Accordion Morning

When we awoke Friday morning to the sound of an Irishman playing his accordion outside our window, we knew something was about to happen. This was the day we were going to hear back from our interviews and we were way too anxious to do much of anything. To ease our anticipation, we got lunch at our beloved Bagel Haven and tried to waste time chatting while we stared at our phones. (Keep in mind that Al already scored one job as a waitress at the Greyhound race track just east of town, where she works with fun coworkers in a uniquely cool setting.)



Al’s call from the Body Shop came first, and she got the job! She starts next Tuesday in the shop just north of the River Liffey. Now with two solid part-time jobs, both in an upbeat environment with cool young people, Al was set.



Then Mer’s call came. The results were much less exciting; Mer did not get the job. Enter Mer’s inner-monologue: “Really? My Northwestern education can’t even score me a job selling lotions and eye shadow? This is so pathetic. I’ve applied to 50 jobs, in the streets and online. I’ve called back. I’ve spoken with managers. Isn’t this country supposed to have the most booming economy in the world? Why can’t I just get a job? I promise I’d be good. Blast.”



Torn between a feeling of victory for Al and gloominess for Mer, we set out on our zillionth job hunt. The rainclouds were spilling over and it was looking to be a terrible horrible no good very bad day. But then, there, in the middle of Temple Bar, there was a sign in a window that read “Experienced Waitstaff Required.” Mer grabbed a CV and gathered her gusto for this one last shot in the dark. Five minutes and a hurried interview later, she walked back out with a job! The day suddenly turned from dismal to delightful and we danced in the street, realizing our summer was about to begin. We had really done what we set out to do!



We spent the afternoon shopping for uniforms and celebrating our new careers. Al will likely work 3-4 day shifts at the Body Shop and 3-4 night shifts at Dobbins at the Park, while Mer is working every night for the next week, and then 5 nights a week after that. Great success.
Not working together was not part of the original plan and it has lead to one awkward result: nights spent alone. Both Al and Mer have had to entertain themselves – gasp! – without the other and the separation anxiety is resulting in dangerous amounts of harmonica-playing, juggling and Sudoku.

Dublin continues to amaze us with its brilliant sights. We spent some time in the National Gallery, an enormous art museum near Trinity College. There were Monets, Picassos, Van Goghs and Pissaros and best of all, it was free! We also did some exploration of Phoenix Park, Dublin’s version of Central Park and the biggest public park in Europe. The whole thing will take weeks to explore, but we traveled some paths, frolicked in some lovely flower beds and circumnavigated the enormous Wellington Monument. Phoenix Park’s close proximity to our home promises to provide us with a summer of great running paths and several trips to the Dublin Zoo, which lies within.



Now before you start to fret that it’s all work and no play for these women, rest assured we’re still enjoying the night life. Whether it’s watching a football game at The Auld Dubliner, drinking our first Guinness at Fitzsimon’s or dancing the night away at the disco-tech below The Turk’s Head Pub, we always end our evening with the same sentiment: We love this city. Our United Colors of Benetton crew of friends continues to grow, with a recent addition from Germany and Italy. Maybe we should work on meeting some Irish people.

We leave you with a small anecdote: Americans are the only people in the world who can pronounce the oh-so-advanced word “Meredith.” After introductions, Mer gets everything from “Amanda?” to “Martha?” so she’s resorted to introducing herself as “Mer.” But even that has its downfalls. For instance, last night a Spaniard named Eduardo tried to meet Mer and she said, “My name is Mer…you know, like Mary…like the Virgin,” to which Eduardo responded, “Marry? No I will not marry you!?” and stormed away. I guess you can’t win ‘em all!
That’s all for now. Hopefully future blogs will be laden with tales of more friends, successful jobs and more adventures. Until then, Slainte!

In other news...

Countdown to the VIKING FESTIVAL: 3 days!!!!!!!!!Also, we counted... and we have 4 friends. And one PPS #. Yay!

Potential Employers, Playgrounds, and PPS

Moving in to our new apartment: Aparment 3, 52 Vicar Court, Thomas Street, Dublin 8

Our first homemade meal together!

We’ve officially hit our one-week mark as residents of the Emerald Isle. Though we’re still figuring out the tricks and trades of the city, we must look like we fit in, because people on the street ask us for directions almost every day. They always seem a bit shocked when we reply with our cheery American accents.

The good new first:

We have interviews! Tomorrow at 2:30 for Al and 3:00 for Mer, we will be interviewing at the only American place we applied to: The Body Shop. Hopefully some local venues will come through, but beggars can’t be choosers and in this city, we’re the beggars. We’ll take whatever work we can get. On Thursday Al has a “trial run” to be a waitress at for a catering company east of the city centre. Though we’re jump-and-shriek-in-the-streets excited about these, we are still hoping for more offers to come!

We’ve explored some more great sights. Today we took a bus north to Malahide Castle, a beautiful ancient castle that was owned by one Irish family – the Talbots – for over 800 years. It was full of ancient furniture and portraits and held some fascinating stories about Ireland in medieval times. It was nestled in 300 acres of park, complete with the sweetest playground we’ve ever played on and miles of pathways that wound through thick, lush forest. (Our afternoon spent playing in this park made us think of the fam—you guys would have been in heaven in this place!)

And now for the not-so-good news:

Alas, it’s not always rainbows and butterflies for these optimistic Americans. We’ve had a handful of disappointing occurrences in the past couple of days, the majority of which have to do with the annoyances of getting our paperwork straightened out. To give an example, we have
walked back and forth from the “PPS” office, 20 minutes both ways, three times now, only to be
turned away for a different reason every time.
We missed the closing by 5 minutes. We didn’t have
appropriate proof of address. “Due to an unexpected intervention by the Public Service Committee, the office is closed.” This silly little PPS number is the supposed ticket to getting approved for a bank account, so we haven’t any other option but to trek back again tomorrow. With our luck, it will likely be closed due to the return of the famine. Blast.

We leave you with an Irish quote: “Ireland has one of the world’s heaviest rainfalls. If you see an Irishman with a tan, it’s rust.”

Sláinte, Cheers, and love,

Al and Mer

More pics!

• Al's excited about the 393-foot-tall Monument of Light, commonly known as the Spire.
• Mer nearly topples into a pond at St. Stephen's Green
• Goofing around on the lawn of Christ Church Cathedral
• A view of the River Liffey, which runs right through the city
  

Grueling Pace, Meager Rations

Grueling Pace, Meager Rations

(Cheers to Carly, by the way, for that catchy title)

….and the good times keep rollin’. We write to you now from our lovely kitchen table in our bright, high-ceilinged, gorgeous little apartment. We moved in last night and have already fallen in love with our location and our fabulous Italian roommate, Gionothon. He is currently skyping his family in some rapid-fire Italian as we snack on feta cheese and marinated olives. What a life.

We can describe our day yesterday in one word: productive. We moved out of our hostel and spent a few hours editing our CVs, printing them out and applying to jobs online. Then, with a stack of 20 CVs in hand, we took Dublin by storm. We trekked up and down the cobblestone streets and walked into every coffee shop, bagel store, restaurant and pub we could find. We must have performed our routine in 60 places, but only 20 were hiring. It went something like this:

Mer (with a ridiculously cheesy smile): Hi! We’re just wondering if you’re still looking for more help for this summer?

Always-friendly Irish worker: Ay, sure. Just leave your CVs ‘ere and we’ll give ‘em a look.

Al (with an enthusiastic grin): Great! Just so you know, we both have tons of experience. We’re here all summer and we can start right away!

Irish dude: Cheers.

And now we wait. There is a load of government paperwork yet to be done, not to mention plenty of sights to see, so we will have no trouble staying busy.

In addition to the miles of job-search walking, we also took time to explore Trinity College and take a tour of Dublin Castle. We also checked out the Spire, a huge metal sculpture that soars above O’Connell Street, which is north of the River Liffey. Needless to say, our feet were dead sore. We relaxed on Saint Stephen’s Green, a beautiful park in City Centre with very inviting lawns, and recouped. Having survived on the “poverty diet” that day, which consisted of free toast, a shared slice of leftover pizza and a free smoothie we got from a coupon, we were also ready to chow down. That’s when we discovered the Happy Hour special at a little Italian café: salad, pasta and wine for 8 Euro!

To top off our happiness from feeling full for the first time since we arrived, we then received a call from Gionothon that he was ready for us to move in! In obnoxious American style, we strapped on our huge backpacks and trailed our Moby-sized suitcases six blocks away from our beloved Kinlay House hostel. We would have been skipping and singing “Zip-i-de-doo-da” if not for the 100 pounds of crap we were lugging around. Upon arrival, the apartment was every bit as charming and bright as we hoped it would be. Time to celebrate!

First stop: The Foggy Dew (which we had trouble finding because we could have sworn the Irish dude who suggested it to us pronounced it “Faggy Jew”) What a great pub. Lots of people, great music and very classic Irish atmosphere with low wooden ceilings and barstools everywhere.

Next stop: Temple Bar, the original pub in this now highly-touristy area. Here we met up with Georgi, Flo and Ben, our new friends from Bulgaria, Austria and California, respectively. Just like us, these gents are spending the summer looking for work and a place to live. It’s great to have someone to commiserate with, not to mention they are highly entertaining and friendly.

Next stop: Gionothon picked our crew up and led us to his favorite pub, the Sinead, just north of the Liffey. There were two stories of great dancing to such Irish classics as Johnny Cash, Lionel Richie and ACDC. I guess we just have to accept that the nightlife soundtrack around here is akin to that of a bar mitzvah.

We had a jolly walk home as we recounted on our accomplishments: In just three short days, we found a place to live, figured out this fantastic city and even made a handful of friends. We’ve successfully completed our first grocery trip and have a fridge stocked full of fruit from the market and a random assortment of semi-questionable-but-dammit-they’re-cheap European goods.

And now it’s time for a dinner with Gionothon. Send some good vibes across the sea that we find jobs, and take heart that we are blissfully happy!

Sending you love and luck,

Al and Mer

The Adventure Begins!

The Adventure Begins!

After a year of planning and pontificating, we have finally arrived in Dublin! We’ve been here just over 24 hours and already have much to report.

The adventure began in Chicago, when Mer’s Philadelphia flight was canceled, which left us arriving in Shannon Airport on different planes with the slightly-nervous last words of, “I guess I’ll find you (sans cell phone) in Ireland!” The luck of Irish was on our side and the rendezvous in baggage claim was both simple and joyous. At last we were together in Ireland!

But the day had only just begun. We hopped on a three-hour bus ride across the Irish countryside from Shannon in the West to Dublin in the East. It took a few kilos to get over the fear of traffic coming from the right lane – these silly UK drivers. The scenery between there are here was undoubtedly breathtaking, with hedge-lined roads that wound through green fields peppered with castles and cows, but we wouldn’t know, because we were sound asleep. It seemed like neither of us got much sleep on the plane.

We arrived in this great city in the early afternoon and hailed a cab to our hostel. Appropriately, it rained the entire first day here, a pattern we have already decided to celebrate, as complaining about it all summer would take up too much time. We got straight to work and traversed the city multiple times to get our bearings, pick up some last-minute items and find cell phones with free calls between the two of us. If you have the desire to call us, Al’s number is 0852748542 and Mer’s is 0852758562.

The apartment search commenced in the evening, after a dinner whose questionable flavor was only forgiven by its much-welcomed low price. The first apartment took us on a 10-minute walk west of the Hostel to a small flat we would share with Gionothan, a friendly Italian in his 20s. The location is great – in an exciting, accessible and safe part of town, within 15 minutes of everything we need. We then walked 30 minutes to the other side of town to check out our second option with Irish roommate Frank. The place wouldn’t be so bad were it not for the corridor of intense graffiti leading up to it. Frank claimed it was a legal “art sight” that people used to pay homage to U2’s old studio, but the frequent appearance of the word “kill” had us wondering if that was true.

By now, our feet were sore and our bodies damp from the persistent downpour, so we elected to stop for our first Irish beer. No, it wasn’t a Guinness. It was a Smithwick’s for Al and a Heineken for Mer and there was soccer playing and the bar had an “O’ ” in its title and, of course, we took an obnoxious American picture for all of you to enjoy.

To celebrate our arrival and our jam-packed day, we hit up Temple Bar in the evening. Our hostel mate, Elek Rico from L.A., was celebrating his 22^nd birthday, so we took him around to a few bars. The loud folk musicians played Irish music as well as spunky renditions of “Country Roads,” “What do you do with a drunken Sailor?” and some song with a complicated clapping scheme that Al mastered by the second chorus.

After our early afternoon tour of Dublin Castle, jet lag set in fairly hard, so we napped through the rain and now are getting ready to check out the final apartment. We’ll make a decision tonight and hopefully be true Dublin residents by tomorrow! After that, the job search begins in full, but we’re taking this adventure one day at a time. Wish us luck!

Cheers, love (as they say in Dublin) and here is a poem Al found to send us on our way:

From this hour I ordain myself loos’d of limits and imaginary lives.

Going where I list, my own master total and absolute.

Listening to others, considering well what they say,

Pausing, searching, receiving, contemplating,

Gently, but with undeniable will divesting myself of the holds that would hold me.

-Walt Whitman, “Song of the Open Road”, from Vagabonding J