New to the Parish: ‘I’ve always seen myself as socially awkward’

John Norrman: arrived from Sweden, 2012

Bartending for John Norrman is more than just a means of paying the bills. Every night before he leaves for work, he puts on a wing-tip shirt and a fitted waistcoat and carefully arranges his cravat. His work clothes are like an outfit from the 1800s, he says. They match the decor and style of the bar where he works.

“What got me interested in bartending was the history and nostalgia, but what kept me in bartending was the interaction and people,” says the young Swede as he bites into a toasted cheese sandwich in a Temple Bar coffee shop. “If you were a bartender in the 1800s in the US, you were someone that everyone – the mayor, the lawyers – trusted with any kind of information.”

Things changed in the 20th century as more people finished school and went on to study at university, he says. Not having a college degree, bartenders weren’t respected in the same way any more.

Attitudes towards barmen are changing again, he says. “Bartending is a trade that is seeing passion coming back in to it. It used to be a necessity to get you through college, but now we’re seeing a new passion for the job.”

Aside from his Scandinavian looks, Norrman could easily be mistaken for a Dubliner. His speaks English with a local lilt in his accent. Only the occasional pause and slight inflection in his voice gives away this young barman’s Swedish roots.

“I blame Arnold Schwarzenegger and James Bond for my English,” he jokes. He began learning English at school aged nine. Exposure to movies, computer games and the international media helped his language skills.

“If you look at Spanish, Italian and French, there’s what, 40 million people in those countries? It’s a necessity because there’s only nine million of us. If we’re going to get something out of the world we need to have English.”

He struggled to understand Irish expressions and mannerisms when he arrived in Dublin in early 2012. He felt “alien” to Irish society and found it difficult using words such as “banter” and “craic” in his everyday speech.

“When I first came here I wasn’t really able to assimilate myself with the Irish way of socialising and the way Irish people talk. Language is such an important part of interaction with people.”

Life in the bush

As a child, he struggled to interact even with those who spoke his native language. He was brought up outside the town of Uddevalla near Gothenburg in western Sweden, where he lived “out in the bush”.

At school he was bullied for being a country boy who only went into town for McDonald’s or shopping with his mum. “I grew up in pretty closed-off surroundings about 15 minutes outside town on a gravel road. The town was always the town; it was never somewhere we spent our childhood.”

Norrman’s zest for learning led him to try out an array of professions in his late teens and early 20s. He studied car mechanics before doing a course in political science in the hopes of becoming a journalist. He also wanted to be a hairdresser, and took a beginner’s course in Arabic.

“I’ve always been a very passionate person, always choosing things with my heart as opposed to with my brain. I’m still extremely interested in hair; I’m still extremely interested in cars. It’s just passions that I’ve had through my life.”

A bad break-up with a girlfriend coupled with the long dark nights of the Nordic winter prompted Norrman to book a last-minute trip to Dublin in January 2012. “Someone told me give yourself something to look forward to so you can shake it. So I booked a trip to Dublin because it was super-cheap.”

He found an office job in Leixlip and spent six weeks living in a 12-person dorm in a hostel with Italians, French people and Spaniards who had also come to Dublin in search of work and adventure.

“Avalon House hostel is a bit of a hub for people who stay here for longer periods than normal tourists. It was an amazing experience; staying in that hostel was one of the best times I’ve had in my life.”

Norrman quickly realised he had not come to Dublin to work in an office. “I hated it. I didn’t want an office job: sitting in a chair, answering calls. I love working on a computer but there was no creative output.”

He quit his job, and, despite having no experience in bartending, he began working in the Marble Bar in the Westbury Hotel. He loved interacting with customers but lacked confidence working behind the bar. “I sucked at it. I was really bad. When I got grief from others I got even worse.” Fortunately, his boss could see his passion for the trade and decided to train him in.

“I’ve always identified myself as socially awkward,” says Norrman. I’m really good at socialising with people on a superficial level. I’m good at being the circus clown, but when that barrier is brought down, then I become weird.”

Norrman began developing his skills as a cocktail bartender, working at some of the new bars popping up in the capital. In November 2014 he was offered a job in the Liquor Rooms on Wellington Quay.

“I’ve never spent so much of my time off in work and never felt so connected with a workplace. It’s the most closely knit team I’ve ever worked with.”

He describes the past year in the Liquor Rooms as “an education”.

“It’s a university, a school for bartenders. The human mind is only happy if it’s developing, if you feel like you’re learning. And the Liquor Rooms as a venue is a base for that education.”

Working in Irish bars has allowed Norrman to play a role in the revival of old-school hospitality, bringing a certain passion back into bartending. “The Irish pub is famous for that interaction; that friendliness and different approach to hospitality.”

• We would like to hear from people who have moved to Ireland in the past five years. To get involved, email newtotheparish@irishtimes.com