A Day in Bray

This week was full of job searching and house hunting. Niall took Dale and I to the north side of Dublin (stereotypically the worse side of Dublin, full of knackers—the guys who used to collect old horses and turn them into glue). Our first sojourn seemed to prove this theory right. The studio apartment was tinier than we even anticipated and certainly more of a mess. I felt bad for the very blue-eyed realtor when someone else who was there for the viewing shouted dramatically, “You expect someone to live in this? I’m an Irish citizen!” and then stormed out. We checked out two apartments across the street as well, and even if we could have lived with the size, the area seemed too unsafe. We thought that might be what we got for looking at the lowest priced houses (500-600 euros).

We then went to the Seaview house, which was in Clontarf, also in the north. Niall called it a “port-a-cabin,” as it was a box crammed next to other boxes. It was recently refurbished, so it was cute. But small. We were glad to find the bedroom and living room were separate for once. But it really was like walking six paces to get to either end. It intrigued us because it was down the street from the ocean, it had it’s own high-fenced gravel garden, and was near all sorts of transport. However, we didn’t know what to expect from the heating bills, we would have to buy internet, and we didn’t know how well we could handle constantly being in each other’s hair, so we put it on a maybe list.

Later in the week, Dale and I walked to an apartment near Niall and Leonie’s house, in a good neighbourhood where we have already been getting accustomed to the bus system. The apartment was in a corner store, between two of the shops. We walked through the door between the shops and went down a narrow hallway next to a flight of stairs. Inside was surprisingly spacious, with a full-sized fridge—unusual—a separate bedroom, and a recently refurbished bathroom for 600 euros a month. Connected to the bedroom was a door to a grimy, triangular courtyard, which was attached to the back of the shops on one side, and an empty apartment on the other. It didn’t look like it could be used for anything except smoking, which neither of us do. Leonie later suggested we could hang our clothes to dry out there since the shops don’t actually have access to it, and the other apartment may be empty for a while yet. Again, we would need to get internet set up, and the lady didn’t actually know what the heating bills were like yet, but we were interested. She even said it was going to be painted still, so it should look even better than when we saw it. Hopefully everything will be done this week and we can look again, and maybe even move in! It was amusing to us, given my back problems, that the shop right next door is some kind of massage/pain relief office.

Looking for Work

Dale and I took the bus into town decked out in our applying-for-jobs gear. It was hot outside, so I felt especially sorry for him in a full-sleeved button-up shirt and chunky black dress shoes. He dropped off his resume—I mean CV. I can’t stop doing that—in several stores we found along the way, but I hadn’t printed any of mine off yet, so I was there for moral support only. We went to the PPS office and spent far too long waiting for Dale to get his PPS number. The PPS number is needed for work, though they usually give you one when you start a job. I wasn’t able to get mine yet because we don’t have proof of address, which SWAP was able to provide Dale. The PPS number will him to set up a bank account, and may be helpful for getting an apartment. In the meantime, I’m stuck until we have a home or I have a job.

We generally catch the bus at Trinity University, which I have an eye for and Dale does not. But both of our senses of direction are improving, and we’re getting used to the transport system. You have to stick your arm out to make sure the driver will stop, and when you get on you say which stop you want, which it doesn’t say anywhere. So not only do you have to know it, you then have to keep your eye out for it and press a button to stop there. This week Dale made us sit on the top deck, which was covered unlike the tour bus in London. It turns out it is boiling hot up there. Dale also dropped off resumes in shops around Niall and Leonie’s neighbourhood. There was an O’Brien’s Wines, which he had applied online for in Canada, again in Ireland, and now in the store in person. He said the manager was very friendly and gave him the email for the HR person. Dale used the address, and now has an interview set up for Monday! They were happy to see that he did a WSET course last year, so it seems promising. Eventually we visited the USIT office again, this time to print off some resumes for myself. No one complained that I wasn’t a SWAP customer, and the girl who works in the computer area has been nothing but friendly, helpful, and encouraging.

Bray

We have been with Niall and Leonie for a week, which was the amount of  time they had originally offered. This means we need to get out of their house! We do not want to take advantage of them, or overstay our welcome. Luckily, Rosaleen offered to have us for the weekend, so Dale and I packed our backpacks and headed back for a cherry, “Welcome home!” from Vincent. We spent most of that Friday evening drinking beer or wine on the front step and chatting to Fionnuala as she did her gardening. On Saturday Dale and I took the train to Bray, which is putting on a summer festival.

The Sea-walk

We walked along the pier towards another cliff-front sea-walk, observing the carnival rides that were set up along the way and watching a helicopter land beside us on the hill. The sea-walk was tiring, with the hill rising up steeply to our right, and dropping off to the ocean on our left. The hike went on for at least six kilometres. We ventured to the edge of the cliff at one point, and on the way there I slipped and sent my bare foot straight into a spiky prickle bush. When we reached the end, we walked straight into the nearest pub. It was called the Beach House, and the staff were not very friendly. It got worse when I dropped a bottle of cider all over the floor… But at least it was cool inside, and the ciders were refreshing.

An old Carriage Stop

Thistles

Eventually we got ice-cream cones and took the DART back to Bray. We laughed our heads off on a carnival ride that spins as well as swings way up into the air like a palindrome. Then we walked barefoot along the ocean, sat in the sand as the sun set, and later wandered around town looking for a freaking hot drink because we hadn’t been planning on staying into the chilly evening. There was a gazebo where bands were playing loudly, so we listened to the music from the beach while sipping the long-awaited hot chocolate.

Taking a Peek Over the Edge

Having a Break at the Cliff's edge

The following day we walked up to Sorento Hill again and joined a small crowd of people who were trying to watch the air show across the bay in Bray. Fionnuala joined us with her dog Biff, until eventually the grey sky turned sunny again and I was relieved to get out of it’s direct gaze. The rest of the day was spent relaxing at home with a book.