The apartment

The keys I had for my apartment didn’t open it. The locks were changed. So we hired a specialist. A break-in specialist. He asked me what the story was. I told him I was away for 9 years and someone changed the locks to my house. He nodded and went to work. He climbed the roof of our four-story condo building and descended to my balcony on the ropes. He broke the glass, opened the balcony door, went in and opened the front door from the inside. He didn’t ask to see any papers, just asked my name and got a phone number. The fee was $10 and the whole job took 15 min. Need a break-in job, anyone?

The apartment was in shambles. Worse – it was in ruin. Literally. Old to start with, it was badly taken care of for the last 9 years. In fact, it wasn’t taken care of at all. It was so bad I almost cried. Not only the place was falling apart, but everything I knew and remembered was gone. My cousin got rid of everything that was not his and replaced it with the stuff from his house, which he emptied and rented out prior to coming to the US.
Nice!
Okay, not everything was gone. The books were still here. I was reunited with my library which I missed a lot. Some of the books I was able to find in US in English, but many were never translated and I missed them. It was like meeting old friends.

I had to vacate the rented apartment in three days, and there was no way I could move into mine without some major cleaning and renovating. The three of us wouldn’t be able to do it in a month. But God is good and he delivered once again. That evening I found one more of my mom’s friend. A very able and well connected businesswoman, and a very nice person. Much younger than my mom, she was one of her best friends nonetheless. Anyway, she grasped the situation immediately, jumped right in and pretty much took charge. The next morning we were already cleaning the apartment. Us three, my mom’s friend and a hired help.

It took the five of us three days to make it look habitable. By the third evening none except the hired help could move a muscle. AND I hurt my back (ouch! It still hurts.) But we moved in.

(A very nice lady, that hired woman, and a true professional. She worked so fast and so well, I have no idea what we would do without her. And for only $10 a day. Somehow, it doesn’t seem fair, but such is the price of labor here. In fact, it’s a pretty good pay compared to what others earn.)

One the women were done and there was a clean spot to put an ashtray, the guys came and held a pow-wow. My dad and my ex. They discussed in detail everything that needs to be done. They told me what I need to buy and how much it should cost and not a penny more. Then they took turns coming with me to hardware market to buy stuff. (The hardware market is a chapter in itself, so I’ll tell you all about it later.)
The toilet was leaking. We expected it will, but wanted to make sure. The downstairs neighbor came and told us it’s leaking for sure. In fact, he took us downstairs and showed us. He wasn’t angry, just trying to be helpful. We figured it needs to be changed. So I went to the neighborhood services department to look for a plumber.

I walked in and told them who I am and why I am here. They told me my building is not their territory, but I can ask the guy over there. The guy over there walked with me outside and called another guy. I asked who the plumber is. They told me they both are. Both looked more like Italian movie stars, trying for a mafia part in an action thriller. Spotless white shirts, pressed black slacks, black lacquered pointy shoes… They came, looked at my cracked toilet and the puddle on the floor and said they will do it. Tomorrow, and in no more than two hours. 130 bucks. And they need 100 now to buy the materials. Again, no papers, nothing to sign, just their word. I said a quick prayer and asked for a name and a phone number. I called the number and made sure his phone rings. Then I handed over the money.
They came the next morning as promised. This time the shirts were black. The work clothes, apparently. The work was done in two hours, the rest of the money handed over.
-Where are the old bewhiskered plumber guys in overalls? – I asked my dads when they were gone.
-They no longer exist, - said he. Plumbing is a big business now, and makes big money, so these guys are more businessmen than handymen.
Okay then. At least we can pee without prompting neighborly visits…