Our Wee Apartment

That first night, we were too exhausted to do much of anything except eat and unpack our sheets and duvet. The next day, however, began with a friendly visit from our landlord, Paul, who informed us early on in the conversation that he had lived in Boston for 12 years, but had never been to Ohio. Boston’s definitely a world away from Columbus, but despite being unconvinced of our common ground, I nodded agreeably. I’ve found that a nod and an obliging “Oh, really?” are the only appropriate responses I can give when someone from Northern Ireland tells me they’ve been to America - which really means they’ve vacationed in Florida, New York, Boston, or California. I appreciate the figurative handshake, as if to say, “Nice to meet you. I’m not like the others. I’ve been to where you live.” 

Paul then proceeded to give us a run-down (which I will repeat below) of our apartment coupled with an admonition, “Don’t leave that door open. Heat is precious. Heat is gold.”

Heating: Our apartment is heated with gas supplied by a propane tank sitting in our wee back garden. Our water is also heated by this tank, and is either freezing cold, or the temperature we’ve set for ourselves inside. When the propane in the tank runs out, the heat runs out. Which is not good. So, basically, we have to check our tank by giving it a good shake. If it’s heavy and doesn’t explode, we don’t have to pay Paul 70 pounds for another one. The tank should last us at least 6 to 8 weeks. That is, if we don’t have the temperature up to 100 F.  We were walking around pretty much naked until Paul explained that that they use Celcius over here. Now we have the heater set at a comfortable 35 C in the evenings and turn it off during the day to conserve our propane. 

That brings me to laundry: Funny that the heater should remind me of washing clothes, but we don’t have a dryer here, which is pretty standard throughout Europe. Rather than guzzle up exorbitant amounts of energy running a tumble dryer, folk in Northern Ireland hang their clothes up on the line outside. We tried this. It didn’t work. Firstly, because it rains nearly every day in Northern Ireland which makes drying wet clothes outside a challenge. Secondly, because we don’t have clothes pins and the plastic clothes pin rack we bought from Pound World snapped as soon as we hung our heavy jeans on it. So, our unmentionables are strewn over every available radiator, door knob and wardrobe door for going on 36 hours now. I’m just hoping we don’t have any company until they finish drying. Oh, and did I mention that the washers are miniature? One small  rectangular laundry basket requires potentially 4 or 5 loads - I’m not really sure yet, because the washer seems to be on 3 hour cycles and we ran out of drying space. 

Electricity: Unlike in America, where you never once think about how much electricity you are consuming until you receive a monthly bill, people here in Northern Ireland are very aware of their energy consumption. Here, we pay for our electric with a designated card, just like our cell phone. There is a panel outside the door to our flat that displays how much electricity credit we have remaining. When we get low, we run down the road to the convenience (a tiny shop in a residential neighborhood that sells essential groceries, cleaning supplies, cigarettes, etc.) where you can “top up” or add credit to your water, electric, mobile, and even pay your taxes. And every single appliance, outlet, washer, oven, lamp, etc. has its own designated switch that you have to manually flip down - the opposite direction of light switches in the States - until it displays the tiny, red word ‘ON.’ As a result, you aren’t wasteful, because you only turn on appliances when you need them. Frankly, it’s a bit of a hassle, but it seems to save money. We learned very quickly that electricity doesn’t work the same way as in the States when we had a lamp and a computer turned on at the same time and apparently blew a fuse. However, in checking the circuit breaker, nothing was labelled, and nothing had been flipped, so we are kind of at a loss for how to proceed. We now have no power in either the living room or the bedroom and are hoping that when Paul stops by again today, he will have another simple explanation. Either way, we’ve chosen to leave all of our lights off during the day to save as much money as we can.

Appliances: We don’t have a TV and don’t plan on buying one. It seems to be too much money to spend on something we won’t be able to take back to the States with us, and after a couple of hours watching TV in Belfast, I’m not sure that Ben and I would find the shows here entertaining for the right reasons. We also don’t have a dishwasher, so we wash all of our dishes by hand after every meal. We don’t have a garbage disposal, which means the trash must be taken out every day to avoid unpleasant odors. Speaking of unpleasant odors, despite numerous containers of baking soda, our fridge has a pungent smell of sour, rotten milk, and cooling and freezing plastic from where the cleaning staff accidentally switched it off before we moved in. The fridge is the size of a mini fridge in the States, which is typical here, and fine by us, because since we don’t have a car, and the food here doesn’t contain many preservatives (if at all), even if we were able to carry enough food back to our apartment to fill our entire fridge, it would all go bad (or “go off” here) before we’d had a chance to eat it. Basically, this means we are required to make very frequent trips to the grocery store.

Groceries: We have tried shopping at Super Value, TESCO and the convenience for our groceries and are still unsure of which chain has the best prices. Right now, TESCO is definitely winning on quality, as we discovered when we opened a jar of jam from the convenience and it was covered in mold. We have cooked almost every meal for ourselves since we arrived, again in an effort to be economical. This week, we bought a loaf of bread, six eggs, a quart of milk, a carton of butter, a zucchini (“courgette” here), a sack of small boiling potatoes, a carton of mushrooms, asparagus, three onions, a package of roma tomatoes, salt, pepper, coffee, pasta, pasta sauce, a package of chicken breast, a carton of juice, mayo w/sweet chili flavor (kind of like chipotle mayo back home), lunch meat, cheese, yogurt, strawberries, blueberries, cooking oil, tomato soup and jam for about 60 pounds. We are trying to spend around 50 pounds a week and think we should be able to budget better next week now that we have a few things to start out with.

Furniture: Our matching couch and armchair deserve their own subheading because they are truly something out of legend. We have nicknamed them “The Mexican Nacho Fiesta couches,” as they are a hideous blend of burnt brick red-orange, faded maize yellow, navy blue, and rose pink in wide, wavy horizontal stripes. Their large armrests and gripping wooden toes seem to shout, “Look at me! I am the world’s most hideous couch! EVER.” Ben and I decided immediately that they must be hidden. Especially because the living room is the only room we have to eat in, and the sight of these couches was making me as nauseous as the flight to Heathrow. Finding a slipcover was an adventure that took us on foot to three stores in Belfast, online to many internet vendors who do not ship covers to the UK, and eventually, on a 2 and a half hour bus and taxi ride to our friendly, neighborhood, IKEA, all the way in Belfast. Finally, the Mexican Nacho Fiesta couches have been exterminated. 

Decorations: The rooms themselves are a good size, but one thing that was definitely lacking was warmth. Ben and I spent the entire first week trekking around Derry buying decorations and essential homewares for the apartment. At nearly every store, the sales people seemed bent on discouraging us from purchasing anything. Ben and I would discuss an item we liked together, and one of the sales people, in an attempt to be helpful would tell us it was “much too dear” and that we really wanted something else - that we didn’t really want a curtain, or slipcovers for the couch. Despite their best efforts, Ben and I managed to find very nice things at a reasonable price. Nevertheless, it was apparent that our money doesn’t travel very far in Northern Ireland and what would have taken a few hours to buy in the States took a week because we went everywhere on foot and carried everything ourselves, selecting and purchasing items without shopping carts (which are pretty much nonexistent here). One of our first steps was to purchase some shades for our ceiling lights, which were simply bare bulbs hanging from the ceilings when we first arrived. We then purchased: 4 pillows for the couches, 2 table lamps, 2 standing picture frames, a few scented candles, a decorative candlestick with tall dinner candles, a piece of wall art, curtains for the bedroom and living room, a curtain rod (“curtain pole” here, also on our trip to IKEA, as it is unavailable in almost any home furnishings store over here), a couple of baskets for our stuff, a dish drying rack, a hamper, 4 sturdy wooden hangers, 2 trash cans, a set of screwdrivers, a hammer, a picture hanging kit, a blanket for the couch, and a partridge in a pear tree.

Clothing: So far, our search for clothes has been pretty unsuccessful. We came to Northern Ireland with a 50 lb. suitcase a piece and quickly discovered that we have hardly anything to wear. Since we needed to make a trip to Belfast anyway in order to go to IKEA, we decided to kill two birds with one stone and try to go shopping at Castle Court on a Saturday. Bad idea. All of Northern Ireland appeared to be at that mall. There was a long line (or “queue” to get into some stores, and it was nearly impossible to look at anything because Ben and I were constantly in the way. Rather than say ‘Excuse Me,’ people just  stared at us as if we were doing something wrong, which we might have been. After all, we wouldn’t know any differently. It’s difficult to get a gauge on women’s fashion here. There are a lot of looks that we don’t have in the States, in particular, the British indie vibe, which is simply nonexistent back home. And it’s difficult to tell which stores are age appropriate. I saw stores carrying clothes I might like and began shopping, realizing a few minutes later that everyone else in the store was over 40. Sitting at Subway (which is everywhere over here, I might add), trying to calm my nerves, Ben and I noticed that young women here tend to dress either like flight attendants, hookers, or 14-year-olds and sometimes a mixture of all three. Even the hair and makeup are different. Girls walked by with mountains of teased, ratty hair and heavy lipstick and seemed to be in the norm. After trying on dress after dress in varying shades of brick red, mustard yellow, teal and brown at store after store, I quickly realized that finding something flattering in my size was a rather tall order. At home, I’m an 8 maximum, and a 6 or a small in many stores. In Northern Ireland, I couldn’t fasten a size 12. Any larger, and I would potentially have to shop in the plus sizes. At this point, I felt very defeated. Ben ended up purchasing a warmer coat for himself, and I found a pair of comfortable shoes to walk in that didn’t instantly single me out as an American. At least we didn’t walk away empty-handed.

Banking: We have had numerous difficulties opening a bank account here in Northern Ireland. Before we left, I researched all of the identifying documents I would need to provide to demonstrate that I am a credible client for a bank in Northern Ireland, and to show that I have a good credit history. I brought my passport, bank statements for the past couple of months, direct deposits slips from the past several months, my confirmation of enrollment from the university, and our lease agreement. All of this information, has proven insufficient. While my passport will suffice as my proof of identity, none of the documents I own provide proof of a UK address, which is something difficult to obtain in Northern Ireland. Ben and I don’t have utility bills, and since I’m an international student, my offer letter was emailed to me, rather than mailed to my address in Northern Ireland. Further, since we rent from a private landlord, our lease doesn’t come from the Northern Ireland Housing Executive, and can’t be accepted as an official document. After a short meeting with a friendly bank staffperson, Monica, we determined that the only way for me to open an account is to have the university mail (“post”) my letter of acceptance to my address here in the UK. Then, I will have both a letter of reference and a proof of address, which should be sufficient to open a student account. I will not, however, be able to open a personal account, or a joint account with Ben, since Ben will not be able to provide any official documentation verifying his address. Monica did mention that after about a month or so, we could return and try to open a joint account in Ben’s name. Until we open an account, however, it may be difficult for Ben to get a National Insurance Number (the UK’s version of a Social Security Number) or to obtain work, but we are hopeful that the university will be able to help us out and that Ben can list my student account information on any job applications until he is added to the account. Unfortunately, until this account is opened, Ben and I also won’t be able to get a monthly mobile or internet plan from Vodafone, both of which require a UK bank account to authorize a credit check.

Despite all of these difficulties, however, Ben and I are very, very happy together. We love being married and we love the life we have chosen here in Northern Ireland. We are just trying to rely on God and each other and are so grateful for the opportunity we have to depend on one another for our needs. We are optimistic that everything will be sorted out eventually, and just praying that things are sorted out sooner, rather than later.

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.

Introduction

Welcome to the pure, unadulterated webloggings of Elaine Joy, a Rotary Ambassadorial Scholar assigned to L’Derry, Northern Ireland, chronicling my transition to life, marriage and academia overseas.

Those of you who know me well, or have even stalked me on Facebook a little, probably realize by now that I travel. A lot. It kind of comes with the territory of being an International Studies major, but I took things to the extreme when I decided to not only do comparative study of youth violence in South Africa and Northern Ireland for my undergraduate Honors Thesis, but to travel there on my own and conduct both independent research and volunteer work. If you followed any of my previous blogs, then you know that this involved tracking down and interviewing a variety of fabulous individuals over the course of more than two years, including gang members and children of IRA volunteers. And, again, if you know me at all, you know that I wouldn’t have signed up for any of this unless I could somehow ‘scholarship’ my way there - As in, see the world for free. 

So, during my junior year at OSU, after returning from South Africa and in the middle of a semester abroad in Northern Ireland, I decided to apply for the Rotary Ambassadorial Scholarship so that I could return to Northern Ireland and get my MA in Peace and Conflict Studies from the University of Ulster in Derry. Inevitably, when I mention that I will be majoring in Peace Studies to anyone in the United States, questions like ‘What can you do with that degree?’ or ‘Is that an accredited program?’ immediately follow. There seems to be an attitude from some that I must just be taking a year off abroad, perhaps ‘sowing my wild oats’ until I figure out my life. 

I would like to take this opportunity to assure everyone that this program is not only accredited, but is one of the best in the world in this field. The professors at this university literally wrote the book on the impact of violence in Northern Ireland on young people and on truth and reconciliation after violence in Northern Ireland and South Africa. Basically, this is the perfect place for me to be, and it’s somewhere I have wanted to study for a very, very long time. I am truly just honored that they would even want to accept me, and honestly believe that there is nothing more worthwhile I could be doing with my life at this moment.

Receiving the Rotary Ambassadorial Scholarship has been the vehicle that made this dream a reality for me. It is a flat grant of 26,000 USD which is given to me, the scholar, to budget for my tuition and living expenses for a nine month period of study abroad. It is awarded at the district level, typically to one outstanding scholar per Rotary District. Receiving the scholarship is a series of Kafkaesque steps ranging from interviews with local rotary clubs, personal statements, letters of recommendation, and interviews at the District level, all culminating with a phone call, a gospel chorus ‘Yes’ or a soul-crushing ‘No.’ My first phone call was the soul-crushing variety. I was the alternate. Until my district pooled for more funding so that they could offer me a second scholarship.

In exchange, I’m required to deliver one presentation to my sponsoring Rotary Club, the Gallipolis Rotary Club, before I depart, ten to fifteen presentations to clubs in Northern Ireland while I am over here, and one presentation to the Gallipolis Rotary Club when I return. In addition, I will complete a community service project in Northern Ireland involving local Rotarians, attend Rotary orientation in the United States and in Ireland, attend local Rotary Club meetings, keep a blog of my travels, communicate with my sponsoring club in the States, and report my progress to the Rotary Foundation, all while taking classes towards receiving my MA in Peace and Conflict Studies. Piece of cake.

Oh - and did I mention that I got engaged? My then-boyfriend, Ben Joy and I took a leap of faith and decided to plan a wedding, get married, and plan a move to another country  - all over a short, 28-day period. So, as you may have gathered from the beginning of this introduction, the wedding somehow came together in the midst of all of this, and I am now Mrs. Elaine Joy, Rotary Ambassadorial Scholar.