The Dublin Community Blog

As I blogged about before, my wallet was stolen a couple weeks ago.  Discovering my wallet gone started a whole series of events that mostly involved me not having access to my money.  First, I called my bank at home.  They told me that I would have the replacement card the following Tuesday (2 business days from when I reported it stolen).  Well, a week later and I still didn’t have my card.  So, I called the bank again and it hadn’t been ordered!  I complained a bit and the person I talked to put it in super fast UPS delivery and I got it the following Wednesday (Monday had been a bank holiday and I had been at work when they tried to deliver it on the Tuesday).

During this time, I still had not gotten my Irish laser card replaced.  When I called initially, I was told that it would be 5 business days to get the new card and pin.  On the third business day, I received my pin.  After 6 business days, I hadn’t gotten my card yet.  So I rang Permanent TSB and asked about it.  They said that it could take up to 7 business days!  I told them that I had gotten my pin already and they then informed me that it takes 2-3 days just to make the Laser card!  So, when I still hadn’t gotten my card as of Thursday (12 calendar days after I reported it stolen), I rang again.  The person that I talked to also said that it can take 2-3 days to make the card and then didn’t know how long the postal service would take and that it may be slowed down due to a small postal strike.  I explained that I had actually been getting my other mail.  I then asked them why it took so long and how come my bank at home could get me a card in 4 days including a bank holiday.  The person reminded me that I wasn’t at home!  The person then decided that maybe my card had gotten sent to branch.  He then checked and yes, it had been sent to the branch but he had no way of knowing if it was actually there!  I then rang the bank and they had had my card at least 2 days before mailing out that they had my card.  Well, at least that is what the person estimated because there was no date stamping or marking in anyway of when my card arrived at the bank!

This whole experience was so frustrating.  I didn’t have full access to my money and when saying this to the bank reps, their response was that I could go to the bank.  But I work.  I had to take time off of work to go to the bank.  Why does it take so long here in Ireland to print and mail a card.  Why can’t things be delivered faster, especially after someone has just had their wallet stolen?  If I wasn’t already leaving the country, I would certainly be changing banks, not that any other Irish bank would be better…

Yesterday, I hurried off the bus on O’Connell Street and headed to a jewelry store on Henry Street.  I stopped in to look at a wedding band.  After about 15 minutes, I left and was going to head to Design Yard to order my fiance’s wedding ring.  I reached back to open the front pocket of my backpack and it was already open!  I dug around in the pocket and my wallet was missing!  I went straight back to the jewelry store and asked them if they had noticed if my backpack was open.  One of the sales assistants did notice that it was open while I was in the store.  Ugh.  I then walked up and down O’Connell Street because I thought that there was a Garda station there to report the theft.  I saw a Garda and asked and he directed me to a station.

As I walked to the police station, John canceled one card and texted me the number for the other bank.  After waiting at the police station, an officer then took my details and offered to send out a letter if I needed it to help get my ID replaced.  She was very nice and reminded me that wallets are generally not found.  I then went home and convinced John to get me money so I could still have my massage.

Today, I was out looking at new wallets and I got a phone call.  It was the Garda calling to say that my wallet had been turned in and all my ID was still in it!!  I then went to the station and collected my wallet.  They had taken the money, my Dublin bus tickets, the taxi voucher I need for work on Monday, my stamps to mail things out of Ireland, and my prescriptions!  All ID was left in the wallet and it was apparent that whoever took it went through the wallet carefully.

So, be very careful of your bags.  I didn’t feel anyone bump me or anything but I will now start carrying my wallet closer to me!

Last week, I found myself back in Dublin along with thousands of other students looking for a flat. I had been discarded by the Trinity accomodation services and was fortunate enough to have to look for a room in September, the most competitive of months in this respect. My search was crowned in success in under 4 days, but I realised along the way that it is extremely difficult to find somewhere that is both affordable and acceptable, and that prices have been steadily rising since I moved here in 2003.

Finding a place to live in Dublin is akin to a theatrical audition/beauty pageant. It is all about making a lasting first impression which will convince a landlord of your ability to pay the rent and keep a place clean. In these circumstances, being a student evidently does not help, and one is inevitably thanked for one’s interest upon delivering this news in an apologetic fashion. As if being a student wasn’t compatible with normality and responsibility, even more so for us male students who are deemed more likely to burn a house down at the end of a 4-day binge.

Initially, my search took me to public viewings along with dozens of other punters. Once I had shown interest in overpriced bedsits due to a lack of alternatives, I went through the usual rejection process whereby overwhelmed landlords rejected me based on prejudiced first impressions, choosing the most ‘respectable’ of candidates instead (ie. a young professional, a shit-for-brains accountant who likes getting ‘trolleyed’ 3 night a week, living solely for the weekend). Some use scare tactics, doubling or tripling the required deposits to narrow the field down. One memorable character took advantage of the situation and opened a bidding war: “Whoever gives me the most money gets the place.” In this world, students don’t have a chance. 

Eventually, it becomes clear that second-tier housing is the only remaining option to us low-lives. Here is proof: one letting agent, unaware of my student stigma due to my English accent (which, surprisingly, helps!), told me over the phone that he did have a 2 bedroom flat available but that he couldn’t really show it to me because it could only really be rented to students, and would I please wait for something more suitable to come up, please? So we worthless human beings are left with so-called ‘student housing’, synonymous with ’shit-rundown-cold-dreary-overpriced’. Some of the places on the market are appalling, and it is commonly thought that a student should be grateful enough to be given somewhere to live, and should accept whatever is thrown his way.

The solution, it seems, is for everyone to engage in a show of solidarity with the student population of our wonderful city, and give up all rented housing, and squat in the city centre until all accomodation is done up to standard. Then, and only then, should places be re-allocated randomly, and life can resume. Until then, I will carry on paying 650 Euros a month for the right to live in a damp, dark, dump in Dublin. Savage.         

The influx of beggars and homeless people on the streets of Dublin has, I’m sure, not gone unnoticed by anyone. And they come in all shapes and sizes: wearing the latest Nike shoes or just an old sleeping bag, sleeping, mumbling or flat out hassling. Anything goes today.

On my most recent visit to the ATM, I was approached by its new squatter. Nothing strange there you’d say. True, but this gentleman was actually ON THE PHONE while trying to convince me to part with my change.

to his friend: hold on a sec
to me: can ya help us out loooove?
me (being quite flabbergasted I must admit): ehh I don’t think so pal
to himself: feckin foreigners

FYI: I’m pretty sure his phone was a lot more expensive than mine is….

 As tourist season and Paddy’s day approach, I feel a need for public service announcement.  As with any city, there are pick-pockets around Dublin.  Living next door to a pub in Temple Bar, we periodically see women’s wallets thrown into our entryway.  The thieves throw the wallets out of a bathroom window which conveniently shares the entryway to our building.  Most of the wallets that we have found have been from foreigners.   I don’t know what the actual stats are for pick-pocketing but if you can keep your stuff  (and yourself) safe, you’ll have more fun here in Dublin.

So, ladies (and gents), watch your belongings while out having a great time here in Dublin.

Quite often I see the Garda Mounted Unit in Temple Bar. Usually 1 or 2 Gardai on horseback wandering around keeping an eye on things and being photographed by tourists. However, I’m tired of stepping into the horse poo. They deposit massive lumps on the path or road. Large and all as they are, twice today I managed to step into some during a day dream moment. Question is, who is responsible for cleaning up Garda horsey poo? I have looked on the Garda website but it only gives details of their care etc. Any ideas folks?

On 5th of October, Joan Burton, T.D., posted the following:

Today’s confirmation that the European Central Bank is to raise interest rates by a further quarter of a percent to 3.25% will hit many hardworking Irish families who are seeking to buy their own homes hardest. On top of the spiralling national inflation rate that currently stands at 4.5% – well ahead of the European average – that is having a dramatic effect on the price of everyday goods, the ECB increase will impact heavily on all mortgage-holders, especially those who have only recently borrowed large sums. Indeed, this rise is the fifth such increase in less than 12 months. Rather than opt to go for a couple of large increases over the last year, the ECB have opted to introduce incremental rises on a bimonthly basis in order to avoid a major shock to consumer confidence…. (source: archives of Irishblogs.ie)

Now, you may wonder why I didn’t just put in the link to her blog post. Well, it may be because my boyfriend tried to post a comment about the inherant contradiction of complaining about a rise in interest rates and increases in inflation in the same breath. An introductory course in macro-economics will teach you that interest rate increases are made specificaly to combat inflation. This really ought to be understood by a politician who is a chartered accountant and has a degree in comerce. The comment was never posted on her site but as you can see the paragraph complaining about the inflation rate was removed. I just thought this type of revision shouldn’t be allowed to go unnoticed.

GOOD news for all those sunbathers on Dublin’s beaches, six have been awarded blue flags. These are Dollymount, Malahide, Donabate, Portrane, Killiney and Seapoint. More on the blue flag story here.
I wish I lived near a beach

NO surprises there then. Dublin fared very badly in a nationwide litter survey carried out by the Irish Business Against Litter.

While towns all over the country made great gains, Dublin is classed as a litter blackspot.

Smithfield was described as an ‘absolute disgrace’; the Quays ‘unsightly’ and Moore Street as an ongoing problem.

Blame was laid on Dublin City Council but I don’t think that is entirely fair because to me the people who walk along dropping litter as they go bear more responsibility. Can you blame a local authority for the dirty b*stards that live within their areas.

Certainly there is no doubt that local authorities have a responsibility to keep our streets clean, but it’s an uphill and expensive job in Dublin and this is backed up by what I see everyday.
The worst thing about this is that more money than is right is already spent cleaning up after the lazy b*stards I have alreay mentioned. Let us be clear about this, this is money that could be directed to say playgrounds but is spent brushing-up streets, clearing up illegal dumping, and all it takes is for people to have some civic pride. However that pride is lacking.

Should I expect people to have that pride, not at all, but I do expect people to know that dropping the wrapper from their chips in the middle of a street and not in a bin, is wrong, unsightly and makes our communities a litter bug’s dream and an eyesore to live with.

There have been a couple of occasions where I have lifted people’s discarded rubbish and went after them saying ‘oh excuse me you dropped this! And in most cases I have been told to ‘f*ck off’.

Charming indeed but not nearly as charming as their compulsion to pollute our streets.

Since my daughter was small NOT dropping litter has been what I consider an important lesson and one that would later become the bane of my life on washing days, she holds litter in her pockets. Well thats the way it should be.

Now back to the Irish Business Against Litter, wouldn’t it also make sense as I posted about here before to negotiate with Dublin City Council to have commerical rubbish collections lifted in the early morning.

When they do this, I will probably take their campaign (as good as it is) more seriously.

Yesterday, one of my friends phoned me on her way home from the Porterhouse after dinner and a couple pints. She happened to stop by O’Sullivan’s Pub on Westmorland Street (sorry if I spelled it wrong) and wandered in at the sound of live music. Since John had wanted to go back to the Porterhouse, we were up for some live music in a pub. And this was a pleseant surprise. The musician was pretty good (guy with a guitar) and it was more of a group sing event. He took requests and then asked the audiance to participate. The musician is there every Thursday, Friday, Saturday and Sunday! The music was in the front part of the pub which is pretty small.

This pub is more of what I think of as an Irish Pub. It was dark. It was small. The stools were unsteady. The locals were friendly. And there were regulars who knew the bartender’s names and vice versa. There was also an old guy who had his picture behind the bar and a seat saved for him!

I thought that this was a small little pub until I went to the toilet. There was a huge pub behind it the doors leading to the toilets. It has a huge TV which was broadcasting wrestling. It also has a pool table. The chairs are comfy ones and the back part is a little better lit and quieter. It was a place that you could go and have your pint and have deep conversation. Well, as deep as you can have while you’re drinking pint after pint…