Pedestrian Life and Shopping

My bike, without a shopping basket, on a recent trip to the store.

I have become a pedestrian again. It's kind of neat to walk and bike everywhere; it feels healthy. At the beginning I thought I was losing weight because of it, but then I started to eat more.
It's also a pain in the butt. Grocery shopping is done one backpack full at a time. Those water and wine bottles are heavy. I Guess I have to switch to tap water ;-) I bought a carafe with a built in water filter that turns the chlorinated, not-so-good tap water into something that I can drink. No solution in sight for the liquid relaxation therapy.
In all seriousness, shopping becomes much more challenging. You have to plan ahead when to buy toilet paper (light, but bulky), tomato sauce jars (heavy, small enough to overload a bag), and bread and cookies (take up valuable volume, and get easily crushed). For big trips, like today where I needed to refill my fridge and wanted to buy a vacuum cleaner, even more planing is needed: Go to the appliance store and figure out which model I want. Over to the grocery store and fill the backpack. Return to the appliance store, and then head over to the bus station and hope I read the time table correctly.
Weather is also a factor. I took the sunny picture above five minutes after I came out of a store and unexpectedly found these conditions:

While waiting for the rain to stop, I was thinking of adding a basket and cannopy to my bike! Things worked out on that trip, but I had others where I "failed".
There is an Ikea in Dublin, near the airport. They sell cheap to medium-prized furniture and other household items. I needed a shower curtain and rod, a shelving unit, and a few other things. To get there, I could take the bus into town and then another out to Ikea. But there is one that leaves from here, winds its way through the suburbs, and ends up near Ikea. It takes almost as long as the two-bus trip, travels only every hour and a half, but is more convenient.
I studied the map and the time tables to figure out how to do this and how long I would have in the store to make it back for the return bus. Otherwise it would be a 1.5 hour wait.
Things started to go wrong early. I used the Dublin bus planer to figure out which bus to take and what times it operated. What I didn't think of, was that the bus would continue after my stop. The trip planer map showed the route ending at my stop, but of course that was for my benefit, to highlight my journey from beginning to end; not the complete route of the bus.
So, I got off too late and had no clue which of the previous stations was the one I should have gotten off. Walking to Ikea took for ever because my cell phone showed me roads and paths that were there, but in real life had fences going across them. This is an industrial area near the airport with large fenced lots and large buildings that hide other buildings and dead-ends behind them.
I finally got to Ikea and made up lost time by being an efficient shopper. Color and shape choices can be made much quicker when you know that if you miss the bus, you'll be sitting around for 1.5 hours.
The shelfing unit I bought was rather large, but I wisely chose one that was not too heavy. At Ikea everything (well, at least the furniture) comes disassembled. Their assembly instructions are completely pictorial. One version for the whole world. You can see examples on their web page. The box with the shleving unit inside was about six feet long, but otherwise small enough that I could sort of hold it under one arm.
Then I had a large bag with all the other stuff in my other hand. I didn't get far until it all became too heavy and I had to stop and switch hands. And then again. And again.
After a while I figured out that I could put the large box on my shoulder and balance it with one arm. That way I could walk longer before I needed another break. Did I mention that the weather had to be taken into account when shopping around here as a pedestrian? There was wind. And the box exposed quite a surface to the wind; especially higher up on my shoulder. Not only did that thing get heavier and heavier, now it was also pushing me all over the sidewalk.
Since I had gotten off at the wrong bus stop, I didn't know where the closest station was or how to get there. I had planed to just walk back where I did get off, to play it save. Because of the frequent stops to redistribute the weight and catch my breath, this took much longer than anticipated, and of course I missed my bus.
Taxis are everywhere in Dublin. Especially near bus stations because they know that the Dublin bus drivers hate passengers. The stranded ones wave down a taxi. It was a little bit more difficult for me with my six-foot box, but I finally saw a taxi-van and got his attention. Fifteen minutes and twenty Euros later I was back home with my hard-earned purchases. Next time I'll be less chintzy and plan for the taxi ride home from the start.

I am beginning to learn which store chains sell what and where they are. Especially the grocery stores are completely unfamiliar to me. There are several German chains that have themselves established here and it is kind of funny to see things labeled in German with Irish-English translations next to them. Around where I live, there are several stores to choose from. Some excel through their proximity, others through their bread, and another for their Simply Better Luxury Muesli! More careful planing necessary to figure out which store to visit on what trip.

This is really good!

Although there are many brands available that are the same, or at least similar to what I'm used to from the US, there are new things to learn in that area as well. Most of it is pretty straight forward. You buy one. If you like it you go for more, and if not you try to remember the brand and avoid it in the future. Ireland is not exotic, so for most things that is not difficult, but there are few surprises.
Once in a while I do stumble across something that I haven't seen before. For example, these mansize Kleenex tissues:

Of course I bought some, being a man and all. The regular (womansize? ;-) ones are the ones we have in the States, except they are thicker here.

Powerless

When I came home Wednesday evening, I had a note addressed to the previous tenant of my apartment in my mail box.  It said that power had been turned off because the bill had not been paid. I thought this better not be true, but when I came upstairs into the apartment it looked like this:

A few weeks ago I had signed a contract with Airtricity, one of the power and gas providers available. The company who actually owns the wires and sends out electricians to turn power on and off is ESB Networks, the former government owned provider. Until this Wednesday I thought it was cool to have multiple providers and was going to blog about how much better Ireland is where I can choose among multiple companies to deliver broadband (there are at least four), gas (two), electricity (two or three), phone (a bunch), etc. The hardest part seemed to be to figure out who delivered what. Vodafone, and maybe Eircom, seem straightforward enough, but what do O2, Sky, Bord Gais, ESB, and UPC deliver? It turns out that, as with Airtricity, in many cases they give you more than one thing: electricity and gas, phone and broadband, TV and broadband, etc.

The Airtricity sales guy proudly told me that they could provide cheaper service than ESB, which owns the wires, because Ireland has abolished state-run monopolies. When I called him Wednesday night from my dark apartment, he sounded less reassuring and said he would sort it out in the morning with the land lord and ESB. (The Irish are always "sorting things out".)
I had come home early to get some exercise done and then continue work, so I needed power. I called the number on the disconnection notice. I told the guy that I am the new tenant and that this was a mistake. He told me that all I had to do was to fax them a copy of the contract and they would determine whether I was lying or not; and then sort it out. (He wasn't quite accusing me to be a lier, but came close.)

The land lord needed a copy of the disconnection notice, while I was at the convention center. I love smart phones ;-)

Never mind that I don't have a fax machine, I reminded him that I had no electricity. He helpfully told me that post offices provide that service. Since it was long after any post office had been open, he told me, after prompting, that some off-license stores (stores that sell alcohol to go; I already knew about those ;-) also have faxes. I knew this was pointless, but I offered brightly to get that done right away and asked at what time later tonight I might expect to have power restored. Of course the answer was definitely not tonight, the electrician has gone home, and no promises about tomorrow either.
I left a few more angry messages with various people, unhooked the front lights on my bike, and went to bed reading a book by the glow of my bicycle LEDs. In the morning I had to get up and go to city center to the convention center where IBM was hosting an internal, all-day event. I had to sneak out and use break time to call ESB, Airtricity, my land lord, the sales guy, and fax in my contract.

The tilted cylinder behind the lamp post is Dublin's convention center.

 

Airtricity called back and said they could not accept the contract. I had to sign a new contract. And pay a reconnection fee.
I told her I did not understand. The contract said Airtricity on it. The sales guy's business card said Airtricity on it. I was talking to an Airtricity representative. What exactly about my contract could they not accept? And, if there was no previous contract, why was there a RE-connection fee?
Back to the sales guy and fill his voice mail box with a number of urgent calls. He was sitting with the land lord at the apartment complex, on the phone with Airtricity and ESB. He says I should have power tonight when I get home. The land lord says I will have power when I get home tonight. Sharon, the customer service rep says it usually takes 24 to 48 hours; and there is a reconnection fee. I go ballistic on her and she connects me with her boss.
I can live two evenings in a row without electricity, but I know that if I don't have power back up on Friday, it wont happen until the middle of next week. This is Ireland after all. Her boss starts talking to me about a new contract and a reconnection fee. And I tell him that the world will end, if I don't have power today.
Back at the workshop I explain to my colleagues from work my three-pronged strategy: Give the supplier, the sales guy, and my land lord hell. Keep calling them (I spent 30 Euros on Thursday out of my prepay plan) and assure them that later at night from the darkness of my apartment there will not be much else to do for me other than to keep them awake. Make sure each individually thinks they are the sole source of my misery.
The last session at the workshop is a motivational speaker. He was good and used a scale from 0 to 10 to measure how you feel emotionally at various times of the day and throughout your life. He said 2 was when you feel miserable, but not quite bad enough to not enjoy telling other people how bad you felt. That was me all day Thursday. I don't usually tell people off in a very serious voice (I think), but Thursday I cleared my system.
Of course, when I came home, there was still no power. When there is no power here, nothing works. Water pressure comes from an electric pump. Without it, it takes several minutes to fill a glass of water. The water is heated with gas, but that doesn't turn on without the electric thermostat working. The gas stove has an electric blower that needs to be on...

Keith, the manager guy told me that I had to be reachable by phone and near the apartment, when the electrician would come by to reconnect me on Friday. My cell phone that hasn't been charged in a while and had been used a lot lately, was near empty. Keith said, if I miss the call that was it; there would be only one attempt to reach me and reconnect power. I knelt on his chest (figuratively) and told him that things can go wrong (I frequently miss calls because I do something wrong with my phone or don't hear it) but I needed him to assure me that power would be back Friday. He said: be there.
Friday morning, eating breakfast, wishing for electricity for my Nespresso machine, my phone beeps. 29 cents of credit left, and I should "top up" soon. I even get four Euros for free, if I do it right now at vodafone.ie! There must be a way to do it over the phone. There is, if you set it up beforehand at vodafone.ie! This is the first time where actual panic begins to set in. I'm beginning to slide along my scale from 2 towards that 0. Then the phone rings and it is the electrician. Of course, I only understand every fifth word or so: "Rolf", "Parnell", "Electr&@#$", "Home", "10". Yes, I'm here, thank you, please, thank you, and I hope my phone lasts long enough. Turns out, incoming calls are free!

It all requires electricity.

Huge guy shows up, shoves a big fuse into the distributor station downstairs, tells me I'm the second Swiss he met this week, and takes off. Why exactly I had to be here for that, I'm not sure. Him or his friend, were able to disconnect me the other day just fine; without me.

The lights are back on.

On the way to work I made sure the land lord saw me throw away a big bag of rotten food from my fridge and freezer. (Most of the bag was full with stuff that had accumulated anyway. My fridge seldom holds more than some butter, milk, and a few yogurts.) But I don't think he is entirely faultless in this fiasco. Since the electricity company could not get a hold of the previous renters, they waned him to pay the 45 Euros that were outstanding. He says that is not his duty, and he never saw the notices sent to the previous tenant anyway. Right.

Each outlet in Ireland has a separate on/off switch.

Pictures

I've been meaning to say this. When I upload pictures here, Google actually grabs the whole thing, not just the image size you see on the blog. You can click on them and it will give you the full resolution image.
I didn't realize that, until about a week ago. (All this newfangled technology... ;-)

The Oath of a Rat

I know I didn't say anything more about stupid Ironmen after I hinted I would in my previous post. I ran out of time and energy last night. I will, real soon. In the meantime, I continued my training with a Friday evening easy bike ride. As usual, I ended up somewhere other than I had planed.

I had seen signs to the town of Ratoath on previous journeys, but knew nothing about it. Since I was close, and needed a couple more miles, I decided to go check it out. It looks like a nice, clean, and active little town. On my way through it, I saw the above tower and took a picture. Back home I found out that this is a quite old cemetery, which probably has another, even older cemetery underneath it. You can get a partial list of the current inhabitants (and a picture from a different angle) at this web site.
It turns out the town's name has nothing to do at all with rats or oaths, as wikipedia explains. But, they do have an Olive Garden that serves Guinness!

Enniskerry

Dublin and its surroundings are pretty flat. Which is great for people like me who really don't like running or biking up steep hills. Except I'm training for an Ironman in Switzerland where they don't have enough room for flat, horizontal spaces.
South of Dublin are the Wicklow mountains and I decided to ride there last Sunday to work on my hill training. I didn't expect much in terms of difficulties, since the tallest mountain in Ireland is on the order of 3000 ft (1000m). For good measure I extended my planed route to include a view of the ocean at Cliff Manor, which looked interesting on the map.
Indeed, these "mountains" are not very tall, but when the Irish stray from the flat, they go straight up. The distances where they are steep are not very long, but they are truly steep. I was tempted several times to get off my my bike and walk and push it. Except that I didn't think it would feel that much better and I want to be an Ironman. (Which is stupid, and I'll get to that in a minute ;-)
Other than these steep parts that proved that I am not very strong (or too heavy, or both) it was a nice ride. The weather was beautiful, which means you put your rain gear on two or three times during the day and a few minutes later you sweat like a pig, because the rain had stopped and the sun was back out.
Because I live on the Northwest side of Dublin and the mountains are in the South, it is either a long detour, or straight through town to get there. Near the river, that is kind of interesting, but further out it is more tedious with all the stop lights and having to watch out for traffic and buses. Plus it's complicated. I kept stopping to check my progress on the map on my phone. On the way back I got lost, but was rewarded with the discovery of a beautiful park along a pretty stream.

A stream, a golf course, and a park in the middle of Dublin.

The pictures for this trip are on picasa. I'm not very happy about how they turned out because it is difficult to set exposure and impossible to zoom on my phone camera. But it beats dragging along my SLR.
I passed Johnnie Fox's pub which claims to be the highest pub in Ireland. They are out in nowhere land, and other than the pub, a few houses, and a bunch of sheep, there is not much else in Glencullen where it is located. People must like to come here, though. On my second day in Ireland I was handed a brochure for it and when I was there, a constant stream of people kept coming and going. I didn't go in because I was all sweaty and smelly in my bike clothes, and had a long way home ahead of me.

Given a name like Cliff Manor, I was expecting a little bit more than what is actually there. There is a nice view of the ocean and the port of Greystones below, but it is just a private parking lot that belongs to a set of apartment buildings. There is a farm below, and some more buildings along the road, but it is marked private. I don't think there is a manor there.

The view from Cliff Manor (no manor in sight ;-)

Usually, other bike riders pass me; at high speed. But on the way back through town, I got to pass a heavyset guy on a bike. Then I had to stop and check my phone to see where I was going. During that time he passed me, and I got to pass him again after I found out where I was. Then I had to check my phone again, and he caught me another time. (Google satellite images and their maps for Ireland don't always agree on where the roads are, or what intersections look like. So, navigation is a challenge.)
Finally the guy caught up with me again and stopped to talk to me. He has an Eastern European accent and asked me how to stand up on a bike. I couldn't quite figure out what he wanted to know, and he apologized for his accent when I didn't answer right away. It turns out that all he wanted was to get off the saddle to climb hills a little bit easier. I wasn't sure how to answer that.
I told him that obviously he knew how to stand, since he was standing in front of me. So, all it would take, was doing the same thing while on the bike. I told him to to find a save spot to try and get up a little, and practice that until he was able to stand. The only thing different to standing on the road is the need for a little bit more sense of balance. While I was studying my map, he did a few rounds in the parking lot where we had stopped and accomplished his goal. He seemed very happy and we exchanged a few more pieces of information about saddle hight and such, and then he took off. I was thinking this should making me feel good, having helped another person and such. But simply telling someone to stand up and then watch them do it, did not quite bring on the heartwarming I had expected. Maybe it was just a little bit too strange.

Saturday Afternoon

What more could one want? ;-)

I was supposed to do a 12-mile run today, but stopped after two. My knees are still hurting (I think I overdid in the gym a couple of weeks ago, after not having lifted for several weeks). Instead, I rode my bike along the route I was going to take, to do some exploring, and then went shopping, where my eyes fell on a six-pack of ice cream bars...
Speaking of ice cream, ever since I arrived in the last week of FEBRUARY I hear and see ice cream trucks driving through the neighborhoods. It's freezing here, less than 50, sometimes less than 40, and people walk around eating ice cream.
In Dublin city center (the bus drivers wont know where to take you, if you tell them you want to go down town ;-) people wear short sleeves, short skirts, and eat ice cream. Right next to them you see other people walking in weather appropriate attire: heavy coat, gloves, and long pants. My theory is that the short-sleevers are the natives and the wrapped-up ones are tourists or immigrants.
My run, which turned into a bike ride, took me down to the river Liffey, where university students were practicing on the river.

This is the river that flows through Dublin and then into the Irish sea. I also crossed a canal where you can rent a houseboat for a weekend or a whole week and explore Ireland as a river caption. That sounds fun, and I'm wondering what the qualifications are that you have to have in order to rent one of those river cruisers.