I Spent a Month Living Like a Local in West Cork, Ireland
Here's why you should too
I’m ashamed to admit this is my first trip to Ireland.
Though I’ve lived in its neighbouring country for thirty years, Ireland has always been in my ‘I’ll get there eventually’ basket. I wish I’d come sooner, but perhaps it wouldn’t have had the same impact—a classic case of things happening at the right time.
Ireland arrived at a poignant time. It’s been a year since I began my housesitting journey, and I’m now on the verge of transitioning fully into a writing career. With endings and new beginnings in my orbit, I planned two months in Ireland to face these changing tides.
When I started this journey in 2023, my goal was simple: to fall back in love with life. A simple premise, but one not easily achieved in a world full of convoluted advice on how to live. At first, I overdosed on self-help books and podcasts, trying every method to cure my discontent without asking the hardest question: what do I truly want?
When I finally began to confront this question, the tiny village of Ballydehob, on Ireland’s southwest coast, became the perfect setting for my search. With a population of just 300, Ballydehob has been our home for October and offers more than you’d expect: pubs, cafes, salons, an art gallery, and even a Michelin-star restaurant.
The gem in the crown is its residents, who made us feel instantly at home. Bernie, the bubbly owner of the hairdressers, stopped us every time we left the house to see how we were getting on—leaving her customers, foil in their hair, to fill us in on the latest gossip.
The Irish Whip, our local pub just a door away, has become our second home. Its owner, Barry, has a knack for making you feel like family—a talent many Irish people seem to share. A visit to this pub feels like a night at the theatre. We gather around the bar, while Barry and his son Finbar orchestrate the evening with the precision of seasoned conductors. They share stories, coaxing them out of us like Michael Parkinson. Before you finish your first drink, they’ve already set down a perfectly creamy pour of Murphy’s, the Cork-favoured stout.
One of the regulars took my boyfriend out fishing, teaching him to catch our dinner—fresh mackerel, which he later served with buttery potatoes and a proud smile.
I got chatting to a couple who emigrated from Kent in the late eighties. They arrived in a converted school bus (before #vanlife was trendy), with just a few bags, a two-year-old, and no idea where they’d settle. They chose West Cork because, back then, it hadn’t been touched by modern life. “No one had money or fancy cars—most were held together with gaffa tape,” she told me. What united them was the desire for a simple, happy life.
Fast-forward four decades, and West Cork has changed significantly due to tourism. But visiting in the off-season, when the hum of tourists has faded, is a different experience entirely. We’ve had coves, beaches, and popular landmarks all to ourselves. It feels like arriving late to a party when the crowds have cleared and the hosts are happy to sit and chat over a nightcap.
It's moments like these—where connection happens effortlessly and life slows down—that reminds me why I began this journey in the first place.
We’ve been listening to Christy Moore extensively while here. He kept us company during a three-hour drive up the coast to Kerry, where winding roads and sweeping beaches felt even more magical with his lyricism. A firm favourite of ours is Lisdoonvarna. If you’re having a bad day, blast the live version through your speakers—it’ll lift your spirits in no time.
We have one more week here before we head to our next destination: the countryside town of Cavan, about an hour north of Dublin. But we know this won’t be our last visit.
One of the main reasons we’re housesitting full-time is because we don’t yet know where we want to settle. It’s allowing us to explore places like locals, but finding where to put down roots is a bit like falling in love. When you know, you know, as history whispers—and it feels like Ireland is starting to have that effect on me.
Luckily, our trip has only just begun. After Cavan, we’ll return to East Cork for another month of exploring. Most significantly for me, it will be a chance to retrace my great-grandmother’s roots, which began here in Cork.
It’s a strange feeling arriving somewhere new but feeling utterly at home. Perhaps our roots are embedded in our DNA, and our cells know where we are before our mind does. My fascination with tracing and learning about my roots has only grown with age, as I start asking the bigger questions: who am I? What do I want? Perhaps in reconnecting with our roots—both familial and emotional—we find new ways to fall in love with life, over and over again.
What places have made you feel instantly at home? I’d love to hear your stories in the comments.
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Looking for more reading? I recently wrote about age-gap friendships for Business Insider, and it’s been beautifully received. It was tough to sum up such a life-defining friendship in just 600 words, but it seems many of us have been fortunate to share this experience.
Until next time.
