Move in Day

Looking back I realize my timing was perfect. I left the Midwest just as winter was beginning to kick into high gear (or so my mom and the weather reports I occasionally see tell me). I have yet to need anything more than a sweater to keep warm. This, however, will likely bite me in the ass in summer swelters in a land where shorts are considered offensive.

I have a penchant for sweating that turned into a lust as I laboriously trudged from my temporary apartment to my own place about 15 minutes away. Certainly not helping matters was the giant hill I have to climb to leave the coast and head into the city. (The fact that I was abandoning my view of the sea was difficult enough.)

Man, did a cabbie honkfest ensue as I carried almost all of my possessions in a overstuffed travel backpack down Hamra street (despite the fact that I was walking against the flow of traffic on the one-way street, a legality everyone buy moped drivers obeys). It only took me two trips.

There were a few requests we made of our landlord. (He owns only our apartment in a 9-story building.) We asked for a few rugs. When I asked if the place had a washing machine, he said no but that he’d get us one. (I’m not counting this one as a request per se.) Julianne asked for a desk. This we went over a few times. She needed a desk.

The place looked great when we looked at it two days before the big move in. He’d gotten rugs, a washing machine, replaced the carpet in Julianne’s room with piece-it-together hardwood floors, painted the bathtub that was pretty gross, but there was no desk.

Jules and I snooped around a bit more, looking for pots (there were many) and pans (there was one). Samer (our landlord) assured us he’d washed them, “of course.” On our first visit, he assured us the water heater took only a half hour, “maximum, of course,” for a hot shower.

Our first day in the place (Tuesday, Feb. 20), Jules had class until late so she didn’t come until the next day. It was just Martin and I.

Martin is a German guy Jules, Dan and I met my second day here. He approached the three of us to see if we knew of any open apartments. We saw him a few more times over the next week or so. When Jules and I saw our place, there was one room that could easily be converted into a bedroom.

(Quick schematic: there are two units per floor in our building. We’re on the second floor. The first, ground-level floor, however, is floor 0. Our door opens to a hallway with a half bathroom directly ahead. To the left is a doorway to the dining room. The dining room has a doorway to the living room. One of the living room walls faces the street and has windows. One of the dining room walls is made up of glass doors with a wooden divider behind them that can be rolled up or down. Behind the doors and divider is a smallish room where Martin lives. His bedroom doors open to the living room. The other doorway in the living room leads to a small room where the fridge and a water cooler are. To the left is the kitchen with a washing machine. The fridge room opens to the hallway you’re in when you first enter. From the half bathroom another short hallway leads to a full bathroom on the right, Jules’ room on the left and my room straight ahead. Jules and I share a small balcony. There’s an even smaller balcony littered with odds and ends off the kitchen.)

I soon realized “of course” must have been mistranslated when my landlord learned its meaning. The dishes, silverware, pots and pan were pretty dirty. Most of the silverware was sticky. The pots were lined with the burned remnants of various foodstuffs. (Which came off after some scrubbing.)

The tank in the bathroom that stores hot water, which should provide it after being turned for a half an hour, needs to be on overnight. Shaving with cold water does not feel good.

Our refrigerator does not work. The freezer works fine, but the fridge is not cold. Also, it leaks water. I’m not sure from where as there is no water line going into it. Perhaps it is condensation amassing where the freezer meets enclosed room that is warmer than the room it’s in beneath it. Who knows?