Unrecognizable

Our apartment has wood floors in the bedrooms.  They are unsealed.  That means you can't just run a mop over them - you need to wax them.  And I don't do floors.

One of my most vivid memories of my vacations to visit family in South Africa when I was growing up, was to see my grandparents' maids on their hands and knees waxing the wood floors in the morning.  Every morning.  And I would wonder why they just didn't vacuum.  Now I know why.

Rants About Ecuador

Caution:  Really long rants ahead!

Yesterday really sucked.  I mean, it was one of those days that made me wonder why I live here and how terrible working here could be.  Two events occurred while dealing with vendors that made me wonder if they had ever heard the phrase "customer service" or understood the concept of "don't lie to your customers".  I'll start with the photographer.

In our contract with the wedding photographer it stated that we would receive 200 prints a CD with digital copies of those two weeks after the wedding.  Well, two weeks after the wedding, nothing.  Three weeks, nothing. Finally, a month after the wedding he finally asks us to come to his studio to show us the photos.

Perfect Sunday

Lounging in the hammock while Carlos does the dishes (Sunday is my day off).

Our Garden

After living in our apartment for almost eight months, we finally planted a little garden.  Not that it was barren before, we have some sizable trees and plants, including an enormous rosemary bush.  But we finally got around to planting a herb garden.

Morning Ritual

Carlos wakes up at 7AM.  Without an alarm clock.  I don't know how he does it - the only time I have witnessed him oversleep is when he has been ill.  I don't wake up then.  I mean, I hear him, but burrow back underneath the covers until 7:45AM or so when he comes to say goodbye and then leaves for work.  I am awake then, but still refusing to leave the bed.  I stay there until about 8:30AM.  The only reason I get up is because I'm having nightmares again, and I know if I stay in bed they will stay in my head.

After being off my thyroid medicine for a month and being put back on it a few days ago, I feel 100% sure that these nightmares are drug induced.  They are the sort of dreams that would be called delusions if they occurred while I was awake.  I wake up mumbling to Carlos about dinosaurs or floods or my brother wearing a Victorian suit, complete with top hat (he actually has the top hat, I think it was our grandfather's).  If engineering doesn't work out for me, I'm sure I would have a profitable fiction career based on these dreams.  But they are not just dreams, they are nightmares.  Nightmares are dreams whose effects linger throughout the day.

After I get out of bed I make some tea and get dressed and get on the computer.  Everything is fine and normal until about 9:50AM.  There may be a 10AM blackout.  So I finish my downloads. complete important correspondence, warn who ever I am talking to that I may disappear at soon.  But at 10AM everything is fine.  Then 10:01AM.  10:02AM.  10:03AM.  We're safe for now, I can consider doing laundry.  10:04AM.  Then the beeping starts.  The power is out (for some reason something in the neighbor's house starts beeping when there is no power).  It will return at 1PM.  Until then I really can't do much.  I need to find matches if I want to light the stove.  Laundry is out of the question.  I can wash dishes.  Or I can read.  Or write thank you notes.  Or see if we need anything at the market.  Or take a walk in the cemetery.

Sometimes it is 10:06AM and we still have power.  Phew.  I can cook lunch.  I can bake bread.  I can do laundry.  I can download lectures from the London School of Economics to listen to during the day (my new favorite educational podcast to listen to, though This American Life will never be dethroned).  And at 12:55PM, I do the same thing I did three hours earlier, seeing if the 1PM blackout will blanket the neighborhood.

And then it is no longer a morning ritual.

Feliz Aniversario

Today is exactly one year since I started taking Spanish lessons. I wouldn't call myself fluent, but I'm getting closer every day.

Also, it happens to be the 5th anniversary of the purchase of my condo. That means only 25 more years left on my mortgage!

King Solomon

I have been fortunate enough to inherit my father's skin and metabolism. And hair. Apparently I have tons of gray hairs on the back of my head. I can't see them, but my in-laws, nieces, and nephews assure me that I do. But that's not the point.

Like Fight Club, this is about soap.

For the past 10 years or so I have been washing my face with a bar of Purpose. It's made by Johnson & Johnson, so that means it's available everywhere. Except Ecuador. So I try to conserve the soap by keeping it dry in a dish next to the shower. But daily, my soap seems to appear into the soap dish that is in the shower.

After a few weeks of telling Carlos how amazed I was that the soap always seemed to jump out of my soap dish, he tried to convince me that his soap dish was a better place for the soap! I wasn't buying that. I mean, I'm stubborn. And it's my soap.

So, I came up with a solution...

And We're Back...

Yesterday, we finally got internet in our apartment. It took three months, which I don't know if that is quick or slow. Anyway, I can now once again connect with the world.

More Night Visitors

I was all cozy in bed last night, and Carlos was already asleep, when I decided that I needed to use the toilet. When I returned to bed, I slipped off a sandal and put my foot on the floor for balance. But I didn't touch the floor, just a cold slimy mass. I jumped in to bed and peeked over the side to see another slug! I woke up Carlos to complain. He was not very happy to be woken up, so mumbled that we should just salt it.

So I did.

The next morning we had a squishy mass of preserved slug on the floor, which Carlos graciously removed for me.

Does anyone know how to discourage these visitors?

Night Visitors

The other night we had a little visitor in our home...


If you didn't quite get a good look, here is a close up...


Yep, we had a big fat slug in the house. Plus two more in the front yard. Carlos swept them all into the street.

They should keep in mind, the next time they think about visiting, that we now have our welcome mat doused with salt.

Before and After

We've been in the apartment for about a week. We have made some progress in a few rooms, but sadly, we still do not have a dining room table. However, we do have a lovely living room...

Before

After

Before
After

I think we need a rug, but we haven't gotten that far yet...

Roughing It

The shower in our apartment sucks. It's electric, and supposedly made for the sierra, i.e., cooler climates. For the water to be hot, there is absolutely no pressure. But when there is enough pressure to actually rinse your body, the water is cold. We have already spoken to the owner about replacing it, which we plan to do this weekend.

We Have Our Refrigerator

At about 3:45PM on Tuesday afternoon the delivery guys came to replace our refrigerator. They were supposed to be there at 3PM. Actually, they were supposed to be there at 5PM on Monday, then between 9AM and 9:30AM that morning.

Carlos was in meetings most of Tuesday morning, but every hour or so he would text me asking if the fridge had arrived yet. No. Not yet. Still not here. Nada.

Around 1PM Carlos went to the store to complain. He told the manager that yesterday they had told him that the fridge would be delivered between 9AM and 9:30AM that day and that I had been waiting all morning and no one had arrived. So the manager called the delivery guys (on a radio or walkie talkie) and apparently the conversation went something like this...

“You were supposed to deliver a fridge to this address this morning.”
“Oh, you never told us about that delivery.”
“Yes, I did.”
“No, you didn't, it's not here on the schedule.”
“I did. And I have the client here with me.”
“Well, you still didn't tell us.”
“That doesn't matter, can you deliver the fridge this afternoon?”
“Sure, we'll be there around 3PM.”

OK, so this is a secondhand conversation that has been translated from Spanish, but that's the gist of it. The delivery guys arrived at 3:45PM and replaced the fridge within 10 minutes. The second they left I wiped down the fridge, inside and out, and sent Carlos a message to buy me butter (for the past week I've wanted to bake a cake – we have all the ingredients except for butter because there was nowhere to store it).

He wasn't able to bring the butter. He stopped at home after his afternoon meeting, but then had to go back to work for an hour before his evening meetings. However, he had stopped at the municipality to ask about the internet. My next task is to wait for the internet inspection.

They will be by between 8AM and 8PM on Thursday.

Settling In

We still don't have internet in out apartment, so I am writing offline, and will post this when I go to Mami and Papi's later. Right now I am waiting for the delivery guys. It's 11:40AM on Tuesday and they were supposed to be here between 9 and 9:30AM to replace the fridge. When it arrived on Saturday (at exactly 10AM, when they said they would come) it had a big chip in the paint on the door. We didn't notice it right away, since we had to remove all the boxes and wrapping, and the guys also delivered the washer, drier, and stove at the same time.

When we called in the afternoon to complain, the women said that we should have told the delivery guys when they were here so they could take it back (um, lady, we were a bit busy at that moment). She said that they would replace it on Monday night at 5PM. Well, after calling at 5:30PM and 6PM last night and being assured that they were coming, we called again at 6:30PM to be told that in fact, they would not be replacing the fridge that night. But they would come Tuesday morning between 9 and 9:30AM.

But the lady didn't tell us when the technicians, who were also supposed to show up at 5PM to connect the washer and drier, would arrive. They actually did show up at 6:30PM, just as we were trying to call the lady back. Our laundry room is in the courtyard, so it was dark while they were connecting the machines and all they had was the light from a dinky cell phone. Not very professional. So we let them use our headlamp and they connected the machines and I now am spending the day doing laundry. Our washer has a glass lid and it's pretty cool to see the process.

Scratch that. I mean scary.



Any suggestions on how to exorcise a washing machine?

The Move

We started moving Friday night, and as of Monday morning we have moved about 95% of our stuff into our apartment. Of the things that have been moved in, about half has a place. We still have boxes and bags sitting around the apartment, brimming with unknown items. Therefore, we still can't find everything we need yet (i.e., tape measure, soap, phone charger, etc.).

This move has been a bit different than those I've experienced in the past. It's probably because my items here in Ecuador could fit in two suitcases and a backpack. My last big move involved dozens of boxes that were all precisely labeled with not only the contents, but the date, who packed it, the relative weight, and special instructions. Like this...

Books K-S
9/26/09
JJ
heavy

sheets and towels
9/30/06
JJ
light
Wash Me!

During the last move I knew that it would be at least a year and a half until I saw the boxes again, so I was so proud of my specificity. As wonderful as I thought that system was, the last time I was home (two and a half years since the boxes were packed) I could not find Kafka in “Books K-S”. Nor in “Books F-K” either. So my system was not quite as successful as I had hoped.

Back to Cuenca. Over the course of three days, Carlos, myself, and various nephews moved multiple truckloads of items the mile and a half from his parents house to our new apartment. I didn't really help with the packing or moving of his stuff. I'm too weak to carry the furniture, and really had no idea how much of his thirty years at home that he wanted to bring to our apartment. He was a bit annoyed that I didn't help him pack his stuff, but I would have probably thrown away old papers that have sentimental value to him. So I tried to manage and organize the new apartment instead.

I know that I shouldn't be using the terms “mine” and “his”, but rather ours. But really, those books in English, they are mine. The dead bugs pinned to cork board that hangs on the wall, that's his.

Putting the bed back together was an ordeal. While it took about five minutes to take apart, it took about three hours to put back together. The four corners of the frame had L-brackets that just didn't line up. If three screws fit, the fourth one did not. At every corner. While the headboard and footboard were different, the two sides were identical and unlabeled, so we switched those about three times, hoping that they would fit better on the other side. After one nephew had to leave, Carlos called his brother-in-law, who is a mechanic and very adept, to help us put the bed together. He was able to do it and we didn't need to spend the first night in our new apartment on the floor.

However, it will take a few more weeks until everything here is in order. We have most of the essentials, but are still missing some useful additions. For example, we don't have any bookshelves. In Carlos's room they were built in. Here I have piles of books. We don't have a dining room table either. We have been picnicing, when we've eaten here at all. We couldn't even cook until last night when Carlos finally attached the gas tank to the oven. When I say finally, it was not because he hadn't gotten around to it, but because it's not quite as simple as it is in the states.

Carlos had to drill holes through two concrete walls so we could put the gas tank in the courtyard. We didn't have a drill, so we needed to borrow one. After one hole was drilled, Carlos realized that the drill didn't reach the other wall, so at 8PM on a Sunday night we needed to find an extension cord. But nothing is open here at 8PM Sunday night. We were able to borrow one from his aunt that lives across the street, but had to wait a little while, since she was just ironing the curtains that she had made for us. But it got done. And the curtains are lovely.

So last night I was able to have a cup of tea and Carlos had some hot chocolate. Fortunately, milk is shelf stable here, since our refrigerator has yet to be plugged in. It was delivered on Saturday morning, but it wasn't until after the delivery men had left, did we notice a huge chip in the paint of the door. We called the store and they said that they would send a replacement Monday evening. Thus we will be eating with Mami and Papi for another day or two.

With that said, it's time for lunch.

Oh, So That's How It REALLY Works

On Friday afternoon, at around 1PM, Mami is frantically knocking on my office door.

Apparently I hadn't heard Papi yelling for me (I still don't know how I could have missed that, he's pretty loud). The phone company had called him (don't know why him and not Carlos) and said that they were at the apartment to install the line. We had a suspicion that something was up when that morning Carlos was complaining that he couldn't get service on our landline. But, I had no time to argue about the fact that they said they would only be there Monday, there was just enough time to grab the phone from the office and rush to the apartment with Mami (Carlos was at work).

We arrived at the apartment and one guy needed to do an inspection. That was quite easy because there had never been any phone service there. We walked through all the rooms and there were no phone jacks. None. I don't know why I didn't notice that last week when I checked all the outlets (the only one that didn't function was the one in the bathroom). Around this time Carlos arrived.

So, no phone jacks = no phone line.

One of the workers then crossed the street with a length of phone cable, climbed a pole, and basically attached the wire to the pole. Simple as that. He ran it to a smaller pole just outside our house and tacked it to there as well. In the corner of our office window, he chiseled a hole through the wall with a hammer and screwdriver, then threaded the other end of the wire through. We then went inside and asked if we have a phone jack. What? Um, no. I had no idea that we had to buy our own.

Carlos ran to a hardware store to buy one. Well, he went to about two or three that were closed, since it was lunch time, before finding one that is open. It cost 25 cents. By the time he came back the phone line has been checked and is proven to be working, so all the workers had to do was put the phone line in at one end and the cable in the other and we had a working phone.

The whole process took less than an hour. It probably would have been less if we had known that they were coming and that we needed to buy our own phone jack. But within 24 hours of our request we had a working phone.

I hope that getting internet will be as easy.

The Way Things Work Here

Yesterday Carlos informed me that it would take three to four weeks to get a phone line installed in our new apartment. I didn't mind too much, since I never use the phone. But apparently you need a phone line to get internet. A month without internet! That, I could not handle.

I gently reminded Carlos that if we don't have a phone in our home office, and that if he doesn't yet have a phone is his work office, he wouldn't be able to work (yeah, he's two months into his job and they haven't given him a phone yet so he spends half the day working from home). He said he would figure something out. And he did.

Today Carlos went to the municipality to start the request for the phone line in our apartment. They looked at his name, then asked if so-and-so is his brother (yes, he is, and he has worked for the municipality for about 15 years) and if so-and-so is his sister (yes, she is, possibly an old friend). OK, they said, we can install the line for you this Monday.

That's the way things work here.

Our Apartment

Here are the "before" photos...

Entrance

Dining Room (taken from living room)

Kitchen (bigger than in Delft)

Courtyard (taken from kitchen)

No photos of the bedrooms, because without any furniture the photos just look like a bit of door and two painted walls with some windows. Oh, I guess I should add one because Dad was asking about the floors.

Bedroom (one of three)

Last Saturday, we also measured all the windows (for curtains) and the rooms (for furniture dynamics). Our apartment is almost 1100 square feet, a bit less than my previous estimate, but still feels spacious for just two of us.

We move in next Saturday.

Apartment Hunting

Carlos and I have spent the past few weeks looking for an apartment. Living with his parents is nice, I think if we had moved out earlier I would have been a bit lonely. In their house there are always visitors, always life. I am forced to practice my Spanish here.

But Carlos feels that it's time to leave the nest. His only experience not living with his parents was our time in Holland. On the other hand, I haven't lived with my parents for almost 10 years (though I do enjoy visiting). I've had five dorm rooms, two apartments, a full year of hostels and tents, one condo, and almost one year with the future in-laws.

Our budget is $200 per month. A typical salary here is $1000 per month. Qualified professionals can make more, working for a mining company one can earn $3500 per month. Minimum wage is $230 per month.

Like everything else in this country, looking for an apartment here is different than in the US. In the states, the visit takes five minutes, you look around the place to get an impression and say to the person showing, "We need to think about it. We'll call tomorrow." You say this if you love it or even if you hate it. Or, if during the visit you make enough eye contact with your partner/roommate(s) to agree that you both/all hate the place, you just say, "Thanks, but it's too big/small."

In Ecuador, the first visit can take an hour. You walk through the apartment. Every room is pointed out, even if it is obvious (i.e., this is the bathroom, this is the kitchen). The walk though takes five minutes, like in the states. But then you discuss. You discuss the apartment, who owns it, and if you know them ("yes, your friend is my cousin"). Then you talk a bit more about the neighborhood, the neighbors ("oh, my friend's parents live on this street") and if the park around the corner is noisy. Then you discuss the parking, the utilities, the price, the contract, and what day of the month rent is due. This is all done even before Carlos and I have discussed with each other if we even want to live there. And usually, as soon as we return to the car, we turn to each other and agree that indeed we don't want to live there.

We have probably seen a dozen apartments, all of which ranged from decent to bad to terrible. One had no windows. It was the right size, two bedrooms, one bathroom, appliances included. But not a single window. Another was spacious and full of light, set in a garden on a hill with amazing views of the city. But it smelled a bit musty and the owner told us that the water marks on the walls were just places where they ran out of the other color of paint. Uh huh, right.

Then there was the apartment where the kitchen was outside. It was downstairs, and next to it was a tiny little room, presumably the pantry. Or was it the dining room? Upstairs was the rest of the apartment. You entered through the bedroom and had to pass it to get to the bathroom and living room. Like that bar in Chicago where you need to walk through the band to get to the bathroom. The whole place was awful and decrepit. For $170. However, if we wanted to live in the house below, which was three times bigger and ten times nicer, it would be $250. Not a bad option, but I didn't trust the owners after seeing that apartment.

Finally, we found one. Actually, Mami found it for us. It is across the street from her sister's apartment, and she saw the "for rent" sign in the window when she was visiting one day. We visited and Carlos immediately fell in love with the place. I liked it too, but it just seemed too big for just two people. It has three bedrooms, one bathroom, smallish kitchen, but sizable dining room and living room. Plus, there is an interior courtyard that is covered, but still open air (for laundry). I would guess that it's about 1300 to 1500 square feet.

Anyway, I had some reservations at first. Besides thinking it was too big (what the hell are we going to do with a third bedroom?), the parking space was too small. Or one can say, our truck is about five feet too long. Actually, it's about three feet too long to fit in the space, but then we wouldn't be able to open the front door.

But both problems have been resolved. We will use one bedroom as a bedroom, another as an office, and the third, the one with the least light, will be only for the TV (since we have lived together I have been on a continuous campaign to rid the TV from the bedroom, I find it distracting and anti-social). Carlos's aunt across the street has a parking space but no car, and out truck fits there. By the way, when I say parking space, I mean a secure one. Here, you can't just leave your car on the street overnight. That's asking for trouble.

We haven't signed the lease yet, but will do so in a few days. We plan on cleaning the place and packing up this weekend, then moving in the next. We plan on bribing his teenage nephews to help us with the move. That's the only thing that I think is the same as in the states...payment for moving is beer and pizza.