My flight from Newark to Dublin arrived just a tad bit late, thanks to an uncooperative (and drunk) passenger who refused to wear a facemask. We had already left the gate waiting for takeoff when the pilot made an announcement that there was a “mechanical issue” that required us to taxi back. The pilot, by the way, was an American woman… one of the few I’ve ever had on a flight. After the passenger was off the plane, she then explained the full situation saying that the “mechanical issue” announcement was an attempt not to inflame the person further.
The business class section was much less full that the SFO-Newark flight, on which I believe every seat was taken. I’m not sure how full economy/coach was. I managed to get some sleep after fidgeting with the seat controls, adjusting the pillows and blanket, putting on my CPAP under my facemask, switching to my noise cancelation headphones, and eventually removing my shoes so I could stretch my feet out entirely. The morning service was a bit rushed due to the pilot making up time. The airport was like a ghost town. We landed around 7:30am just as dawn was breaking, and I saw the seaside village of Howth out my window.
I was expecting rain, but it was partly cloudy, and as I stepped off the plane on to the gateway, a brisk air welcomed me to a new climate. After the long walk down the concourse (which for international arrivals is on an upper level above the regular concourse; quite well designed) and a brief stop at the restroom to pop in my contact lenses, I came onto the large immigration hall that was empty. A man in front of me in the EU line wasn’t aware of the COVID locator form that was required for entry and had to go back to a kiosk/island to complete it, so I basically had no wait. The immigrations officer looked at my passport, the COVID locator form receipt I had printed, asked me to lower my facemask, and then I was let through. The baggage claim area was similarly lifeless, except for the couple dozen or so passengers from our flight. Only the area around our luggage carousel was lit, the rest of the baggage claim hall was dark. Unused luggage carts (aka trolleys) were amassed in one corner, and I took one for the pile of bags (cases) I was to collect. We waited probably 15 minutes for the conveyer belt to start up. While I was waiting, I texted my landlord and the driver I had shrewdly decided to hire before takeoff in Newark to help with my bags. All 4 checked bags came through intact.
Pushing through the automatic arrival doors, I instantly spotted my driver as the only one holding up an arrivals sign among sparse greeters. We walked to the parking garage, and he loaded up everything into the back of a Mercedes minibus/van. His name was Will, and we struck up a banter that lasted the 1.5 hours we were together… talking mostly about COVID, the lighter traffic in Dublin since the pandemic, the tourist industry, the orange skies in SF due to the wildfires, politics, Irish reunification, the varying accents in different parts of town, etc. A mild parade of pedestrians and bicyclists were performing their morning commute, and I didn’t observe anyone wearing facemasks. Will explained that facemasks aren’t required out in public, only in shops, but even then there is not rigid enforcement — people just go about their business without confronting any maskless patrons. At one point I asked his age, he said 48, so only slightly older than I. We reached Temple Bar around 8:30 AM, but I still hadn’t heard from my landlord Ciarán. We found Crow Street but the address was uncertain. We sat for 1/2 hour bantering away. My clothes were feeling sweaty and stuffy from the overnight flight. Eventually Ciarán called, explaining he was expecting me to phone him not text (despite me confirming that communication method the day before). He asked to speak to the driver, to whom he gave directions on where to find the building. We backed up Crow Street to a green door, and once Ciarán appeared down the street, Will unloaded the luggage and we bumped elbows in friendly parting.
Ciarán appeared more or less as I expected him, from the small thumbnail on his WhatsApp profile, with grey hair but slimmer build that I had pictured. He lead me in and up the two (2.5?) flights of stairs, taking two of my smaller cases and waiting for me to lug the others up, which left me out of breath and feeling even more swampy in my clothes. We walked down the outside balcony hallway to #21. All the apartment doors have round windows, reminiscent of portholes. At the end of the outside balcony hallway was a garden of sorts complete with trellises (one of which is positioned before the entrance to my place). The apartment looked very much as it had in the photos, although I hadn’t been sure about the proportions. My first impression was how bright it was thanks to the west-facing windows in the main living area. The place is clean, modern, simple. Ciarán explained how to turn on the water heater and that the Internet WiFi box was yet to be delivered, but should be today or tomorrow. He was very personably and friendly, told me I should not hesitate to call/text him even with stupid questions, and more than once mentioned that we should meet up for lunch or coffee at some point soon.
Once Ciarán departed, I set about unpacking my cases and putting things away, then storing the cases on top of the wardrobes in each bedroom. It went much faster and took much less effort than when I had packed them. Next I took a shower. There are small quirks about the apartment I am already discovering, such as having no electrical outlet in the bathroom for a hairdryer etc. And the bathroom mirror is hung at a height that completely cuts me off at the neck. The bathroom is adequately spaced, but compact without much storage. I’ve started a list of household items to help organize things. After showering, I called to Mail Boxes Etc. to arrange for delivery of the 6 boxes I had shipped over the previous week after moving out of 1220 Silver… as with all my previous calls, it went to voicemail although someone actually picked up as I was leaving a message (who knew they were screening calls!). The voice on the line was Slavic sounding, and the communication was a bit jolted, but she seemed competent with arrangements for delivery of the 6 boxes that had arrived the day previously that were taking up considerable space in their location. I asked for her name at the end of the call, and she said Esther, which was much different than the Natasha or Ludmila I was expecting. She followed up to the call with a response to my email saying the boxes would be delivered after 2pm. (It was already after 12noon.)
My attention then turned toward researching online grocery delivery options, and I decided to try ValueSav that doesn’t have any locations within walking distance to my apartment, and from what I understand, is a popular and inexpensive option. The online interface was easy to use overall, and after reserving a delivery window of 9-11am the next morning, soon I had built up a cart of 150+ euros worth of grocery items… mostly easy-to-prepare things that will keep me fed while I settle in. Once that was sorted, I began searching for stores that deliver household goods/appliance that would be useful, such as extension cords/leads, a fan, a mini over (toaster oven). I tried unsuccessfully to order from Curry, an electronics/appliances store I remember seeing during past visits to Dublin, but there was an issue when I tried submitting payment (perhaps due to billing address?). The delivery would take 5+ days, so perhaps it’s for the best for me to venture out for these items tomorrow. Jet lag was beginning to take hold, so I made a cup of my favorite lemon honey ginseng tea I had brought with me in my luggage.
Then about an hour ago from now, my phone rang – it was the courier delivering the boxes. I suited up again for outside, including a facemask for good measure, and met him on the street… unfortunately, some barrier columns had been put up on the end of Crow Street since the morning when Will dropped me off, so the delivery man had to take 2 trips with a dolly to deliver all 6 boxes to building’s entrance. I had hoped he would bring them up the stairs for me, but out of embarrassment and/or pity, I didn’t press the issue and resolved to carry them up myself as atonement for my sinful materialism. (The courier’s name was Dave, and he also seemed quite chatty and friendly.) It actually wasn’t too bad, I paused on the landings as needed to catch my breath, and before I knew it all the boxes were inside. I’m not sure if I’ll crack them open tonight or leave that for tomorrow; I’ll have plenty of time to sort through everything during my 14 day self-quarantine.
All in all, I’m grateful that things have gone so smoothly with only a few mishaps, namely losing my travel CPAP while unloading my luggage in SF for the last two nights I stayed at my friend Jim’s (a costly fumble but I managed to get it replaced the day before my departure), and forgetting to remove the rental car key from my personal key ring (which at this point only had a bottle opener, the one I pinched from a hotel in Baden Baden in 2018 when visiting Olga; a pill container; and a defunct Tile locator fob with a long-ago depleted battery). My aim for the rest of the day is to stay awake as late as I can manage in order to adjust to the new time zone. I’m thinking of ordering pizza or something else easy for dinner, then hopefully groceries will arrive as scheduled tomorrow morning after which I’ll be decently provisioned.
