a half jobs here, and I genuinely like my current one. The barista at my local coffee shop knows my order. I volunteer at a community-oriented space I initially didn’t believe I was cool enough for. These are the little things that keep me from packing it up and heading home.

Life was way less existential as a student

I was a privileged Manileña (admittedly, if I were to go back, I would probably regress into this identity) with Makati at her fingertips. It feels disingenuous to ignore that fact, when it’s the reason why home feels easy to romanticise.2 In Manila, my identity felt inherited, rather than intentionally shaped. Dublin gave me the gift of a fresh start. It gave me the permission to contemplate who I wanted to be, and the audacity to believe I could be her. It taught me to look beyond my superficial struggle and artfully weave a narrative that would give my suffering meaning. After all, Ireland is a nation of storytellers!

I know Dublin has become my home because it’s shaped my identity in ways only one could. In the Philippines, I would hide from the sun and slather on SPF50 before setting foot outside. Now, I microdose unprotected UV exposure like a little treat on a rare sunny day. I find humour in things that would’ve sent me into a spiral two years ago, like the NX skipping my stop at 12 midnight, leaving my partner and I scrambling for another route home (I was crashing out internally but he fell asleep on the bus with Smack That by Akon blasting through his headphones, so that got a giggle out of me). I’ve discovered that I enjoy swimming in freezing cold water, and I’ve learned to stick with the discomfort long enough until acclimatisation hits.3 I’m pretty sure that’s the reason I’m still here. I’m holding on to the hope that one day, I would have developed the tolerance for my endless list of woes, and all that will be left is the feeling of belonging.

I still intend to call Dublin home for at least the next year, and I will acclimatise to the best of my ability, despite all of my complaining. If there’s one thing Pinoys have in common with the Irish, it’s the ability to moan about the things you love the most—home taking the number one spot.

Anyway, we live in a capitalist world, and I use consumption as an emotional regulation tool, making this a great month for a REPORT! I’ll spare you all the details about my personal life and get straight to it.

Reading: All Them Dogs by Djamel White

I’ll admit, this is a read from July that I put on the back burner for other books, but I gave it utmost attention in August. I find that the best (subjectively, to me) reads transport me into someone else’s life and enable me to co-opt their worldview momentarily—this book achieves exactly that. White is amazing at inspiring disgust at his protagonist’s behaviour one minute and convincing you to empathise with him in the next. It’s incredibly immersive and definitely a worthy contender for the Booker Prize. Just a heads up, there are a lot of Irishisms that make it difficult to get into initially, but it’s well worth the effort.

Eating: Bullet and Little Canton

When I first tried Bullet last month, I came back immediately afterwards. It’s a quaint Hong Kong barbecue spot just off Capel St. serving rice bowls and Chinese dim sum from its sister restaurant, Little Dumpling. Their Roast Silver-hill Duck rice bowl is affordable (they run a €12.50 lunch special, it’s €14 otherwise) and nothing short of fantastic. It’s packed with umami, indulgently rich, and paired with pickled cabbage that cuts through the flavour before it becomes too much (or as we’d say back home, you get umay). I’ve tried to convince myself that I’m capable of ordering other things on the menu, but to be honest, I’d rather not.

I’ve also been obsessed with Little Canton, another brainchild of the people behind Bullet and Little Dumpling. My friends and I tried it out of curiosity on a Sunday evening well spent on Drury St., and we’ve already gone back since. I highly recommend ordering the Crispy Squid Typhoon Shelter Style to share (put the crispy bits on top of your rice bowl—game changer), and dousing whatever main you order in their chili oil. The star of the show is their pineapple bun, which comes with a generous serving of butter. 100% worth every single calorie.

Playing: Fenit Sea Safari and WNRS - Couples Edition

Going on a sea safari has been on my Ireland bucket list for ages and my wish came true this month! I saw dolphins hunting and seals basking while fighting for my life due to seasickness. The waves were choppy, which meant that a number of Odyssey jokes were tossed around. I’m already itching to go again, and the Sligo sea safari is on my radar because of the unbelievable orca and humpback whale sightings.

My partner and I are huge fans of conversational card games, and We’re Not Really Strangers is one I’ve loved even before I knew he existed. The Couples version is a fun way to reminisce on fond memories and reflect on what you appreciate about your partner (or what’s been bugging you, too). We’ve still got Level 3 to go so I’m looking forward to that!

Obsessing: Anthony Bourdain and IFI’s 25 and under deal

I’ve been obsessed with Anthony Bourdain way before August, but I finished reading Kitchen Confidential and watched A24’s Tony (2026) this month, so here we are. Though the film clearly deviates from its source material (the most obvious being omitting his heroin addiction and the stalkerish reimagining of his relationship with Nancy), both were extremely enjoyable and left me in a contemplative mood. They challenged me to think about how I choose to show up in the world, through the eyes (and lived experience) of someone I deeply respect.

If you’re a youthful cinephile in Dublin, you absolutely must take advantage of the IFI 25 & Under membership. You can see films for just €5, and the building’s got loads of character. My friend and I had a giggle going up the stairs to the cinema—it felt like a literal maze with “WET PAINT!” signs everywhere.

Recommending: Therapy and weeknight outings

When the salsa classes fail to distract from the heaviness I feel in my chest, it’s time for a therapy session. If you’re based in Ireland, I highly recommend Turn2Me. I was experiencing a new low and wanted to rip out the hair from my skull when I found their website on Trinity College Dublin’s list of low cost service providers. The great thing about it is you get six sessions completely free with an option to donate if you earn below a certain threshold. It costs €50 per paid session, so do check out the Trinity list above for more affordable alternatives if need be.

In yet another exercise of free will in the time of a mental crisis, I’ve decided to make the weeknights count. Weeknight drinks are completely manageable when you start at 6:30 PM.

Treating: Matcha

I am weaning myself from coffee so that I can treat it like a sweet treat instead of an absolute necessity. I’ve had enough of paying €5 for takeaway coffee I sip miserably at my desk. Instead, I splurge on a little matcha at lunchtime and take the time to sit outside with a book. That way I feel like I enjoy every drop and decompress from the workday, rather than letting it dictate my bevvy choices. Pictured is Around the Corner’s iced matcha with lavender syrup.

There are a bunch of honourable mentions I’ve excluded, particularly for food, but these are my top of the list picks. I hope your August was way better than mine!

Kung tanungin mo yung magulang ko tungkol sa kahusayan ko sa Tagalog, matatawa sila. Nahihirapan talaga akong magsalita ng Tagalog ng dirediretso—kaya ko lang mag Taglish, tapos conyo pa yung dating (kasi conyo naman talaga ako). Kawawa naman yung mga tropa ko na nagbabasa nito. Di naiintinihan ng mga nagsasalita ng Ingles, tapos yung mga magaling mag Tagalog baka nadidiri. 🤣 1

I’ll practice writing in Tagalog more, but that’s a topic for another day.

Home feels (and geographically, is) far away, and I can’t help but think about the things I took for granted—language being one of them. In my all-girls Catholic school, we’d celebrate Buwan ng Wika every August. I remember wearing a baro’t saya or a patadyong and dancing with a basket of fruit on my head as a kid. Okay, I lied. I’m not so sure if these are actual memories or if my parents showed me so many pictures that my imagination just ran with it. I did dress up for Buwan ng Wika annually and pray in Tagalog, though. 14 years in that school burned those memories into my brain.

Little me in my little fit 😭

I managed to get through the Philippine education system without ever properly learning the language. I’m what you would call madiskarte.2 I always found a way. In my junior year of high school, we were split into pairs and given a research assignment in Tagalog. I wrote the paper in English, and my partner translated everything for us. It was an ideal scenario.

I struggled in university, where we were given binders’ worth of readings (yes, a binder—texts were printed and bound) and had to present our analysis to the class. I memorised an entire script I had written the night before, got thrown off by my professor’s questions and answered them in shitty Tagalog. My professor so kindly explained the difference between natin3 and namin4. He kept trying to get me to use the correct word. I got way too flustered, stammered, and eventually gave up and switched to English. The entire class burst out laughing, and my professor genuinely couldn’t breathe—he was laughing too hard. I sent him an email the following day apologising for my poor Tagalog, and he replied saying it was alright because it was entertaining. I wish I was joking. I got a B+.

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I was inspired to reconnect with the language of my motherland in August for a multitude of reasons:

1. I claim to be bilingual, but I speak English fluently and Taglish proficiently. Tagalog alone is a beast I have never conquered.

If you’re a potential employer, that was a lie. I am bilingual.

1. I was on the phone with my cousin while in a pub surrounded by people, and I wanted to complain without the fear of someone overhearing our conversation. I switched to Tagalog and felt frustrated. I told him (in English) that my vocabulary wasn’t good enough to convey my thoughts. He then proceeded to fill in the blanks for me.

2. I wanted an excuse to reconnect with books I loved in high school. Noli Me Tangere and El Filibusterismo taught me to think critically about religion. They opened my eyes to the systemic injustices within the Church (particularly in the Philippines during the Spanish colonial era). Jose Rizal was the snake offering me (Eve, obviously) an apple from the tree of knowledge, and I bit it. I did, however, read it in English even though we were instructed to read it in Tagalog (oops).

On a serious note, living in Ireland, a country where Irish has become almost obsolete due to British colonialism, made me more cognisant of the native language I’ve been taking for granted. Gaeltachtaí5 around Ireland are in danger because of tourism (local displacement driven by greed that helps the GDP but ruins actual lives—the Philippines can relate; see here and here). Even so, I see how the people around me try to keep the language alive. My boss speaks to his son in Irish. Cafes offer free coffees to people who order i nGaeilge. I’ve seen the excitement on people’s faces when they chat about speaking in Irish more often. It inspires me to reconnect with my home country’s language too.

If anything, I look forward to seeing if the books are just as thought-provoking as they were the first time around. I am nervous. And probably biting off more than I can chew.

This is me making a public announcement so that I can be held accountable. If I switch over to the English translation halfway through, then at least I can reconnect with my history, if not my language. The novels were originally written in Spanish anyway.

Translation: If you asked my parents about my Tagalog proficiency, they’d laugh. I really struggle to speak Tagalog fluently—I can only manage Taglish, and it comes off as conyo (because, well, I am conyo). I feel bad for my friends reading this; English speakers won’t understand it, and those who are actually good at Tagalog might be cringing.

Reading: Books laying around in my office (free!)

When it comes to reading, having a bunch of books on rotation keeps me entertained and off my phone. This month, I’ve exclusively selected neglected books around my office in an attempt to diversify my roster. My favourite out of the three I’ve been reading is The Mess We’re In by Annie Macmanus, which is a coming-of-age story deeply entrenched in pop culture and music references. It reminds me a lot of Deep Cuts by Holly Brickley—I was bewitched by both but they challenged my threshold for secondhand embarrassment.

Sunshine and reading time

Eating: Curb side ice cream

Curb side ice cream screams eurosummer. I know I’m in Ireland, which doesn’t really fit the bill for the ideal eurosummer destination (probably because sunshine is a scarce resource), but climate change is real and we’ve experienced a heatwave that fried the country. I’ve been loving Around the Corner’s weekend exclusive affogato soft serve, and I’m a huge fan of their sun soaked outdoor seating. I lived out my European fantasy: sitting outside, yapping with the girls, and sweating. I didn’t think it was possible to sweat in Dublin, but the city surprised me.

In the evenings, I Monelli is a wonderful people watching spot with seating right by the canal. You get to say hello to all the dogs walking past while enjoying authentic Italian gelato (with several sugar free options). I’m happy to report that their food menu is just as good as their gelato, making it the perfect curb side dinner date spot while the sun remains in Dublin.

The correct way to deal with a heatwave

Playing: Salsa!!

Salsa is not a game. However, it’s the most playful thing I’ve done this month. I’ve been dying to take salsa classes ever since I saw Bad Bunny’s BAILE INoLVIDABLE music video last year, and July was the month I finally made it happen. On a fateful Karmi Yogi shift, I met my new friend Jasmine, who’d been taking salsa classes in the city. Fate literally brought us, two Scorpios with consecutive birthdays, together. I’ve been learning the basics and enjoying it! Been hitting a little cross body and under the bridge on weekday evenings.

Obsessing: The World Cup

I don’t care about football (shocker), but once every four years this phenomenon rolls around. The World Cup was impossible to ignore in Dublin, even if Ireland (sadly) failed to qualify. I joined Revolut’s World Cup challenge, betting on Spain to win—spoiler alert: they did! My football-loving boyfriend told me to pick France, and now he will never hear the end of it from me.

I spent several evenings a week in different pubs, cheering on different teams. My TikTok is still flooded with Haaland and Bellingham edits. I, along with the Irish, rooted for Cape Verde and was completely devastated when they lost to Argentina. The World Cup felt like a fever dream—an alternate reality where I genuinely got emotional over a bunch of dudes kicking a ball. Leaving this obsession in July and looking forward to the football-less remainder of the year.

Viva España!

Recommending: Pickosito

If you take anything away from this report, let it be to try Pickosito ASAP. I’ve recommended Pickosito for ages, but I finally dragged my besties over to the Northside so they could try it for themselves. It was absolutely overstimulating and boiling inside, but the food, the food, makes it worth it every fucking time. My go-to orders include Nachos Especiales to share (layers of nachos, cheese, salsa and a generous scoop of guac) with the Barbacoa and Adobada tacos. I genuinely cannot get enough of this spot, and if I have to subject my friends to the sketchy activities that go down in the lanes surrounding O’Connell St. to get my fix, then so be it.

I am salivating looking at these nachos

Treating: A spenny haircut at Maru + an expensive dry shampoo to match

If you know me, you know that my (mediocre at best) hair consumes most of my time. It’s dense and refuses to air dry in this humid country. Thus, I give in to my desire for a bob on an annual basis, then deal with the consequences for the rest of the year. I got the chop in March and am now experiencing the awkward grow out phase. Thankfully, Satsuki from Maru’s expertise made it look intentional. The haircut warranted the €87 price tag—it was one of the few times I walked out of a salon fully satisfied with my hair. I’ve also purchased a travel sized version of K18’s AirWash Dry Shampoo, which I regret to say does the job. My scalp is sensitive and most dry shampoos not only irritate it, but also leave my hair looking (somehow) dirtier than it did before application. This is the only formula that doesn’t trigger my scalp and genuinely makes my hair look freshly washed and styled (hello volume) with zero effort.

All of this is to say that I was living beyond my means this month, trying to afford the person I would like to be, and consuming my way into an identity that (for now) feels far out of reach. I saved a chunk of change reading free books, but alas, the cost of hobbies and food in Dublin hit an early career earner like myself pretty hard. I will be assessing and adjusting accordingly in August, so we’ll see what the salt air brings in!

I absolutely live for breaks. They give me respite from the horrifying truth that I will probably be stuck at a desk job until I turn 60. While I’m stuck in the Matrix (excuse my use of red pill language, but it’s probably the only red pill term I could co-opt for my vocabulary), I intend to use every bit of free time I have in this temporarily sunshine soaked city wisely. If this means eating at my desk while working so I can get an hour of sun time, I do what needs to be done.

Here are the things that I’ve done recently in Dublin to make the most of my midday hour of freedom and unadulterated pleasure!

Queuing for free things (this week: Kerrygold cheese)

If there’s one thing I know to be true about Dubliners after almost two years in this city, it’s that they love a good queue. After failing to secure a free Mother’s Day tattoo last year at Heartbreak Social Club (fitting name btw because I was devastated), I’ve lost faith in queuing for free stuff. Kerrygold’s Say Cheese, Think Kerrygold activation at Powerscourt Townhouse has somewhat restored it. They distributed free blocks of Kerrygold chili cheese for people lining up, and after a quick 30 minutes, myself and my new friends (shoutout Emma and David we will probably never see each other again) got a charcuterie grazing box full of goodies. 16 cubes of cheese, fruits and crackers = fuel so I can generate more creative ideas behind my desk. My boss secured a free mini bottle of Sprout & Co’s chili drizzle from their Camden St. location. A great day in the office for everyone involved. It is now my mission to find free things to queue for in the one hour of me time in the workday.

The aforementioned Kerrygold cheese box with Ballymaloe relish

Getting my hair done

I live and work close to Dublin city centre, which means there’s never a shortage of opportunities to squeeze in a self-care appointment. A lovely staff member at Chimac with gorgeous hair so kindly shared that she gets it done in Maru, a tranquil little spot on Aungier St., literally two steps away from the restaurant. Naturally, I booked an appointment for my lunch break. I thoroughly enjoyed their service, which included a complimentary beverage (I opted for an iced matcha latte). Satsuki looked after my hair with great care and attention to detail—we talked through a bunch of my reference images, she washed it with Milbon hair care products as I sat in a comfy massage chair, and she cut my hair with the precision that justified the €87 price tag. Overall it was a relaxing temporary escape from my to-do list. The whole service took less than an hour (I don’t have that much hair), which meant my appointment didn’t eat into company time. Don’t you just love increasing shareholder value while looksmaxxing?

Side note: I usually get my brows done during the workday. This day was an outlier and definitely not routine.

The haircut in question—growing out my bob into a lob era

Reading breaks, preferably outdoors but a cosy cafe works too

If you haven’t already guessed, I derive a lot of my mental strength from escapism. Reading transports me from my current reality and immerses me in someone else’s set of troubles. I remove myself from the office and touch grass at St. Stephen’s or Iveagh Gardens, where I make progress on one of the three books in my current rotation. I’ve been breezing through Anthony Bourdain’s Kitchen Confidential, and I’ve just started The Mess We’re In by Annie Mac. If the weather decides to be my enemy, I find myself seeking out cafes that make for an engaging people watching experience. The Fumbally in the Liberties or Sister on Lennox St. have been my favourites as of late.

A break by the canal

Raiding charity shops

Another wonderful thing about Dublin is the sheer amount of charity shops you can find along one stretch of road. If you walk in a straight line from Vincent’s in Rathmines towards Camden St., and eventually hit Aungier St., you will have seen at least nine different ones. On a particularly hot day I severely misjudged and did not appropriately dress for, I came home with an entirely new outfit to change into. I don’t normally purchase anything (I think this is true given the amount of items I’ve bought vs the amount of times I’ve ventured into a charity shop), but it’s a welcome distraction.

The Vision Ireland I frequent

Although this isn’t a charity shop, I’d be remiss to leave out the Last Bookshop along Camden St., which hides the cutest reading spot ever (The Cake Cafe) behind it. I’ve lost count of the amount of times I’ve subjected my friends to Instagram Stories of the cafe’s interiors and the shelves upon shelves of books. I’ve recently purchased The Seven Types of Atheism by John Gray (not to be confused with the American author John Gray who wrote Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus) which is the third book on my current rotation.

The Last Bookshop

I know for a fact that this list will grow. If you have any ideas for a lunch break maxxing side quest, please let me know!