Part II- The Apartment Hunt
My mom and I stayed in a hotel while we searched for my Dublin apartment. I thought that being from New York and going through apartment hunts there (pls refer to this post), that Dublin would be a little more low key, and the standards might, just might, be a little higher than what I'm used to. Well this was all completely unfounded, and unfortunately, untrue.
My mom and I used the one website that Irish people use, and our first day, I will filled with hope and promise- trying to ignore the fact that everything in my price range looked a little scary. As in- I could completely imagine myself dying alone in it.
One thing that also took me by surprise, was when we did start seeing apartments, I was getting grilled by the landlords. Keep in mind, I have no Irish bank account, no job, no potential job, can't commit to any amount of months, and the icing- I'm a musician. (A fact that I left out during every interogation, and ended up looking much shadier. Because to them i was just some weird American that is here in Dublin, to chillax.)
About 3 days in, I started getting desperate and scared. No apartment was right, and all the landlords were scary. No one was returning my calls (maybe cause it was the weekend? Or perhaps it was simply my voice. --my mom's hypothesis. )
Ok so finally someone calls back, and we're supposed to meet them in front of the potential apartment. My mom and I arrive, waiting to meet the agent (who i imagine is in the apartment, watching us from the window, judging, and taking notes.) At this point, I knew my mom and I had to be on our best behaviors. Yes, so did my mom, who I suddenly see picking something off the ground that fell off a tree and taking it apart. Like, really unraveling it, and then removing a shell from it. I am stunned silent (probably as is the agent from the window), as she puts the shell on the ground, CRUSHES IT VIOLENTLY WITH HER SHOE, picks it back up, and then EATS A NEWLY REVEALED NUT. I watch all this in horror as she says, chewing, "this reminds me of my childhood." Ok fine, I can't really argue with that.
The agent meets us, and that's when the horror really begins.
The apartment is in a dirty basement. The carpet is.....I can't describe. It smells like mold, there's no light. The door is being held open by a man's shoe. It's freezing. All at a price I can BARELY afford. At this point I feel so desparate, and suddenly hear myself say to the agent:
"This is so adorable! Yeah, this is great."
I then walk into the bedroom, where my mom is standing- pale, quiet, the look of fear in her eye- eyeing the brown mattress (originally white, i think) as if it was a scary animal. And then we left quietly.
It's amazing what you learn about yourself in moments of desparation. It's not pretty. I was annoyed at my mom for eating a nut off a tree and meanwhile I was ready to die alone on a moldy tan carpet , where a door could only be held open by a stranger's gross loafer. My how the decency tables turn. Not sure what the moral there is, but I know there is one.
Oh, also I was sleeping miserably from stress, jetlag, and anxiety. In order to cope, I would close my eyes, try to relax and repeat this over and over: WHAT THE FUCK AM I DOING. That, shockingly, didn't work. So then I swear to god, I tried THIS, in my headphones.
ALSO, DID NOT WORK. I mean, even this baby looks like he hasn't slept in days.
One day, we went to visit another horrible apartment - though before hand, like all the others, "mom, I really think this is going to be the ONE." There was a line down the street. It was raining. And the line is the only reason people stayed in the line. "This must be a real gem." Meanwhile we could see everything through the front window. It was the smallest room ever, and that's all it was. And I am not exaggerating that the owner would come outside, give a hand signal, and people would go in TWO BY TWO to see the room. And everyone came out, silent, and stunned. My theory was that he was bringing people in and showing them his penis, so my mom and I decided we better stay in the line to see what was up! So then it was our turn. We marched up the stairs. It's a shit hole. Of course I go through the whole "this is adorable!" routine, SIGN A SHEET that says I'm interested, and then we had to write something that he could remember us by. The moment I knew I had to change my tentant pitch, was when he TOLD ME TO WRITE:
"NYC, Seeking work."
My mom and I called it a day. We went out for dinner with our Irish friend Orla, and two bottles of wine later, I had my new pitch ready- the pitch that would make me seem like a trustworthy (and rich) tenant. A story that I had to practice on my mom in the hotel room a few times before I got it right.
My mom: "So what are you doing here in Dublin?"
Me: "Well in New York, I worked in finance, and I've decided to spend my sabbatical in Dublin."
"More relaxed!" My mom would coach from the hotel bed.
Me saying I work in finance is not a non-truth, but it's also the most embarrassing WHITE lie ever. (Cut to me making phone calls to remove my boss off mailing lists and canceling dr. appts.) AND THE SABBATICAL. It's all. so. embarrassing. and if it had been anyone but my mom watching me, I would not have been able to say it with a straight face, or any face at all.
With my new pitch and some amazing luck, I finally found an apartment, and I am obsessed with it. My landlord has the sweetest dog (Whippet?) that he may let me walk.
Also, my landlord thinks I am in finance, so I need to somehow figure out how to be honest with him if we're going to have a nice tenant/landlord relaish.
More on that later, everyone. Thrilled about the election, which I will cover in my next post.
Love, Galia
