27/01/2017

HOUSE TOUR! | Our Dublin Home


Hi everyone! Welcome to our Irish crib! Or chez nous, like my French-speaking counterpart would say. We recently moved to a lovely new flat not too far from the city centre of Dublin, so why not take you to a little tour around this Irish-Finnish-Canadian fusion living of ours?

This is the first time I have a hall in my apartment since I left Finland. Our flat in the UK, both flats in Canada and my previous one in Ireland all opened straight to an open space or to a long corridor, but this is some serious hall-ness happening right here. The door on the left opens to a bathroom, the one on the front leads to the apartment.



LIVINGROOM
Welcome to our living room! And bedroom. And kitchen... Needless to say, we live in a studio. Dublin is a nightmare when it comes to the rental market, so as poor-ass students there's not much more we can afford. Luckily this beauty is more than spacious for us two, with a mezzanine to sleep on. Let's take a tour around!



In case you're wondering about the white panels on the walls, those are our heaters. Now, we've all heard horror stories about badly built apartments on the British Isles, and I've got my fair share of that in the past, but this apartment has none of that crap. The temperature goes down to 16 or 17 degrees Celcius during the night if we don't keep the heaters on, but we can set the heaters to a fixed temperature (usually 23) after which they turn themselves off automatically. It's a dream, really. And like I stated in one of my Christmas vlogs, upon returning to Finland for the holidays I realised I'm not comfortable in the typical dry, 24-degree indoor air of my parents' apartment. Ireland has made me thick-skinned.



There used to be a fireplace, but the structure was removed during renovation. What's left is only the beautiful exterior as a sign of the apartment's past. Most flats in here seem to have a fireplace of some sort, functional or not.




MEZZANINE
When living tight, every square meter has to be used. Our bed is up the stairs on a mezzanine. Storing clothes is also well planned...




This is the coziest space ever. I confess sitting right here at this very moment, typing this post! The bedsheets are the absolute best.



KITCHEN
Welcome to our kitchen. This kitchen is a source of many disagreements for a multicultural couple - kitchens often tend to be. During the last few years I've learned to live without the greatest Finnish invention since the dawn of mankind - that being the dish drying cupboard. The substitute is this metal horror on my counter.

Another issue is the brush/sponge debate. To be honest, I had kind of forgotten the Finnish fascination of brushes and submitted to using sponges, up until I re-encountered a brush when the previous tenant left us his unused dish brush. Nothing prepared me for the pleasure of washing my dishes with a good ol' brush once more. Alex, however, can't stand this anomaly, so we had both options until I decided to do some self-rehab therapy and sacrificed the dish brush to wash our stove plates with it. Good bye brush: gone, but never forgotten.



One of the hardest things to adjust to in a country of teadrinkers is the poor quality of coffee. Now, before anyone attacks me by screeching "THERE'S NOTHING WRONG WITH THE COFFEE IN IRELAND", let me remind you that my lovely northern nation is statistically speaking the most passionate coffee drinker in the world, with an average of 5 cups of coffee being consumed each day per person. Let that sink in. Also I'd like to know why there aren't more heart attacks per day.

Anyway, coffee. My lovely sister bought us a French press accompanied with some real Finnish coffee for Christmas, and I absolutely love it! Two years of drinking instant coffee has left its mark on my dark Finnish soul, but those days are no more. I have a French press now.


BATHROOM
There's not much to photograph in our bathroom apart from a few Anglo specialties. Now, the first one is of course familiar to anyone who's ever been to London for a holiday. The taps. Right. The physical representation of all illogic of the Empire. This shit drives me nuts, no lie. Every morning I'm put on a trial to choose whether I want to start my day by burning or freezing my hands/face: great times, each morning. It keeps you on your tip toes in a way.

Don't look at the toothbrushes, I know there are three. One of them is, according to Alex, his next toothbrush.



Here we have many more funny things to wonder and ponder. Air conditioning up right, this random source of heat on bottom left. My primary way of using this heat anomaly is to dry my hair with it, because for some absolutely unknown reason the only power socket in this whole house that does NOT follow the British/Irish standard happens to be in the bathroom. It fits the European standard. It fits the Canadian/American standard. It even fits the AUSTRALIAN standard, but no, my hairdryer with its British/Irish plug doesn't fit. The irony.


This was new for both me and Alex. The fuse. We have a water tank in the cupboard behind our bed, which heats us water on command. The command is this red button. It creates a weird kind of sense of control to my life, as now I have to plan my showers at least 15 minutes in advance. What a terrible idea for a postgraduate used to spending each day in her pyjamas, living dangerously and spontaneously by using cookies and snack bars as her primary source of nutrition.



I hope you liked what we did with the apartment! Alex and I are well-suited in many ways, one of them being a similar taste in decoration. The only element which caused trouble was the above scented candle I insisted on buying because it was fancy and colourful and it has this little furry thing hanging from it. No regrets! Alex learned to live with it within a few days after realising it doesn't smell like balsam and amber after all...

Have you found it hard to adjust to a new apartment in a foreign country? Who decorates in your couple? Share your thoughts in the comments below!


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16/12/2016

A TRIP TO IRISH IKEA


Everything has automatically a little bit more craic if you add the word "Irish" in front. Let's try:
  • Irish Breakfast
  • Irish Coffee
  • Irish Pub
  • Irish Dance
  • Irish IKEA
Now that I look at the list, somehow I feel like everything becomes "Irish" if you add a ton of alcohol and a couple blood puddings in it - none of these were part of our IKEA excursion though, sadly. Nevertheless, the expedition still had some pretty good craic! Did I say enough "craic" in this post already?

There's something about shopping for furniture that really makes me feel settled in a country. At this point, only after 2 years of living abroad, my feeling of being rooted in a certain place is still really dependant on this sort of external, fairly concrete activities to tie you down - I'd like to see you try and fly our new bookshelf in a luggage back to Finland! They're like anchors: nothing can pull me back now that I'm clinging on to my new house decor nail deep.

Alex and I moved in together - again. This time it's just the two of us, in a lovely little studio apartment a short sprint away from Phoenix Park. I'll take you to a house tour when we get everything settled (house tour = spinning 360 degrees around with a camera in a studio this size!), but for that to happen, we needed to test our relationship in the classic form of IKEA shopping.


The public transport of Dublin is terrible. I don't even know where to start. The only positive thing I can think of is the double-decked buses. They're fun.


Alex: "What do you think St. Pumps did to become a saint?"


Our task of the day was to find a bookshelf to replace the TV stand the previous owner of the apartment had left there. Obviously we ended up buying at least 15 other things, but...



Because why wouldn't you want a bath tub in the middle of your living room?




This is a funny thing: if there's one major difference between IKEAs in Ireland and e.g. in Finland, it's the fireplace. Almost every room exhibition displays a fireplace in it, whereas in Finland they occur really rarely. That's definitely for a reason though: most flats actually have fireplaces. Even ours (in a sense, you'll see later).


But of course the props are still all in Swedish. It's funny to sink in the middle of all this Swedishness: seeing all those Ås, Äs and Ös makes me feel at home, and 10 minutes in I expected everyone around me to speak Swedish.


"Mrs. Santa just got a lot hotter..."
"Shut up."


We got really excited about this rocking moose. The Canadian senses are tingling.


And what on earth are you even doing in IKEA if you don't plan to eat some classic Swedish meatballs? Well, Swedish for the Irish... Just plain meatballs for me.



Looking at this photo I realise how tired I actually look. Jesus. This year has been the worst of my entire life, by far, but somehow I never realised how it has started to reflect on my face. Onwards to new challenges!


... In this case, to assemble furniture. I can't say for sure, but Alex said "tabarnak" at least 20 times during the process. But we're still together, so that's good news.


The result! As you can see, we do have a fireplace, kind of, and even as a nonfunctional one we wanted to have it on display somehow. It starts to feel like home in here, for the first time in this country. Ireland, you're not so bad. The living conditions you offer just somehow make me hate life and everything coming with it.

What kind of things make you feel at home in a new country? Share your thoughts in the comments below!


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20/11/2016

OUR BORROWMYDOGGY.COM EXPERIENCE


Life as an international postgrad student can get unstable: the hunt for a job or a flat you know you're probably going to lose to a local, constant bureaucracy, flexible timetables and endless nights at the library. Alex and I decided to find a common hobby to take our minds off things - a dog turned out to be a good one. Meet Marley.

Well, it's not our dog to be exact. I stumbled upon this ad on Facebook a while back - BORROWMYDOGGY.COM. It's a service in the UK and Ireland where both dog owners and dog lovers can register and meet up: owners with little free time can find people with a dog-shaped hole in their lives (that's us!) to spend time with their woofs. We signed up in an instant!

It's like Tinder for dogs. A 10€ verification fee and a few supporting documents (proof of address, passport etc. to make sure it's safe) later we had a catalogue of local dogs in front of our eyes. You can select your location and the page will display all available dogs in your area. We found Marley 1km away from us.

We have been chatting with the owners for a few weeks now, and today we were finally ready to meet. It was kind of scary at first - you just enter a stranger's house and go out with their dog. We decided to head out for a walk both with Marley and his owners to get Marley used to us, bribe him with some treats and then discreetly leave him to our company while the owners retreated back home.


Marley turned out to be the easiest dog to get along with. After 3 hours he was really fond of us (or the treats, who knows).



There was something oddly relaxing in playing with a dog in the park for the afternoon. For a moment we had a completely different kind of life: not the one of assignments and economic uncertainty, but a suburbian dream on a Sunday afternoon with a dog, a tennis ball and a runny red nose.



An Irish November. It's cold all the way to your bones and covered in fog. The grass is layered with dewdrops and your socks are probably wet. You can see your breath and smell the rain. The dampness is almost visible in the photos. To be honest, despite how uncomfortable all this may sound, I think this tranquil little Sunday afternoon made me fall in love with Ireland just a wee bit more. I still need dry socks and a heater, though.


We had a cup of tea with the owners afterwards and agreed to meet up again next weekend. I've tried to find ways to get in touch with Irish people to feel a bit more at home - I figured staying isolated in a community of immigrants would probably do some harm to my mental health in the long run. If I want to learn to like Ireland, I need Irish people to prove to me their country is worth it.

So we sat down for an hour and had that cuppa in an Irish living room. It was just a cup of tea with strangers, but somehow it made us feel a bit more connected to this country - and a bit less tired of spending 10 hours a day reading about conflict resolution...
(P.S. Believe it or not, this post was not sponsored by borrowmydoggy.com - I'm just really excited about their concept!)

Do you ever have troubles feeling connected to your new country? Do you think having hobbies could help with that? Share your thoughts in the comments below!


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