Blessing of the Boats

The bus strike had us walking from our home in Rathmines to the city centre so we could attend a social event that USIT (SWAP) hosts every Monday. It took us a full hour, so we were relieved that it was sunny but not hot out. We kept our eye open for “help wanted” signs in the glinting windows along the way, but didn’t spot a single one. After passing by a large grey stone church and a few tiny cobbled alleys near Dublin Castle (more of a large courtyard than a castle, really), we came to Fitzgeralds, which overlooks the Liffey River and O’Connell Bridge in a prime location right beside USIT. We walked into the very dark, wooden-bar atmosphere and chose a table towards the back. It turned out the other SWAPers were sitting in a nook behind us, though not many had arrived yet. We joined them after asking the waitress, and we were immediately met with groans and laughs from the group when we said we were Canadian. Half the group was Canadian. The one American girl was leaving for her own country shortly, and so were two Germans and even one Vancouverite! They told us that throughout the year the group had slowly changed from a majority of Germans to the now majority of Canadians. With a delicious 5euro meal and a free drink, the evening passed fairly quickly as we asked and were asked the same questions: where are you from; when did you get here; how long are you staying; do you have a place to stay yet; do you have a job yet? There was something refreshing about hearing people complain about missing their cars, finding work, Skype chats, and long walks without our precious buses running. I had been a little nervous to go to the social, but I knew it would be worth while in the long run. We were invited to a birthday party the next night as some of the group started to roll cigarettes inside the pub.

We didn’t end up going to the party, though it was nice to be included in the invite so immediately. I had a job to go to in the morning, which Niall told me about the night before. It was for Leonie’s dad, and I would be collating market research on Irish banks. I was able to walk virtually around the corner from our place to his. I rang the doorbell on a large green door and was welcomed in to discover I would be working in an office to myself upstairs. I enjoyed the actual tasks, which essentially included turning data into tally charts. Barry said I took to it well, and that a lot of people don’t. It simply isn’t for them. He also said the best girl he had had in the past was Canadian, so I made sure to keep up that good impression. His very kind wife, Della, brought me tea and biscuits mid-morning every day for that week of employment.

Unfortunately I had to leave work in the middle of one particular day for an interview. I walked for about 15 minutes to the Swan Centre under a bright but grey sky. The interview was for a new café, but when I arrived at another café where I was supposed to meet my interviewer, I couldn’t seem to find her. The tables surrounded a circular viewing area of the mall below, so I walked around it more than once, trying to make eye contact with my potential employer. I asked the cashier at the café if she knew anything, but she didn’t. Eventually I called Dale and asked him to check my email. Despite having my phone number, the woman had sent me an email during business hours—which meant I was already at work—to cancel. Angry that I had been wandering around like an idiot and losing precious working hours, I ran a quick errand at the post office for Barry and then hurried back. I found it difficult to reschedule the interview because of the stupidity of the situation, but agreed to try again on Monday.

I was nervous for work on Saturday because Barry had asked how I was with math the day before. I answered honestly and said it was not my strong suit, which led to an awkward full ten seconds of staring at each other. When I arrived on the math day, he asked me some on-the-spot percentage questions, and naturally I froze. They were simple questions, yet I gave him the wrong answer to one of them more than once. I tried to explain that I just tend to freeze when people ask me math questions, and he interrupted, saying in both a stern and an understanding tone of voice, “It’s a block. This is simple math. All you have to do is remove it and you’ll see.” He went on to say that he has blocks regarding other subjects, and told me a story about helping one of his kids to remove their block. I knew he was right. After all, I’ve been struggling with this block my whole life. But the way he talked about it being of my own construction was somehow different than how I’d been thinking about it before. It was forgiving to say it was a just a personally constructed block, and not stupidity. I got to work counting the tallies, but never did do anything with percentages in the end. I’m not sure if I scared him off, if he didn’t want to make me any more uncomfortable, or if he really didn’t have any more work at the moment, like he said. But he asked me to call anytime, and to let him know how the job hunt goes. I still have to get my PPS number to him when I finally have it myself, and I’ll be picking up my very good pay on Monday or Tuesday. In three and a bit days of work, one of the days being interrupted, I have almost entirely covered my half of next month’s rent.

Every time I returned home in the evening, Dale was playing games on his PSP. I started to get really annoyed because there is no room in the kitchen for dirty dishes and we have to wash them before every meal just to use them, which wasn’t happening. I left a note with instructions about the laundry one day, and it turns out the laundry machine was broken, so when I came home for my wonderful hour-long lunch break I had to encourage him to call the landlord and sort it out. I had been hoping to have it done in the morning so it would dry faster, but Dale slept through the morning anyways. The laundry machines are operated by a coin system, which turned out to be the busted part. Luck was on our side because even though we’d lost one coin to the damn thing, laundry was now free temporarily. So Dale spent the rest of the day washing all our laundry, our bed sheets, and our towels. We hung them to dry on our drying rack in the living room, which didn’t take up as much room as we had worried it would. Another day, Dale got out of the house to hand out three resumes.

Waking up to the ocean

Our room at Vincent and Rosaleen's

Someone did this on purpose, right? And yes, I did try it out...

Saturday evening Rosaleen invited us for dinner and a night in Dalkey, which we accepted gladly. I had been hoping to go to Newgrange on Sunday because I felt a little trapped being indoors in Ireland so much, but we couldn’t seem to sort out how to get there. The plan is to ask for some advice before we go further. It was nice to get out of the city atmosphere in Dublin too.

Dalkey in the evening

         

In the Magpie

We had dinner with Rosaleen and Vincent, then Dale and I wandered down to the tram yard for coffee. We were surprised to find all the tables packed or reserved, and had to go to the Magpie instead. We ordered Irish coffees at the bar, then took a spot at a round table outside as the evening darkened. Dale started to talk about how stressed he has been feeling lately. It turns out being home alone wasn’t doing him any favours as he worried more and more about not having a job, his dwindling savings, and the possibility of having to go home and having no job or money back there either.

He is home sick for being able to do whatever he wants with his money, and the comfort that that brings. It seems like his thoughts are in a downward spiral of pessimism that I hope he can shake. I’m a completely different story. I’ve been broke my whole life, especially as a

university student, so I’m quite used to saving and not drowning in the worry. Not to mention the fact that if I had money to spend, I’d be spending it on Ireland! I’m living a dream, and I’m willing to sacrifice financial security for the experience. But I know Dale needs a job and a schedule to feel like he has purpose, and to feel justified in enjoying this experience. I tried to

Dale trying to be cheerful

encourage him to hand out more resumes and to be confident when doing so, but I also said a prayer that night that something will turn up for him soon. It would be terrible for him to miss out on the culture and sights around us just because he is stressed. I really don’t think it hurt that we got out of the house to Dalkey.

Videos:

The Blessing of the Boats (try 1:24 secs of the second video for a view of the surroundings)

The arrival of the Life Boat

On Sunday there was a “Blessing of the Boats” ceremony in Bullock Harbour. Rosaleen suggested that Dale and I wander down to check it out. We arrived to a gathering crowd on the stony pier, and live Irish music starting up. A seal kept popping its head out of the water closer and closer to those of us who chose to sit looking out at the ocean. He was a big ham, blinking his large watery eyes for the camera and disappearing under the water now and then so that the kids would shout, “There’s the seal!” when he resurfaced. A Life boat came speeding into the harbour to cheers from the crowd, and the priest who would be saying a blessing disembarked. The King of Dalkey, also known as the mayor, turned up in a furry white robe and crown, smiling with adults and kids alike for photographs. We had a moment of silence facing the Irish flag, then the priest said a blessing for the boats, asking that they be kept safe and that their nets be filled. When all this was finished, the music recommenced and a group of little kids started to dance happily to Galway Girl. I enjoyed the family-friendly atmosphere, but Dale still seemed a little morose, so when the wind picked up we wandered back up to the house. 

The King of Dalkey

The seal at our feet

While Dale was upstairs, Rosaleen found not one, but two guitars for us in the shed! One of them has a crack down the side and what almost looks like a bullet hole as well, but it still plays nicely. Vincent said it was from Mexico originally, and he had played it for as long as they had lived in California. Now it’s in Ireland for two Canadians to play. The other guitar was missing two strings, but it shouldn’t be difficult to replace them. Both were very dusty, so I cleaned them off with a little bit of water, a cloth, and quite a few Q-tips, then called Dale down for his surprise. He smiled widely for a second when he saw both of the guitars sitting in the sun room, then grabbed one and immediately started to tune it.