It’s been a rather blah, boring day. The election is over (notwithstanding Trump’s legal challenges), the COVID lockdown continues in Ireland, and the banality of everyday life marches on. Over breakfast I read the news about a vaccine under development that has demonstrated 90% efficacy in clinical trials. The coincidental timing of the announcement immediately after Biden cinching the presidency is suspect to me. It seems too good to be true. Given the progression of events in 2020, I feel conditioned to wait for the other shoe to drop.
Another Amazon parcel is supposed to arrive today. I somehow missed a delivery attempt for it yesterday, so now I feel an obligation (or an excuse) to remain homebound. I spend the afternoon on a variety of small tasks, none of which is particularly productive in and of itself, but collectively they give me some sense of accomplishment — fold laundry, email the Ireland Dept of Social Protection in follow up to my PPS number application (equivalent to a SSN in the U.S.), update my LinkedIn profile to indicate I’m in Ireland now and review various alerts (none of which are important), sign up for alerts on a couple of job sites (IrishJobs.ie and PublicJobs.ie), respond in kind to the email I received last week from the Irish cousin I had contacted, start a grocery list for this week’s SuperValu online order, and probably a few other trifles I can’t recall.
The topic of today’s RTÉ Radio afternoon talk show, Liveline with Joe Duffy, is a loophole in the COVID lockdown restrictions that has enabled some beauty salons to remain open if they offer botox injections since they are administered by medical practitioners. The callers into the show are indignant; why should these non-essential businesses be allowed to remain open while everyone else suffers? It seems that “misery loves company” is the prevailing mentality, although I agree that purely elective procedures should not be exempted. Perhaps I’m biased, but skirting the rules seems to be a national pastime here in Ireland.
For lunch, I make ham and cheese “toasties” in the mini oven using the air fryer mode. Toasties are quite popular here in Ireland, at least based on my sightings of multiple food establishments dedicated to them. I think mine turn out rather well.
At long last, the Amazon delivery person calls around 5:30-6:00. I can’t understand what they’re saying due to their foreign accent (compounded by the Irish pronunciations of words). I explain my location as best I can and offer up my Eircode. This appears to have helped, as they say they are re-routing and will call me back in 5 minutes.
As I’m waiting, a young Irish woman who looks to be in her late teens or early 20s approaches me asking for help. Panhandlers are not an uncommon sight in Dublin. At first I say I don’t have anything and avoid eye contact, but she persists, so I actually look her in the eye and engage in conversation. She hears my accent and asks if I’m American. We trade a few words about the obvious topics of the U.S. election and COVID. I struggle to understand what she’s saying due to her soft voice and accent, but the gist of what she repeats over and over is that she’s homeless, has nowhere to go, and needs money to stay at a hostel. I choose to believe her, although my inner cynic is certain she is pressing me because of my nationality, and eventually I give her some money. I really don’t carry much cash, and in fact, I haven’t used an ATM once since my arrival to Ireland… the only euros I have were left over from my trip here last year. I’ve used credit cards or Apple Pay via my phone for all my purchases. Touchless payments seem much more widespread and well implemented here.
I’ve heard references to the “homelessness crisis” in Ireland, which although it’s on a much smaller scale in terms of absolute numbers when compared to other more populous countries, is a real social problem here. I haven’t dived very deep into the facts, but here’s a chart from Focus.ie, the leading organization in Ireland that addresses homelessness:
Eventually the Amazon delivery guy appears at the far end of Crow Street in a reflective yellow safety vest. He looks to me to be Pakistani? At any rate, the parcel contains a hanging shelf rack for the bathroom to hold my electric toothbrush and hairdryer near the door where I’ve routed a power strip, since there are no outlets in the bathroom itself. It’s fairly easy to assemble, sturdy, and fits the space. I’m satisfied that this solution works how I envisioned it.
I also try knocking on my neighbor Irene’s door again for a key to access the electric meters for the building, but her apartment is dark and there’s no answer. I’ll try again tomorrow, since I want to make something for dinner and settle in for the evening.
Until next time…
