Time for a status update! (Photos courtesy of iPhone!)

I am currently staying at a property in a part of Ireland called Renvyle and will be here until the 31st August (it is 12th August today).

The property is listed on a website called Airbnb which allows people to rent out spare rooms in their house (or the entire house itself) at a price decided by the host. An instant business, so to speak.

The listing I have chosen mentioned pitching a tent in the back garden for a small fee. Included was use of the shower in the house, along with wi-fi and kitchen area for cooking. This, I thought, would be ideal for me, as campsites can be quite transient in soul, like airports where everything is in constant motion and there is no permanent beating heart to the place. So better for me then, if I stay at a person’s actual home for a while, especially when it comes to gaining an authentic Irish experience. Local knowledge is key!

I asked if it would be ok for me to park my van on the land and use this instead of a tent, whilst retaining the use of the facilities as per the ‘pitch a tent’ listing. The host agreed.

I feel I have settled in enough here after 4 days to finally gain some perspective of my personal options and prospects in the sense of job hunting. (My head has stopped spinning quite so much compared to my last post!).

Money is now my first concern and I need to plug the leak as soon as possible before savings dry up and I am forced to spend the last drop on a ferry ticket back home.

Priority number one is to find a job.

Priority number two is to find a PPS number (Ireland’s version of a National Insurance number and an identifier for taxation purposes as far as I understand). Without a PPS number, I cannot be employed.

To obtain a PPS number, I need a job offer in writing from a potential employer.

Yesterday I applied for the glamorous position of pot-washer at a nearby hotel. But…..I immediately realised a flaw in my approach; on my CV and cover letter, I only have a UK number to provide, so this morning, I bought myself a cheapskate mobile phone €19.99 with SIM card, so I can use the Irish number that comes with it. May prove to be a worthwhile investment if a job comes of it.

I’ll keep you posted about the job applications……this may take some time before I hear anything from an employer, but in the mean-time, I will possibly opt for the direct approach and walk in to a place asking if they have any positions available.

Airbnb

Being my first Airbnb experience, I wasn’t sure what to expect exactly, but it has been the most wholesome and fulfilling few days of my life for quite a while. But I must point out that this is mostly due to the people involved. The Airbnb business model is only the template that enables these interactional opportunities to happen.

Here are just a couple of moments that have been part of the fun so far:

I walked through the front door of the host’s house on the first evening and was greeted by the host himself (an Irishman), as well as other gentleman that had also booked rooms in the same Airbnb property. This was not what I was expecting….but in a good way!

The group consisted of a guy from Hamburg, Germany who worked in the line of security. An American actor / director from New York City, originally from Buffalo. A Spaniard working in Conservation. Later that day, two French girls arrived who were staying outside in their tent and had hitch-hiked all the way from Dublin.

The French girls proceeded to venture out again just moments after arriving, going for an evening’s stroll around the lanes.

The Spaniard went to his room to get his work done (remote working).

The German, the American and I went to the local pub and sampled the delights of Guinness, Jameson’s Whiskey and food. After an hour or so, it was like we had known each other for ever. I lost count of the times we said cheers in Irish, German and English throughout the night. After an amazing few hours I became a criminal by failing to provide cash from my wallet for the bill (I had none) – the pub didn’t accept card and I was asked to return to the pub the next day with the funds (nearest ATM being ten minutes drive away inside a shop which was closed after 6pm). But being a guy who likes a beer or two, being officially summoned back to a bar did not represent a problem for me, but I was slightly concerned at giving the English a bad name for not paying!

The next night it was a case of deja vu, as we rendezvoused, same time, same place. This time, I remembered my cash.

The third evening, for some reason, everyone in the house had decided to buy their own ingredients and use the Airbnb kitchen to cook. This laid the foundations for a group meal, around a single table. This in turn led to an evening of playing Monopoly, (Ireland themed of course) wine and more Guinness, chatting and general fun.

The German chap, after never having played Monopoly before, earned the nickname Merkel due to his extraordinary monetary talents. He fleeced pretty much everyone of their cash when, like clockwork, we each landed on his Roscommon property resulting in a fee of €20 million per player! (Judging by these prices, it would appear that we were playing a pre-recession version of the game!).

Fourth evening, the newly formed Airbnb clan moseyed up the lane from the house to watch an Irish music performance of some kind in a tiny school house. We weren’t 100% sure of the details of what was on offer, as the American had only seen a sign saying live Irish music at 8.30pm and there was no bar inside.

We arrived to find the doors closed and no signs of life. I knocked on the back-door and an old chap opened it and I asked in my politest fashion, if there was “any chance a small bunch of humble tourists like ourselves could possibly be permitted to witness the authentic Irish experience of talented local musicians this particular evening”. He said “yes, of course. It’s twelve euros each”. The French girls listening from behind me audibly scoffed at the price. The door was closed again and it was group decision time.

It was agreed by unanimous decision that we would send the two French girls out as scouts to look for the nearest Guinness selling shop. They would buy some of the black nectar and return to us boys who would be sat waiting stoically on the wall outside the performance building. We would then deploy said cans of nectar whilst listening to the sound of tap-dancing, singing and harp playing wafting through the (still) partially open door of the school hall. Our plan worked perfectly and we “saved” €12 each by listening to the excellent music from the outside, whilst sipping a pint. In addition, we could talk and enjoy the view of mountains too. Rebels!

What made it all the more enjoyable was that during the time it took for the girls to return with the liquid rations, what seemed like every tourist in Ireland turned up by car, jamming the carpark and narrow lane leading up to the tiny school house. A veritable gold-mine!

Note: It transpired that after days of calling the Spaniard Pablo for days, he is actually named José.

The following music on my iPhone is providing the soundtrack to my experiences, if you fancy a listen:

Fashion Killa by A$AP Rocky
Magnolia by Alberta Cross
Here by Alessia Cara
Rotation by Future
Your Loves Whore by Wolf Alice
Without by Years & Years
Du Gråter Så Store Tåra (Norwegian Version) by Ane Brun
Lean On (feat. MØ & DJ Snake) by Major Lazer
Where Dragons Dwell by Gojira
Barcelona by Henry Green

Next post!!!!!!