Welcome to Elysium House

International Living Postcards--Sunday Edition

Sunday, June 24, 2007
Paris, France

Nine years ago this month, I traveled with a group of International Living readers on a Discovery Tour to Ireland. Each of us came with an agenda--to shop for a retirement home, to consider an investment in the ever-expanding Celtic Tiger market, to see the green fields and thatched-roof cottages of the Emerald Isle firsthand…

In my case, I was researching options for relocating the International Living business. We'd been in discussions with the Irish IDA (Investment Development Agency) for several months. For more than 10 years, the IDA had been working hard to attract foreign investment to Ireland. Their efforts had paid off, and the aggressive program of the decade before was winding down. In fact, we were the last foreign company invited to participate.

We were given three choices. We could set up shop in Sligo, Galway, or Waterford. In return, the Irish government would grant us tax and employee incentives.

One of the Discovery Tour-goers along for the adventure was a guy named Lief Simon, an International Living Lifetime Society Member in Ireland to consider opportunities for property development. I met Lief the first morning of the tour when he offered to help me with e-mail problems I couldn't solve.

Six months later, Lief and I were married and on our way, together, to a new life in Waterford. We showed up with a team of three adventuresome souls, IL staff from our Baltimore office. We five were wide-eyed and enthusiastic.

We needed that enthusiasm, we found, for things didn't always go as painlessly as we might have hoped.

For example, we discovered that the market for office space in Waterford City was tight. That is to say, nobody seemed to want to rent us an office. After weeks of searching, increasingly desperate to find a place to settle ourselves, we followed up on a tip to "Go talk to Ray." No last name, just an address.

We found the building, Catherine's Hall, but Ray wasn't in residence. We explained ourselves to Claire, his assistant.

"Well, Ray doesn't have office space for rent, exactly. But we have this space here," she said, gesturing all around. "We don't need it all, as there are only three of us. Perhaps Ray would be interested in subletting half the room. I'll check with him and get back to you."

When Claire called the next day to say Ray had agreed to rent us half his office, we didn't ask questions. We were happy to have an address. Even if it could be described, as it later was by one of our marketing directors, as "the worst office space in all Waterford."

Our staff numbers doubled over the next couple of years, and we 10 began looking for bigger space of our own. With no better luck than we'd had when we'd first arrived.

Then, one afternoon, an Irish gentleman appeared at our door in Catherine's Hall, looking confused and asking for Ray. Ray wasn't in town, Claire explained (as he never seemed to be), but she'd pass along any message.

"Tell him to get in touch with John Hegarty today," said the Irishman. "I want to know who all these people are in my building."

Mr. Hegarty, it turned out, owned the space we were renting from Ray. But Ray hadn't mentioned his arrangement with us to John, probably because subletting was prohibited in his lease. Furthermore, we later discovered, our rent to Ray each month was greater than the total rent he was paying to John!

Mr. Hegarty returned the next day to tell us we'd have to move out. "But if you need office space," he added, "I have another building available down the street."

We relocated the following week from Catherine's Hall to Number 5 Catherine St., and John Hegarty has been our landlord ever since.

Over these nine years, we've seriously considered pulling the plug on our little Irish operation more than once.

We came to Ireland naively imagining that the move would be transparent…a no-brainer. We Americans feel we know the Irish well. They're just like us, aren't they? They speak English and everything.

They may speak English, but we've found that we often have trouble understanding what they're saying when they talk to us…and vice versa.

And things don't work in Ireland the way they work in the States. The real estate industry, the banking industry…the washing machines.

When we Americans would fret and vent about the frustrations of trying to navigate life Irish-style, our Irish compatriots would respond in typical Irish fashion. They'd offer us a cup of tea. Have a bad day at the office? Fall off your horse at the hunt this morning? Find out your husband is cheating on you?

Ah, no worries. Have a cuppa', offer the Irish, and all will be well. We've come to appreciate the wisdom in this.

We've been thinking lately of our ups and downs over the past nine years growing a business in Ireland as we've prepared to move again, this time to our own building, Elysium House.

Yes, we've thought about leaving, but, about a year ago, we agreed…we wouldn't. We're settled, among these friendly, tea-drinking Irish. We've even found we can weather the winters. (The secret is to spend January and February someplace else…)

Today, our Irish staff numbers nearly 25. Too many for Number 5 Catherine St. When we realized we'd again outgrown Mr. Hegarty's space, we took sober stock of our situation, and, as I explained, we realized Waterford has become International Living's home. Time to put down roots.

We invested, therefore, in a 200-year-old Georgian house on the other side of town that we've spent the past year restoring as much as possible to its original state. Last week, our staff packed their desks, boxed their files, and moved from 5 Catherine St. to the finally fully renovated Elysium House, where they are, as I write, comfortably installed for the long term…and ready to receive visitors.

Next time you find yourself in Ireland's Sunny Southeast, therefore, please look us up. Elysium House. With the red door. We'll put the kettle on.

Kathleen Peddicord
Publisher, International Living

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P.S. At the height of The Troubles, the British planned to torch Elysium House. They liked to burn Ireland's Georgian structures. In this case, though, the Brit sent to do the job stopped first for a pint down the road. One Guinness led to several, and his lips were so loosed that he let slip his mission. A loyal Republican sent word to the owner of Elysium House, who posted guards, and the Brit's plan was spoiled.

We purchased the house from an Irishman who'd bought it a decade earlier from the Church, who'd been using it as a convent and a primary school. Turns out, three of our Irish staff attended the school as young girls…

P.P.S. I'm flying to Ireland today to spend the week in Waterford enjoying our new Elysium House digs. Meantime, here in Paris, on cue, all the city is preparing to depart. School kids aren't released until the first week of July, then, within a matter of days, the population of this city migrates for summer vacance. Some go to country homes here in France…some head south to the beaches…some go farther afield, to Morocco or Egypt…

We, like all other parents of school-aged children, are counting down the days. Jack is finished school July 3. July 5, we leave for three weeks in Panama. From there, our plans are less certain. One thing we know: We won't be back in Paris come September for la rentrée. Stay tuned…