Moving to Derry aka. “The-Not-So-Honeymoon Period”

Moving to Derry aka. “The-Not-So-Honeymoon Period”

When you first arrive in a new country, you experience what those who’ve travelled (even more than I have) refer to as “the honeymoon period.” The fabulous sights, exotic smells, odd people and sometimes, foreign language of your new place are exciting, rather than overwhelming. You perceive the difference between home and wherever you’ve travelled as quaint, amusing, or interesting, rather than simply irritating. This is all because, in the first couple of weeks that you’ve arrived in a new country, you are still on vacation.

Typically, then, after about three weeks in your new country (although this can occur sooner rather than later), the honeymoon ends and “culture shock” sets in. The lifestyle of your new home, the habits of the people here which you once wrote home about and laughed at with your folks are now frustrating and an impediment to the way of life you were accustomed to. The people, who were simply a little odd before, are now hostile and purposefully setting roadblocks in the way of your transition. The language barrier, if there is one (and there always is one), is determined to give you daily migraines and turn basic tasks - like choosing shampoo or buying food from the grocery store - into monstrous undertakings. Simple chores like doing laundry and washing dishes become day-long nightmares. Above all, no matter how you’ve prepared, you feel completely ill-equipped to handle life in your new country and more than once, the thought crosses your mind, “Can I just go home where things make sense?”

But if you persevere, something wonderful can happen. You can actually live in a foreign country. You can prove to yourself that you can adapt, and survive in a new place. By experiencing how others live, you learn that the way you always did things before isn’t the only way to do things, and isn’t even always the best way. You are reliant upon ‘things’ much less than before, and don’t take the conveniences of home for granted. Above all, you learn more about yourself than you ever could laying poolside in Myrtle Beach. A vacation doesn’t reveal your character. Living in a foreign country, however, you are forced to confront all of your inadequacies and strive to compensate for them.

I’ve been through the honeymoon, culture shock, and survivor stages of traveling three times now, even though the trips were over different lengths of time. In Paris and South Africa, it took about two weeks for culture shock to set in. The last time I was in Northern Ireland, I lasted about three. 

It was only fitting, then, that in this move to Northern Ireland, on the day after I got married, I would skip the honeymoon phase entirely and jump straight into culture shock. This is because, rather than going through lengthy orientations led by smiling locals, participating in local homestays and sightseeing for the first couple of weeks, Ben and I leapt right into starting a life in a new country.

Nevertheless, Northern Ireland and I must have parted on good terms because the airport gods were smiling down upon me. Aside from not being able to sleep on the plane and three hours of intense nausea before we landed at London Heathrow, the journey to Belfast was pretty uneventful. We collected all our bags, exchanged our money and picked up our car rental without incident.

The fun began when we climbed into the Peugeot. The car rental attendant informed us it was a “large car,” but seeing that it was much smaller than even a mini-SUV in the States, Ben and I thought we could handle it. First, we had trouble disengaging the e-brake, which was apparently automatic, even though everything else in the car was manual. Then, my directions proved useless when we couldn’t find the first road GoogleMaps was telling us to head southwest on. Practically slapping myself for not renting a GPS, or “SatNav” as they are called here, Ben and I proceeded to go the wrong direction for about ten minutes, until we decided to turn around. 

Having no clue which road we were on, and a vague map showing a road that for all we knew, didn’t exist, I attempted to navigate to an area of the city I had never been to before based on my limited recollection of tourist landmarks I’d visited over a year ago. All the while, our Peugeot barreled down the ‘wrong side of the road’ sideswiping other cars, guardrails and potentially small children (we couldn’t really see), weaving around roundabouts (basically operating under the same traffic guidelines as town squares, aka. none), and pulling U-turns because European cities are NEVER constructed on a grid. Two lefts and we were lost for half an hour until we happened to stumble upon something familiar, and found our hotel.

Since we’d booked early, Ben and I were upgraded to an entire suite, which was basically a furnished apartment with two bedrooms and three beds, a bathroom, a nice, fitted kitchen, and a large living room. We’d splurged a little since it was our first night in Belfast, and the Malone Lodge definitely exceeded our expectations. Dinner there was wonderful. I ordered the “Roast of the Day” - gammon, which I forgot refers to ham steak in the UK, but it turned out delicious. Ben had the “Catch of the Day,” a delicious salmon in cream sauce. We took our time, unhurried, determined not to eat like Americans, who in comparison, dine and dash. 

Ben even made a friend - while taking a pee in the bathroom. An odd place to start a conversation, but maybe that’s how they do things around here. When Ben told him we were staying in Derry, he apologized on behalf of Northern Ireland. Then, on a sidenote, he added, “There aren’t very many black people over here, are there?” to which Ben simply replied, “No, I’m used to seeing a lot more.” Apparently, sound effects for number twos are also perfectly acceptable, Ben informs me.

The next day, we began shopping for our apartment at Castle Court Shopping Centre and Victoria Square in Belfast. Castle Court is a two-tier shopping mall, while Victoria Square is basically a pedestrian shopping area of the city. We purchased as many essentials as we could, filling the entire backseat of our monstrous Peugeot, knowing that, without the car in Derry, we would have to lug the rest of our home furnishings (homewares here) on foot back to our apartment. We purchased: pillows, a duvet (the inside of a comforter, they rarely sell comforter sets here, and if they do, they are much more expensive), one set of pillowcases, one set of sheets and a duvet cover, two mugs, four bowls, four salad plates, and four dinner plates, a pack of six drinking glasses, a can opener, salad spoons, a vegetable peeler, four knifes, four forks, a set of cutting knifes, a set of cooking utensils, a set of three saucepans, a baking sheet, a roasting pan, a collander, a wok, a bathmat, one bath towel, two hand towels and two washcloths, shampoo and conditioner, deodorant, a hair dryer, a straightener, hangers, a clothes drying rack, an all-purpose cleaner, sponges, dish soap, hand soap, a broom and dustpan, trash bags, a set of four tupperware dishes, cling wrap, aluminum foil, dish rags, kitchen towels and paper towels. 

We began at Pound World, and purchased all of our toiletries, cleaning supplies, and many of our kitchen utensils and products there for only one pound a piece. Then we moved to the home furnishings sections at the larger department stores, Dunnes and Debenhams, where we bought only items on sale. We purchased my hair dryer and straightener at Boots (basically their version of CVS) and finally, we visited the Vodafone shop to discuss cell phone plans. The specialist there was very nice and went over all of our different options for mobile coverage with us. He seemed very familiar to working with foreigners, and pleased that we at least spoke the same language.

Cell phone, or ‘mobile’ plans as they’re called here, are very different from in the States. Here, many people choose a pay-as-you-go plan, where you purchase a basic phone and a SIM (a memory chip that goes into the back of your phone) and pay for only the minutes you use, ‘topping up’ or adding credit manually to your SIM by purchasing credit at any convenience store every time you are running low. You can get nicer phones on this plan, but they are much more expensive. This option is much easier for people traveling through or foreigners who don’t have proof of a permanent address in the UK. Ben went with this option, purchasing an inexpensive phone to get us started that doesn’t have data coverage, but can text (SMS here) or call just fine. Basically, without a proof of address, this is the only phone Ben and I could get right away here.

Eventually, I should be able to add a Vodafone SIM card to my unlocked Blackberry and purchase a monthly plan at 15.50 GBP a month, which will provide a limited amount of data, calling and texts on the phone I already own, at less cost than topping up my phone every month. Highly economical, which is the way everything is done around here. 

Internet, rather than being part of a cable bundle, is also generally purchased through a cell phone provider, like Vodafone. Typically, you can either buy what’s called a “dongle,” a memory-stick/flash drive device that you plug into a USB port so that one computer at a time can access the internet, or purchase a small, portable wireless router that will provide access to all devices inside the home. Again, like cell phones, these are done on either a pay-as-you-go or monthly plan basis, but in order to buy the monthly plan, you must have proof of a UK address. Basically, for those of you who aren’t techie, this translates to “things don’t work the way they do in the States.” Ben and I left the store with only one working phone that we have to purchase credit for every time we run out. 

We left the shopping mall around 6 PM, finally able to call our property agent, Neil Patterson, to let him know that we had indeed arrived and were planning to drive to the apartment in Derry that night. An hour later, we had to call again to let him know that we would be late, as we had gotten lost. Again. Due to the late hour, we were to pick up the keys at his house, in an area outside of the city that I had never been to before. Nevertheless, we found his house without too much trouble and quickly signed the lease, retrieving our keys, anxious to be in our new apartment. 

Our first stop in Derry was to Romeo’s, my favorite pizza place while I was studying there last year, where we purchased all of my favorite comfort foods to welcome us into our new home: two donder wraps (the Turkish version of a gyro, I think), a 10” margherita pizza, and a banoffee pie (one of Northern Ireland’s greatest inventions - think, chilled banana and toffee on a graham cracker crust).

Then we drove around Derry for a good half an hour in the dark trying to navigate narrow one-way streets and roundabouts that spun us off in every direction except the one we were trying to travel in. Finally - miraculously - we landed on Marlborough Street and found our wee apartment.