My First Marathon

I have begun to sleep long and deeply and I am grateful.  Aided by earplugs and an eye mask, you can imagine no one is more adorable than me. 

I was awakened at a tender hour for a Sunday by the sound of someone testing a sound system on Galway Harbour.  This is how I learned that today is the Galway City Marathon.  The Galway City Marathon website explains that 2010 is the 2500 anniversary of the “legend of the Marathon.”  Cool. 

In the amount of time it took me to eat a bowl of cereal, drink two cups of coffee, finish a good British mystery on TV and take a shower, some half marathoners crossed the finish line.  When I left for church I saw happy finishers walking around with medals around their necks and I thought, “Well now, that looks like fun.”  After church I saw some of the full marathoners pushing on with looks of pain on their faces.  That looked significantly less fun. 

Back in my apartment, I am finding great pleasure in listening to the announcer over the sound system as people finish up.  Here is a sample of the kinds of things I am hearing:

Here’s a happy man finishing the marathon right now.  Well done sir.  Congratulations to you.  There’s a HAPPY man. 

Number 32 going through now is Karen Rushton.  Karen is from Great Britain. 

Number 34 is Mary Cord from U S of A.  Hello Mary, good to have you with us today.

            Well done girls.  Well done.   I hope you’re on the news tonight.  Six

o’clock it is. 

            All this running is making me hungry.  Time for lunch!

Look to the right and you might see people who just finished the marathon.

Growing Familiar

Two weeks ago today I moved in to my apartment on the Bay and one week ago today I said goodbye to Kevin in the Dublin airport.  I am still very early in my time here, but I have been here long enough to notice what I imagine will be patterns of life here. 

For example, in addition to the smaller vessels docked just outside my apartment, large ships come, stay and go.  I am amazed by how they deftly maneuver into a space dwarfed by their girth.  On impulse I Googled the name of one of the ships and learned that I can access a variety of information about them such as the year they were built, their deadweight, their length and breadth, the fastest speed recorded and their current location.  I feel a little glee when I consider that their current location is outside my window. 

I have become accustomed to Irish friendliness and have enjoyed it a great deal.  I might appreciate it even more than I might have otherwise because during my last sabbatical I couldn’t have friendly conversations in passing because of the language barrier. 

Perhaps the most significant case of friendliness occurred on my second day in Ireland.  Kevin and I had just seen a potential apartment.  The broker told us there was a grocery store nearby and we thought we would check it out to help us get a lay of the land. We weren’t sure where the store was, so we walked into a home improvement store and asked a clerk at the Customer Service desk for directions.  A woman waiting by the desk said to us, “Oh, I’m on my way there.  Jump in with me and I’ll take you.”  Amazing. 

There are so many other examples of friendliness, but just today when I got in line at the grocery store, I smiled at the woman in front of me.  In the two minutes we were in line together, she showed me the shoes she just purchased for five euro and told me about the dress she is wearing at her son’s wedding in October and how she is concerned that the skirt doesn’t fit quite right so she is going to take it to a tailor. 

The location of my apartment offers a physical manifestation of the balance I hope to achieve.  On one side of me I can watch people fishing and ships come and go while I work.  On another side of me is the bay along which I walk every day.  Behind me is the bustling city center.

The Fugro Meridian

The Galway Fisher

Mission "Impossible" to MIssion "Easily Accomplished"

Readers of my Italian sabbatical updates may remember the difficulties I had purchasing a chair.   My parents were coming to visit and my mother has a bad back and needs a chair with good support, something nonexistent in my apartment, so off I went on my quest for a chair. 

I won’t revisit the whole Italian chair buying experience, but, from getting to the store (it took me two days), to arranging delivery (they wanted me to carry the large footstool home on the bus through three different connections) to getting the chair into my apartment (the delivery people didn’t think it would fit), there was no part of the experience that was easy. 

Mom and dad are planning a visit to Ireland and, while my apartment is quite nice, once again, my furniture does not offer good support.   This chair buying experience was quite different.  I started out on a walk on Saturday with no specific plan.  I walked up the river and past a furniture store.  I ventured in and saw some lovely chairs.  None of the chairs had price-tags, which I believe is the universal language for, “you can’t afford me.”  I continued up the river to a large shopping district.  At the very end of the large number of stores was a discount furniture shop.  I walked in and climbed up a floor.  I sat in a sale chair that promised good support.  I approached a sales person.  I bought the chair and arranged delivery.  The chair arrived yesterday with no difficulties. 

I don’t have a good story, but I do have a good chair.  

A Day on a Smaller Island

Kevin and I spent most of our time together getting to know Galway, but last week Saturday, we took a day trip to Inishmore, the biggest of the three Aran Islands.  The residents of Aran Islands speak Irish as their first language. 

The day started inauspiciously; we lost all water in the morning.  First, we had no cold water.  Then, no hot.  Unfortunately, we ran out of hot water while I had soap on my hands.  I called the “emergency” number given to me by the management company and was told at least one other person from the building had called with the same problem. 

Kevin and I moved forward with our plan for the day, making slight adjustments.   We left without taking showers.  My face was unwashed, my teeth were unbrushed and my hair was undone.  Instead of eating breakfast at home, we ate at a little café. 

The weather was terrible in Galway—rainy and cold.  I was wearing enough layers to get me through a late-October football game at Memorial Stadium.  We took a coach from Galway to Rossaveal and a ferry from Rossaveal to Inishmore. 

We were prepared to rent space on one of the mini-vans that tour guests around the island.  Upon arrival, an amiable gentleman with piercing blue eyes who suggested we see the island from his horse-drawn carriage greeted us.  I looked at Kevin.  Kevin looked at me.  We climbed aboard and joined a charming Spanish grandmother with her two adorable grandsons and a young woman from Italy. 

The weather was chilly, but no rain fell.  We cuddled under wool blankets and took in the magic that is Inishmore.  It is glorious!  Miles of rock walls cover the island; I decided I would like a rock wall in my yard.  Our timing was excellent because we were treated to the sight of several seals from the local colony swimming in the ocean. 

The highlight of Inishmore is Dun Aengus, the ruins of a prehistoric fort located on a cliff.  We had to climb a steep and rocky hill to reach the ruins.  We were rewarded with breathtaking views and a natural way to combat the chill.  We noted how the cliff was left in its natural state; no artificial barrier was erected to prevent tourists from toppling 328 feet over the cliff to the sea below. 

After our carriage ride, we shared an order of fish and chips at a local establishment.  Fish has never tasted so fresh.  We then explored the local wool sweater outlet.  Kevin bought me a beautiful wool blanket as a housewarming gift and an adorable stuffed sheep I named “Baa” that he set out for me to find when I returned from Dublin after seeing him off. 

            It was a magical day. 

Kevin and I were both anxious as our return journey brought us closer and closer to my apartment; we hoped the water was fixed.  If we had no water, we planned to take another trip somewhere and stay in a hotel.  I’m sure we would have enjoyed ourselves, but it wasn’t our first plan.  Thankfully, when we returned the water was restored. 

Rachel and Kevin at Dun Aengus

Rachel at Dun Aengus

Rachel at Dun Aengus

Kevin and Rachel in front of rock wall

Our guide and Jimmy, his horse

Field on Inishmore

The path from Dun Aengus

Baa

Red Tape and Details

I suppose it’s the same any place in the world—moving to a new home takes time, patience and money.   I am grateful that almost everyone I dealt with was more than a little helpful.

One of the first things I needed to do was buy the items necessary to make it through a day and night in my new apartment.  We asked where we could find inexpensive bedding and towels.  Thankfully, the store was quite close.  We bought comforters, sheets and pillows, and an extra blanket (I tend to get cold) and towels for the bath and kitchen.  We also purchased cleaning supplies and items like soap and paper towels. 

On the morning of the day I signed my lease, Kevin and I brought the sheets and towels to a Laundromat.  My previous Laundromat experiences involved reading directions and buying soap/etc. from a machine on the wall.  This business was quite small and two women were working.  They dealt with the machines and we handled our items.  We put our laundry in the washer and they put in the soap and started the machine.  We moved our items to the dryer and they entered the drying time.  The women were friendly in a down-to-business sort of way.  While the clothes were drying, one of them said to me, “Looks like you bought out Penney’s, it does.”  I explained why I was in Galway and that I was setting up house.  I told her I hoped to gain library privileges at the university.  She knew the name of one of the  librarians and said, “Oh, he’ll help you out.”

The leasing agent suggested I sign up for cable/internet/phone on line.  Kevin and I went to the Internet café and I found a wonderful package online for a reasonable price that involved a free wireless modem and cordless phone.  I went through the process until I was asked for my Irish bank account number so my account could be debited.  I do not have an Irish bank account and I hadn’t planned on using one.  I called the “help” number and the pleasant young man was baffled by my situation.  “How will you pay your other bills, then?”  he asked.  Good question.  I had assumed I would pay with cash, credit card or bank note.

I decided I should look into opening a bank account.  As it turns out, it’s not that easy.  We learned that in order to open an account, I would need very specific kinds of proof of residency (this is to avoid tax sheltering).  A lease won’t work.  What works are utility bills.  I won’t have an electric bill for two months and, it seemed, I couldn’t get Internet without the bank account.  Catch 22.  I was frustrated and stumped.  The more I thought about it, though, the more I thought I was missing something.  I found it hard to believe that every person in Ireland has all his/her bills set up for automatic debit. 

Further exploration proved that, yes, I can get the Internet services without an Irish bank account.  I can take my bill to the post office and pay in cash.  This costs three euro extra a month.--a deal!  I set an appointment for the free installation.  I had to buy a television license for 160 euro.  This money helps fund public television; I minded less when l learned where the money goes.

While I was in no rush (I had a month), I reported to the Immigration office to get my “permission to stay.”  After one visit to the wrong place and one visit to a closed office, we made it.  I supplied a variety of documents (though not enough, I had to send more through the mail), was photographed and fingerprinted (which felt very strange).  I read in the “living in Ireland” book I purchased that this is free, but it is not.  I was charged 150 euro (about $200).  The officer would not accept cash and Kevin explained later that was probably to avoid the appearance of bribery.  I left the office with my immigration card and instructions to carry it with me at all times.  I expect this card will ease my re-entry into Ireland after my Christmas trip to the US. 

Each person who gave me bad news did so in a friendly manner.  What a difference it made; I felt like they really wished they could help me solve my problem.  I so appreciated being treated with such care.  

Rooms With A View

Views from/of my building:

View of City Center from my balcony

View from my living room window.

View of Galway Bay from my balcony

My building, Aengus House, is the blue building at the end of the dock

View of my building (blue) from an old dock

A rainbow ends at my building

Aengus House, my building

Life on the Docks

      The one part of my move to Ireland that caused the most anxiety was arriving without an apartment arranged.  I talked to a number of people who had been to Ireland on sabbatical or for travel and I emailed an apartment broker in Galway and all concurred:  arrive and then look.  That was comforting, but I did not want to spend a lot of money staying in a hotel, and my hope was to find a place during my first full day in the country and move in the next day.

      The apartment hunt was much more difficult than I anticipated.  The biggest difference is that I assumed that we wound find a broker who would show us a variety of places and I would pick the one I liked best.  Instead, an interested renter is expected to view properties online and then call the contact person to set up a viewing.  Though one may get a little lucky now and again, one should not expect to set up a time for that same day.

      I had an appointment for 9:00 AM on Monday, our first full day, that I set up before I left Lincoln.  I thought this might be my dream apartment.  The location was great and parts of the apartment were very nice, but what was online and what we found had some differences and this threw me off.  At this first meeting, I also learned that a renter does not just say, "I'll take it."  A renter can say, "I want it," but that is when the application process begins.  The application includes, among other things, two letters of reference (current employer and current or former landlord).  These are shown to the owner and the owner decides if you are acceptable.  You may, for example, want a ten-month lease while someone else might want a twelve-month lease.  The twelve-month lease is, of course, preferable to the owner.

      We viewed four different properties that first day.  They were all acceptable, but none were wonderful.  (We also saw the outside of one that was NOT acceptable--dark and unkempt, to put it nicely).   One nice apartment outside the city center seemed very promising.  After we viewed the apartment, we walked back into the center of town on that beautiful day; I imagined doing the long walk in the driving rain in January.   It was then that I realized that “location, location, location” really is key.  I didn't want to feel trapped in my apartment by the weather.  The last apartment we saw that day was very nice and conveniently located; I put in an application that evening but planned to keep looking.

      Meanwhile, we had an appointment to view an apartment that both Kevin and I thought might be "it."  Kevin had the idea to walk to an apartment building we had seen on our first evening’s walk; he thought they might have a rental office.  There was no office, but there was a sign with the name of the management company and a phone number.  I called and there was a vacancy but no way to view the apartment until the next day.  As I stated, I really wanted to settle everything that first day; that dream was fading and we extended our hotel reservation by one night and planned to view the possible dream apartment the next day.

      Before viewing the apartment we were both most excited about, we saw one other apartment that was a long walk from the city center.  The apartment was great but the location was sterile and life sucking (above mini-mall shopping center—ugh).

      We walked to the one we really wanted to see.  We both knew.  It was over.

      I could say that this was the apartment of my wildest dreams, but I didn't have dreams that wild.

      The apartment is on the fourth floor of a building that is built on a peninsula jutting out into Galway Bay with a lough (loch) on one side and where the River Corrib empties into Galway Bay.  The building is adjacent to a large waterfront park called Claddagh Park (as in Claddagh ring) making my dream of walking along the water every day less of a dream and more reality.  The building is also located at the base of the city center which is the shopping and entertainment hub of Galway.  As if that wasn't enough, there is a view of the Bay from the balcony.  That's right.  A balcony.  The bay.  A view.

      The apartment itself is beautiful.  It has two bedrooms and two bathrooms (perfect for guests), a lovely sitting room with a new sofa, and a well-appointed kitchen.  And crown molding.  The building is large and secure and there is actual art in the common areas.

      I asked the agent who showed us the apartment if she had an application.  No application necessary.  She was showing the place to someone else right after us, but acted as if renting to a university professor on sabbatical was a great move.  She called her agency and got things moving.  Kevin and I stopped by later, I paid a deposit and first month's rent.  I signed the lease the next day and picked up my key.

      My apartment is so much more than I could have hoped for, but there are a few drawbacks.  The first, and biggest, I hope will be resolved soon.  There is a sewer-like smell emanating from the hall/guest bathroom.  Kevin named the smell “the beast.”  He did some investigating and he believes the source is the toilet tank which he believes needs to be replaced.  I have a call in to the management company; hopefully they will kill the beast.  The guest bathroom is also very small.  (Guests might want to bring a robe or leave their modesty behind.)  The toaster, coffeemaker and electric teakettle can be described as “gross.”  I can live without a toaster and a teakettle, but a coffeemaker is essential to my well being, so I purchased an inexpensive version.  I also replaced the clothes-drying rack.  I think I’m almost done with such purchases, but I am contemplating buying an inexpensive iron.  I have a washer/dryer that is one unit.  The dryer function does a little drying, but many items come out damp and desperately wrinkled; they need to air dry to a greater or lesser extent.   No one knows me here.  Yet.  So walking around in wrinkled clothes doesn’t sound too horrible, but soon I expect to want to look like I take some care.

      I found the apartment hunt quite stressful.  I learned that many people are searching for apartments this time of year as the academic year is about to begin and the local university students move back to town.  Kevin was a great balance; he viewed the process as a hunt or a game to be won.  I’m grateful because I probably would have rented one of the first places I saw just to have the decision made.  Instead, I am living in a place beyond my imagination.

      Here are some photos of the inside of the apartment.  You will note that some of the apartment is quite modern and a few pieces of furniture are "country style."

Guest bedroom

Kitchen

Dining area

Living Room

Master bathroom

Guest bathroom

Entryway and hallway

First meal

Master bedroom

Smelling of Guinness

I am so blessed that Kevin was with me for my first ten days in Ireland.  Both Kevin and I had very busy summers; it was lovely to have this extended time together.  Kevin was helpful in every way.  When I was stressed out about the apartment hunt and taking a “bird in the hand” approach, he encouraged me to hold out for the right place. 

But I am ahead of myself…  Our flight to Dublin arrived a little early.  I expected to breeze through customs, but the immigration officer, who seemed skeptical of my reason for entering the country, questioned me extensively and asked for documentation of my claims.  The officer took my picture and wrote in my passport that I needed to report to the Guarda (police) station in Galway within a month to register with Immigration and receive “permission to remain.”  This did not come as a surprise as my research indicated that I would need to do this and I had received a “permit to stay” in Florence seven years ago.  Still, I found the experience unsettling and it increased my empathy for immigrants—if I was nervous when I had little to loose, how much more so those who have so much more at stake.

The rest of our arrival story is a tale of luck and magic.  We practically waltzed from the terminal onto a bus that took us straight to Galway.  When we got off the bus we were surprised to find ourselves across the street from the hotel we were staying at for the first few nights.  This was especially lucky as I was travelling with quite a lot of baggage.   No need to call a cab!

I was only in Galway about an hour when I bought a cell phone.  I knew I would buy a phone quickly, but the purchase felt impulsive.  It turned out to be a very good decision because we needed to give a phone number to apartment brokers in order to make appointments to see listings.  I bought the cheapest phone available and am using a “pay as you go” system, which I like very much.

Kevin and I were exhausted, but we hoped to stay awake as long as possible (7:00 PM was our goal).  We found a pub, The King’s Head, in the nearby Latin Quarter.  The King’s Head has been in existence since the 13^th century.  On the advice of NWU Board of Governor’s member, Judith Maurer, I ordered the West Coast Atlantic Fish Chowder.  Heavenly!  When our drinks were delivered (water only), the waitress spilled some Guinness on me.  She felt terrible about it, but I was tickled.  Why not smell of Guinness within hours of arrival in Ireland?

We walked around town as long as felt possible and were asleep by about 6:00 PM.  We both slept about twelve hours and woke the next day ready to tackle the apartment hunt.  

Ready to go at the Lincoln airport (picture by Mary Hawk, airport drop-off-er extraordinaire)

Leaving Home

When I buckled my seat belt on the first of three planes that would take me from Lincoln, Nebraska to Galway, Ireland, I felt like I had already accomplished a great deal.  Though my sabbatical was only just beginning, I had worked for months just to prepare to start the physical journey.

My biggest job was to prepare my house for my three renters, Mishayla, Sarah and Jenna, seniors at Nebraska Wesleyan who will call my house “home” this year.  I hired a contractor to put an egress window in my basement and build a wall to create a safe bedroom so each person could have her own room.  I started the process early, but the project wasn’t completed until four days before I left the country.  I also spent hours packing all my personal belongings; this allowed me to purge a great deal of clothing and other items.  I lost track of how many trips I took to The Good Neighbor Center and Goodwill.  Each time I left bags or boxes, I felt lighter and happier.  Even after all the drop-offs, I still have a basement full of bins and boxes that I will have to unpack when I return.

Finished egress window

Basement storage

As I reflected on the preparations for my first sabbatical (Florence, Italy 2004-2005), I noted some differences.  Though I attended to a lot of the same details, the mental, psychological and emotional preparation felt quite different.

Technology has advanced a great deal in the last seven years making it easier to stay in touch.  I find the prospect of Skype conversations and Internet in my apartment comforting as I leave my loved ones.  But technology doesn’t replace the impromptu conversations, lunches, dinners, dates and just being together sharing the little and big parts of each other’s lives on a regular basis.  I am looking forward to Skype “dates” with my boyfriend, but no one could argue it’s identical to being in the same room.

Last sabbatical, I worried about my house more than I did this time.  I also hated the thought of missing what was going on at work.  Thankfully, I have found my own experience of returning from Italy as well as years of watching faculty step back into their work lives comforting.  However, it is hard to consider missing the senior year of some students I have grown close to for two or three years; they only have one senior year. 

When I went to Italy I was completely, utterly alone.  While I wasn’t lonely, I had no one to rely on but myself.  Each time I left my apartment I triple-checked that I had my apartment keys.  In the beginning, I barely took a step that wasn’t charted on my Florence City map.  This time my boyfriend, Kevin, travelled with me to Galway and spent ten days helping me find and set up an apartment and learn the lay of the land.  I was able to relax and rely on someone else.  I speak the language here in Ireland and I did not in Italy (unless you call asking where the bathroom is and knowing how to order bread and red wine speaking the language), so the settling in was likely to be less anxiety-producing, but having Kevin with me made all the difference.