Somehow when we decided to have an adventure, I dreamed of sunny beaches and Miami Vices, not flooding pipes and power outages. One tends to forget about the day-to-day hassles of life.
Moving into our new place has been a challenge. At least the place was vacant. We felt for the poor family who came here on vacation yesterday to find one of the downstairs units occupied when they had prepaid $600 for the week. Our landlord is a bit spaced out.
The entryway shows the home's lavish roots.
Bruce and his son were living here and moved out late so the cleaning lady, Rose, didn't have much time to clean before arrived. However, we weren't prepared for some of the gross surprises we found, like crusty jam on the tile floor, a greasy cook top and armies of ants.
This is our bedroom - gotta love that wallpaper!
It is easy to imagine this casa as the elegant home it was in its heyday. Aussies aren't always politically correct; Bruce described the decor and architecture as WOP Op, meaning opulent places built by prosperous blue collar Italian people. This neighborhood was predominantly Italian and the well-maintained homes are gorgeous. (We also love the Italian restaurant a block away!)
Unfortunately, this one is in a time warp except for all the functional things that need major attention. The furniture doesn't look too bad in the photos but the beds were like torture racks, the velvet (yes, velvet!) curtains look like they've never been cleaned and the cushions are not the least bit cushy. We have since bought a bed and a couch since who knows when we'll get our shipment. It's not even supposed to arrive in Sydney until mid-November.
Can you imagine how much this tiling would cost today?
Dirt can be cleaned so things were looking up but the kitchen didn't even have an oven. Thanks to Rose, our landlord installed a new oven and even bought us a new barbie - that's an outdoor grill to you Yanks. The ants have been vanquished and the kitchen is much more cheerful as well as more functional with yellow paint on the walls, a new baseboard and a portable dishwasher we bought.
We felt like the place was livable until the hot water disappeared, providing us first-hand understanding of the term cold water flat. The landlord arranged for the plumbers to install a new water heater and to remove the old one from the roof. The afternoon before they came, I heard a funny sound in the kitchen that didn't sound like good news. While I was calling Rose to report it, buckets of water started streaming down in the kitchen, toilet and bathroom. I put buckets out and used every towel and blanket in the house to keep it from spreading before I finally reached the landlord two hours later. I couldn't figure out why the flooding didn't stop when the rain quit but it turns out the hot water heater on the roof exploded. He's lucky I didn't throttle him when he told me the first thing I should do is to move the wet towels onto the patio. I just glared at him, told him I was done and went to the other room to read a book.
When the plumbers came the next day to install the new water heater, they caused a second flood. Murphy must hate us because the following day the power went out due to a problem with the stove top. We thought about moving but housing is tight here with a booming economy. I was tempted to cry but reminded myself of the hurricane and tornado victims and other homeless people and it put things into perspective. Things are much better now. This is the best part of the house, the back patio.
This is the view from the deck if you're tall. You can see the boats at the Yacht Club if you look closely.
This whole experience has brought us back to our penniless college days. The way the stock market is going, we may be there anyway! As we joked with Nancie and Chuck, we will embrace our inner cockroach and enjoy ourselves despite our roadblocks. Do come to see us. As they say here, we'll get it all sorted out.
People-watching here never fails to entertain me. Our nephew, JP, a Hollywood script writer, would get lots of good material from the folks I see on my almost daily CAT bus rides. Today I saw a bagpipe player with an orange Mohawk, multiple body piercings and a wild array of tattoos rocking out with a Scottish ditty. A gaggle of seniors of various backgrounds critiqued his performance and appearance. (He's actually quite good if you're a bagpipe lover.) I heard German, Italian, and Aussie comments but my favorite was, “Crikey! He looks a right rooster and sounds like a castrated kangaroo.”
There is always an assortment of tourists and I am amused by their comments and observations. I'm getting so I can tell the Germans from the Italians but am still mystified by the origins of the Asians. I thought I had a family all figured out yesterday until I heard one of the children speaking English with an Australian accent. I must remind myself that this is a nation of recent immigrants. People are often surprised that we aren’t planning to settle here permanently. It's a great place but I don't think it will ever be home!
