74 Wellington

March 14th

Shane has given me the address: 74 Wellington.
“You’ll be sharing the room with a guy. Have Gina or Ian in room 5 show you and call me back if you want it.”

He has lots of other properties in the area and tells me once the Grand Prix is over, he can get me into another place. But right now, this is it.
Fine with me; it’s dirt cheap.

I get there and find Pete, my new roommate, talking to Gina and Ian. Tell them I’m staying, hope Pete doesn’t mind. And no, I don’t care that it’s a tiny room, I just need my own key and some space, a base of operations.
Done. Call Shane. Tells me I’ll have to pay for the month; after all, it’s not a hostel.
When he gets there, I give him rent for the week and a deposit for the key. No arguments.
“Just give me a week’s notice.”

About 25 people living between the 11 rooms in the house. It’s shabby and reputedly haunted (word is, our room is fine), but people seem very nice for the most part.

***

I get back later that night after watching The Castle with Sally [try to find this movie: it is fantastic and essential viewing in terms of Australian pop culture]. Pete, Ian, and a bunch of other Irish people – the house’s predominant nationality – are watching football/soccer, all crowed into Anush and Savit’s room, as it’s the only one with couches and cable.

The game, however, is just filler, being watched in anticipation of the evening’s main event: Ireland vs. Scotland in the Six Nations rugby match. Ireland has only to win the next two games to be the top team. Pete informs me that my attendance is mandatory at the Celtic club in the city to watch the game. Kickoff is at 4am.

The rest of the evening is a blur of beer, cheering, and accents. At one point, mini toasted cheese & bacon sandwiches are passed around. We decide that they are the best thing any of us had ever eaten (there is even talk of them the next day).

Ireland wins, and there is much rejoicing.