Electric Maudlin'

I've completed my self-proclaimed last step in settling into Dublin: repairing my broken light fixture. I went into the garage on Saturday afternoon and stared up at the fuse box. The switches were labelled with blue ball-point pen scrawl, which I found a bit untrustworthy. Given that I was dealing with electricity and facing possible electrocution, I really wanted to see a sturdy, reliable, no-one-has-accidentally-mislabeled-these-switches serif font. But I needed to restore light to my room, so I forced myself to trust the handwriting and flipped the two switches that said "Lights." My trust was very limited, however, and it didn't prevent me from compulsively checking each and every light in the house to make sure the electricity was definitely off.

It became quite a makeshift endeavour from there. We don't seem to have any sort of ladder or elevating device, nor could I locate a screwdriver. My solution was to stand on my bed and use the thin metal ring connecting a set of keys. I successfully freed the red and blue wires from the screws pinning them down, wincing in anticipation of the electrocution that would surely follow. I was momentarily concerned by what appeared to be an extraneous piece in my replacement part, but I eventually decided it must not be important. I carefully recaptured the wires under the new screws, turning them as tightly as possible with my keyring. That done, I replaced the bulb and marvelled at how the non-broken fixture held it in place. After turning the switches in the garage back to "On," I returned to my room and hesitantly pressed the switch in the wall. Nothing popped, nothing exploded, nothing sizzled. It would be so much better here to say "Nothing happened at all," but it's not true. The room filled with light, just as it should have.

Despite my resounding success with simple electrical repairs, I still don't feel settled. I haven't yet been able to form a connection with the place or people. This a little disconcerting to me because I've already been here a month. I've made some promising starts, but certain things are so slow in coming. I tried to cultivate relationships with a few of my contacts here on Saturday, but I didn't receive a response. I felt a bit lonely, which led me to start pondering what makes a city welcoming. Is Dublin really as friendly as I initially thought?

On the surface it is. You can easily go up to nearly anyone and engage them in conversation. And it won't be the kind of conversation where the person you approached is focused on escaping from the situation as soon as possible. This is a wonderful thing. One of my co-workers has suggested that this is possible because Ireland has been uni-cultural for so long. You already have a sense of shared background and common culture, so it's easier to strike up conversation. But converting a casual connection into a something more enduring is what I'm finding difficult. While people are more open and warm up front than Londoners are, it has been just as hard for me to get past exteriors. They're friendly fronts, but they're still fronts, beyond which I haven't been able to reach. More time is inevitably what's needed. I will give it that, and will probably come away with brilliant friends. After all, I am a pretty handy electrician.