We had only been asleep for a few hours when the doorbell rang.
It's a loud doorbell, and we've grown to loathe it over the past few weeks. With the marble floors and complete lack of wall coverings the sound has nowhere to go but around in circles. It just hangs in the air. I'll go out on a limb and say that every time the doorbell rings we're secretly clinging to the hope that it's either our maid or our driver. We like both very much, and everyone else that comes to the apartment seems to offer little more than some new sort of inconvenience. The first morning was no exception
I got up, pulled on jeans and a shirt, and answered the door. It was the help, in the form of the two guys (teenagers) that came with the apartment to do "whatever". We exchanged a few words that neither of us understood, and they walked into the the apartment and around the corner to the dining room. I followed them in and we stared at each other for a good 30 seconds. Obviously we were all confused not just about what was going on, but what was supposed to be going on. They decided to clarify things by pulling some blankets and pillows out of a closet and laying down on the ground.
I figured that was about as good a resolution I was going to get at that point, walked back into the bedroom, locked the door, and went back to sleep with the rest of the family.
There was a lot of activity out there over the next couple of hours. Doorbells ringing, people coming and going, phones ringing, and conversations in hushed tones. Of course by this time we were all awake, huddled under our mosquito net and watching Indian soap operas with the worst quality cable TV picture I've ever seen (I later found out there was a loose connection). I had also charged up my local cellphone by now, and was using it to try and contact any one of the five people I knew in India. I desperately wanted to know how to say "Get Out" in Tamil, and also figure out if we we're going to have a communal living experience for the next three months. I couldn't get in touch with anyone.
When things died down outside I decided to take another peek to see if we were alone or not. We were. I looked out the peep hole on the front door and found that the party had moved outside to the landing by the elevator. Better, but still not great.
We started sorting through our suitcases and getting things organized as best we could. Every 20 minutes or so the help would knock on our door and ask "coffee tea?". We kept saying "no" since we really didn't want to open the door to another stranger-party in our house. Eventually they left the landing and started calling by phone instead.
A couple of hours later we called the agent that we had rented the apartment through. He put us in touch with the management team, one of who lived directly beneath us. She came upstairs and we had a chat.
She speaks English pretty well, and we managed to get the help situation straightened out along with setting up times for the maid to come and clean. We stressed that we were more interested in privacy than in having someone wait on us 24 hours a day, although we've since found that a little 'waiting' isn't too bad.
We asked her where the closest grocery store was, and she gave us simple directions. Left from the apartment building, left on the first street, right on the first street after that. And to find an ATM? Easy. Two rights from the apartment building. Uh huh.
We loaded the boys up in their stroller and set out get get some food and money. We quickly found that the neighborhood we're living in is in no way conducive to strollers, or even walking for that matter. It would be more accurate to say that it's downright hostile towards strollers and walking. What sidewalks they do have are either covered with parked motorcycles and scooters or undergoing repair, and in the rare case it was usable, the 12" curbs made it somewhat challenging to get the stroller on and off. So we walked in traffic with everyone else.
We did find an ATM (nowhere near where it was supposed to be), but we finally gave up looking for the grocery store. The boys were both sleeping and we were worn out and sweating like race horses from the heat, so we went home and took a nap instead.
When things died down outside I decided to take another peek to see if we were alone or not. We were. I looked out the peep hole on the front door and found that the party had moved outside to the landing by the elevator. Better, but still not great.
We started sorting through our suitcases and getting things organized as best we could. Every 20 minutes or so the help would knock on our door and ask "coffee tea?". We kept saying "no" since we really didn't want to open the door to another stranger-party in our house. Eventually they left the landing and started calling by phone instead.
A couple of hours later we called the agent that we had rented the apartment through. He put us in touch with the management team, one of who lived directly beneath us. She came upstairs and we had a chat.
She speaks English pretty well, and we managed to get the help situation straightened out along with setting up times for the maid to come and clean. We stressed that we were more interested in privacy than in having someone wait on us 24 hours a day, although we've since found that a little 'waiting' isn't too bad.
We asked her where the closest grocery store was, and she gave us simple directions. Left from the apartment building, left on the first street, right on the first street after that. And to find an ATM? Easy. Two rights from the apartment building. Uh huh.
We loaded the boys up in their stroller and set out get get some food and money. We quickly found that the neighborhood we're living in is in no way conducive to strollers, or even walking for that matter. It would be more accurate to say that it's downright hostile towards strollers and walking. What sidewalks they do have are either covered with parked motorcycles and scooters or undergoing repair, and in the rare case it was usable, the 12" curbs made it somewhat challenging to get the stroller on and off. So we walked in traffic with everyone else.
We did find an ATM (nowhere near where it was supposed to be), but we finally gave up looking for the grocery store. The boys were both sleeping and we were worn out and sweating like race horses from the heat, so we went home and took a nap instead.
5 comments:
Hi Friends,
I'm afraid I can't find FREE Penthous (sic). Sorry.
Oh, my. Yes, the difference between the privacy Westerners value and the communal nature of Eastern society is bound to present some issues! I would have just stayed huddled under the mosquito net all day!
Hi Jana,
I deleted the spam comment, but it will certainly live on forever in our hearts and minds.
Alex
P.S. You know who liked communal living? Charles Manson! ;-)
I just love your blogs! Your comments and adventures are so funny! Fortunately our 3 month stinch in Ripon is FAR less exciting.. and much more quiet!
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