Big Red Switches

I think I have nearly sussed the mysterious workings of Dublin domestic life. I had many opportunities to research it when I moved into my new flat in Rathmines this weekend. I spent Saturday morning at Mimi's, packing up the quarter of my belongings that weren't still meticulously rolled and stuffed into my suitcases. I called a taxi when I'd finished, trying to avoid a repeat of my London luggage-on-public-transportation escapade. I successfully escaped without any new luggage bites. I was grateful for that because my particularly bad luggage bite had just vanished.

My new flatmate, Gerard (I thought he'd said Jared the other two times I met him), helped me haul my suitcases up the stairs and I eagerly took out all my stuff. It always feels a bit odd to finally unpack after spending two weeks gingerly fishing out necessities while trying to disturb as little of the suitcase infrastructure as possible. After my suitcases were empty and snugly nested inside each other, I went to go buy sheets and a duvet cover.

I'd been directed to Dunnes by several of my coworkers, so I walked over to the store near my house. They had no single duvet covers in stock, so I left with only sheets. I went to Pound Saver for my hangers, which wasn't such a save after all. I paid 2 Euros for sets of 8 hangers there and saw sets of 10 for 1 Euro 50 at Tesco the next day.

After finishing my domestic chores, I went to meet Mimi at Wagamama for some deliciously gingery udon noodles. The members of a rock band from California sitting next to us started chatting to us as just before leaving. They offered to give me and Mimi a shout out at their gig on Friday if we turned up. An enticing offer, but I'm still exploring my options.

It was a Saturday night and we live in Dublin, so we naturally ended up at a pub after dinner. Our path to the bar took us through a group of lads who were sitting on stools strewn across the walkway. "There's plenty of room if you want to sit here," they called. We took them up on their offer, and they all turned out to be lovely. I chatted with a doctor named Michael. He and another lad who Mimi had been chatting to left fairly shortly after we arrived. Mimi and I stayed on at the pub with the third lad, Enda. He was an absolute riot. He did an analysis of my personality based on my clothing and came pretty close.

We stayed at the first pub with Enda for a while, then went with him to join his mates who were celebrating someone's 30th birthday. I left very soon after we arrived. I was suffering through my normal settling-in period of feeling low, and I just wanted to be by myself. My departure was hastened slightly by someone who decided that telling me that he'd told Mimi about a show that had a helicopter named Mimi in it was a good conversation starter.

I spent the rest of my Saturday night desperately regretting that I didn't have a duvet. I'd gone to bed in a t-shirt and pyjama bottoms and woke up shivering. I pulled another long-sleeved t-shirt over the first and tried to wrap myself in a cocoon of sheets and the two thin, scratchy wool blankets that had been left on the bed. I was still freezing, so I dug a hoodie out of my closet and zipped that on as well. That worked as far as keeping me warm, but the pesky springs in my mattress kept poking me awake throughout the night.

I got up fairly early for a Sunday and went to run more errands. I owed Stef a half month's rent, which I wanted to pay by changing my pound notes into Euros. I was dead set against withdrawing any more money from an ATM after seeing the hefty fees my British bank charged. Unfortunately, no bureaux de change are open on Sunday. I was skint as far as cash, but I absolutely had to buy a duvet. I checked a second Dunnes location, which did have a single duvet in stock. I charged it with my debit card, fees be damned.

Before buying the duvet, I went for a coffee to battle the chilly weather. I spent some time reading in the cafe, then decided to explore the Powerscourt Centre next door. There was a rather brilliant jazz trio playing on the ground floor, so I skulked around the place and listened until they'd finished. At one point I was sitting on a bench on the second floor. Suddenly a man who was walking past me let out an enormous belch and shiftily slid his eyes in my direction. I was slightly appalled, a feeling that was greatly intensified when he walked past me again going the other direction and belched a second time. I'm still not sure entirely what to make of that.

When I got back to my house that evening I put a pot of water on the hob to cook some pasta. I didn't see any sign that the burner was working, despite my having turned the appropriate knob to the highest setting. I was baffled and started examining all the different knobs. I eventually expanded my search to the walls around the oven and spotted a big red switch. I have a natural aversion to flipping big, menacing-looking levers, so I hesitated for a moment before switching it to "on." That was indeed the solution to my problem, and the burner coil promptly started to glow.

I had a similar experience with the shower. It had worked flawlessly when I used it on Sunday, but nothing happened when I tried to turn it on Monday morning. I tried flipping a few switches I'd found in the closet, to no avail. Frustrated, I went back to my room to wait for someone else to get up and come to my aid. On the way there I noticed another of the threatening red switches on the wall above my head. I flipped that on and heard a reassuring humming come from inside the bathroom. Now if an Irish appliance fails, I know to look for a big red switch.

Despite nearly mastering appliances, I still haven't quite sussed the transportation system. I attempted to take the bus on Monday and was late. I tried a combination of the Luas light rail and DART commuter train this morning and was late again. I left an hour early both days, so it means an earlier start for me tomorrow. Inconceivable, really, since I lived farther away in Smithfield and made it to work faster. The DART and Luas are cleaner, but I really miss the Tube. The morning threw another disappointment at me when I tried to make a mocha out of the lattes that our coffee machine at work can churn out. The cocoa I added floated to the top in chunks and only succeeded in making the mixture more bitter. I'll try a different tactic tomorrow. Like looking for a big red switch.

New pubs explored: The South William, The Duke
Pubs revisited: Grogan's