Living in Ireland

Before I left for Ireland I tried to exchange the bulk of my dollars into Euro at my local credit union branch. I was informed that the only branch that had a significant amount of foreign currency was the one located at the airport. On the day, I stopped at that branch and presented them with the roughly $4000 I wanted to turn in to Euro. "I highly doubt we have that much Euro on hand..." was what I got.

What they had was 1900 Euro. At the current exchange rate back then in 2006, that came to $3K. I cleaned them out and left the country.

1,900 Euro seems like a lot. I also had another $1,000 on hand as well. But Immigration Control was not impressed. At the time, I did not have a credit card. I destroyed them all before I left. I wanted to start over again. The immigration officer told me that would maybe last a month in Dublin. Now, I was the one that was unimpressed.ONE month?! WHat the faux? Anywho, you already know I mnaged to sneak thru regardless...

Back to my rental flat, terrace:

So, my rent in a tiny 7X10 room was 350€ plus €150 deposit. I handed Ciaran a €500 note. At the time that was like handing someone a $750 bill. He had never seen one before, and stared at it intently. "I know, that's a whole lot of cash in one little bill". He agreed. I said if the bank doesn't like it, feel free to boot me.

Ciaran turned out to be a gracious and friendly landlord. I still stop by on occasion to say hi. The other room Ciaran was renting out at the time belonged to Brian. Like Ciaran, he had a very thick Dublin accent. It took me the better part of a month before I understood them well enough to hold a decent conversation.
Brian always had a smile and was eager to help when I had questions. They made my transition fairly easy to Dublin living.

It was 2-3 weeks before I would start my new job. The next day, I decided to go outside and see what my new neighborhood was like.

The first thing I noticed was someone in the area owned a horse

Sure,OK. I lit a cig after a moment of pause...

"Don't spose yis gots anudder of them?"

I turned my head to meet the neighbor. She was a stout young lady that owned at least 3 children, maybe 4. I forget. She had a pack of John Player Specials in her hands, which I noticed. She noticed that I noticed. "Never had me one of them American cigarettes..." she nodded towards the unfiltered Lucky Strike I had just lit. I traded her one for one. I had JP's before,and though very light, I always enjoyed them. I lit her Lucky with my Zippo. "Ah, ya got one of them Zippo's, too dere". I nodded. I guess I was very American, or sumfin.

She inhaled. But not like I inhale, because I know even when filtered, Lucky Strikes are a pretty strong cigarette. I tend to sort of sip them  when unfiltered.

She started coughing and hacking immediately.

"S'good taste, this..*hork* Bit *cough* strong, tho"

I smiled and said, "You gotta go easy wit them. Smoke them like a filtered and it's gonna be a bit rough." I lit the JP I now had in my hands, drew enough smoke to keep it lit, then reached over the low wall that divided the terraced houses once again and motioned towards her for a swap. She exchanged cigarettes gladly. She then produced a half full bottle of vodka she had near the base of the wall on her side, and poured me enough to fill half a cup. It wasn't anywhere near noon yet. I drank healthily.

Out of the heat and in to the Eire

In October of 2007, I sold everything I owned - everything, and I bought a one way ticket to Dublin, Ireland. I had a job waiting me there, and roughly $4500 of my own money.

Little did I know how expensive it would be to live in Dublin at the height of the Celtic Tiger. But I really didn't have a choice; the only job I could get in Ireland was in Dublin.

Texas is a beautiful place, but I couldn't take working in the heat much longer. If I was going to get a job working outside, it had to be in different circumstances. I was starting to get on in age by this time, and just couldn't work 12 hours in heat like I used to. Add in the fact I made very little money as evidenced by the meager 4500 I raised from savings and selling my belongings, and I had incentive to try something new. I did like my old boss, so thanked him honestly for allowing me to work for him. He surprised me with a $500 bonus and wished me luck. I doubt I will ever again work for such a good man. I look back on those days fondly when I forget how many pain killers I had to pop to simply make it through the day.

I spent all night on the red-eye flight speaking to some folks whom had never been to Ireland. I had been there once before, so had some insight, and rambled on endlessly due to the excitement of my journey. The drawback was I had almost no sleep when I landed at Dublin and appeared before an immigration official. I told her I had shown up in Ireland for a job. This would have been fine had I already been documented. But in my sleepy haze, I had forgotten that the Dept. of Enterprise hadn't yet issued my permit - it usually took 3-6 weeks. I had intended to enjoy a short holiday/vacation before starting work. This is all fine and dandy...until you tell that story to immigration because you are an idiot.

The flight was some 11 hours. I arrived in Dublin, Ireland shortly before dawn. It took half a dozen long phone calls by the immigration officer to sort things out(whom I found charming and quite attractive, so aside from the induced anxiety, didn't mind spending time with her). I was on the streets of Dublin by noon that day - absolutely, utterly exhausted.

Now I had to find my way to the room I had rented via the Internet in Clondalkin, just on the outskirts of Dublin proper perhaps, but more importantly, close to my new job. I jumped on a Dublin Bus, paid my 1 Euro or so, and sat down, and allowed it to take me far away from my destination. I was the last person on board when the driver pulled over for his break somewhere in South East Dublin, if i recall - Milltown was it? I stepped out, the driver was young, and seemed mildly surprised. I offered him a smoke, and we both sat there, smoking. I looked around and took in the sights of a strange, but pleasant, suburb.

Finally he said as he exhaled a bit of cigarette smoke, "Yer lost, are ye?".
I nodded.

Nearly 2 hours later, I arrived at my Clondalkin destination. A 'terraced house' as they are called.

School had just let out and children were everywhere, playing. I had been awake nearly a day and a half at this point.

There were adults about, corralling the children. Both of them greeted me cordially with "You're the American, are ya?", and pointed me towards the house I was meant to be at. Ciaran, the homeowner, had company. I spent the next few hours visiting with them, and whilst outside, visiting with the neighbors on smoke breaks. I was in my new bed, in a new home, in a new country a short 40 hours after having left Austin, Texas. I slept rather well that night.

Go kennel, Roman.

Ireland,

Texas was hot and humid in the summer. Very hot, and very humid. I was starting to get on in age. Eventually I decided i needed to move on. But where?

It was early August 2006. It was very very hot. I was in my apartment wit the ac set to 78* because 68* cost another $150 a month. I was considering quitting my wrecking job and getting back in to tech as a last resort. I already had done a short contract in St Louis Missouri in 2006, so going back wouldn't have been painful, aside from all the travel and the office time.

While I was considering this I saw ROman do something he hadn't done before. He was whining, apparently for no reason I could see. I took him to a vet, but they said he is just getting old.

Several weeks later he jumped from my truck and injured his leg pretty badly. The vet put him back together, but once the wound healed, it was obvious what his problem was. He had contracted OsteoSarcoma. Very common in large breed dogs like Greyhounds that live to his age(he was nearly 11). Though it became steadily worse, I looked after him until the suffering was just too much for both of us to bear. I had never in my life had to put down an animal I loved. I put it off as much as i dared, but one day he was in such bad shape... such bad shape.

I took him to the vet. He hated the vet, so it took some urging to get him to go inside. I didn't want to put him down the way some of my Texas friends had put their dogs down. It was painless when done right, but I thought ROman deserved better than a bullet, even if I am perfectly fine with one ending my life. Still, I think he deserved better. To go peacefully.

I cried. I made an absolute fool of myself at the clinic. I couldn't help but to feel I had betrayed him. It was profoundly saddening. I told him I loved him so much, and was so thankful of the meaning he gave my life. I told him I missed him. I tell him that a lot now.

I went home, I drank all day and I cried...

Later that night, when I calmed down and ran out of energy, I began to wonder what to do with the rest of my life. I didn't want to live in Texas any more. I wanted to try something new. After a time, it occurred to me - I wanted to live in Ireland. At least for a while.

Within 2 weeks I had sold everything I owned, and got a job as a tow truck driver in DUblin Ireland via an on-line application. Within 3 weeks, I was living in Ireland. I had lived there for a short stint back in 1998, what could possibly be different 10 years later?

It took nearly 3 years, but eventually I got up the nerve to create a memorial for Roman:  http://www.pbase.com/wyk/roman

http://www.pbase.com/wyk/ireland_part2

Greyhounds

I had always wanted a dog. I had some time now to spend with one, so decided to see what options I had. I knew I wanted a rescue. I didn't want to propagate the inbred mess and contribute to the pain and suffering i had seen some breeds go through. I spent no small amount of time mulling it over. I went from rescue to rescue. Then I remembered a photo I took back in 1998 or so in Monterey, California. It was off two beautiful Greyhounds that were rescues.

I called the local one to Austin at the time and scheduled a meeting. They informedme they would have to ring a couple of the hounds by my place and check things out. While this is a bit invasive, and i wouldn't allow it now, I was excited and was curious to see what would show up.

They brought two youngish hounds over. I chose the lesser energetic of the two. His name was ROman Rocket.

This is what he mostly does:

He soon became a great companion and would have me stuck on Greyhounds for the foreseeable future.

Tech to Wreck

I was bouncing around on the occasional contract. I was mentally and physically drained.  I had plenty saved up to coast for a long while, so I decided to travel some. I visited Ireland at first because I had spent some time back there in 1997 after having met some wonderful Irish interns at a Sun Microsystems contract. Their way of life, so simple, and unpretentious really rubbed off on me. I came back with  new perspective. I decided to go nomad and see what jobs I liked outside of tech. I knew I wouldn't make much money, but I had some side jobs that kept me busy.

My first choice:  Wrecking, AKA towing, aka repossession. I had  friend involved in the business for quite some time. I decided to give it a shot just to see what it was all about.

I ended up with several crews over a couple of years. The money wasn't bad, actually. But the work was brutal. And the hours were brutal. Fortunately most of the time I was able to bring ROman with me(the greyhound I picked up in a previous post..or later post..or..uh..). He was very good at riding shotgun and always accompanied me on my journeys in or out of work. This job lasted nearly 4 years from 2002 to 2006 before the heat and lack of sleep nearly killed me. Also ROmans health began to deteriorate, so I wanted to spend more time with him and look after him. He had become a very important part of my life since i had few friends in the Austin area to spend time with - most were married or in other states or countries.

This is my wrecking gallery:

http://www.pbase.com/wyk/wrecking_in_texas

It took a while to get the hang of driving a big truck and towing and recovering vehicles. I got most of my training on the job, and I certainly did plenty of damage on my way to learning.

I also lost a lot of sleep. A lot. Other operators were abusing meth or aderol etc. I was in too much pain since I had hurt my back and usually was on Ibuprofen. Sometimes the pain was so bad I would take 3200-4800mg of IB a day. I also had fire ants and mosquitoes attacking me day and night. And then there were the bums. Occasionally one would try to steal something off my truck late at night or just get too close for comfort. Those I dealt with accordingly. One I used a 25 lb safety tie down chain on. I didn't take kindly to folks stealing from me since anything that disappeared from the truck came out of my paycheck. One week I barely broke even after damaging someone's exhaust. You learn the hard way on the job.

I tried my hand at repo briefly. Briefly. I quit the second time I was shot at.

From tech to tech

I spent many many years bouncing from tech company to tech company in the bay area. Between the noise, traffic, office politics, etc etc, I just couldn't bear it. Eventually I found myself at a field engineer job in Austin, TX. I spent the majority of my time traveling from site to site with installations, upgrades, and repairs of medical imaging equipment.

Still, I couldn't help but think there was more to life than 40 hours a week in a car or a cubical or office building. Pay was great, hours were horrible, and the travel was brutal. I often found myself with 60 hour weeks, not including the air time between 2-3 cities or more. Oftentimes I worked weekends.

In 2001, I lost that job. Was it 911, or the economy, or me? I dunno. All I know is I would never work in tech again.

At least I got to enjoy spots like Bone Daddy's during the best of times: