A Royal Flush

After taking a sponge bath in the kitchen sink this morning with an ever alert ear out for sounds of guests getting up, I dragged myself off to the university. My office hours kept me there until 12:30, so there were fantasies of the plumber having the pipe at least 3/4 finished. I called home and Ron said he was SMS'ed by the neighbor that they would not come back until tomorrow at 9:00. Hmmmm....call in sick or see how much of me I can fit into the kitchen sink. At least all of the guests have left today.

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The Last of the Whine

Since we live in a secured building, 99% of the time, when we get someone visiting, they have to ring our bell to be let into the building. One percent of our guests have been sneaky enough to get in with another resident as they are coming in. So when our front doorbell rings, we are a bit suspicious as to who may be there. Last night the doorbell did not ring, but there was knock at 10:30 pm. We ignored it until the knock persisted. Ron knew immediately, who it would be...THE NEIGHBOR. We were informed that at 1:00 tomorrow, the manager of the building would be coming to look at the flood in their two bathrooms and to investigate our leak. I have learned not to allow this to make my nights sleepless. It could be age, but we have covered our bases, so it was with confidence it was not our problem that I went to bed. When 1:30 rolled around and no one showed, I remained mellow reading my book "The Shadow of the Sun" about the horrors of Africa by the Polish journalist Ryszard Kapuscinski. My neighbor problems seemed trivial in comparison. At 2:00, we were SMS'ed that the people would arrive at 2:30. Yea, sure! I called my friend Laszlo to ask if he were free to phone interpret. I did not want our neighbor to translate for us; my trust level has diminished. When the building man showed up with who I assumed was the plumber, they were like water diviners. With the immediacy of two bloodhounds on a hot trail, they went to the small bathroom, looked for two minutes and said the problem was a broken pipe in the wall. On the wall is a red cap, which apparently turns the water on and off. When the neighbor asked if the plumber could work on it then and there, I said sure. Little did I know. There was an old Bob Newhart Show who had three characters. The one always introduced himself by saying "Hi, my name is Darryl, this is my brother Darryl and my other brother Darryl." They were a cross between rednecks and hillbillies. This was my first impression of the plumber. His hair was short and springing in all directions. He wore a blue coverall that had straps down below his waist allowing the waist of the coverall to hang close to his bellybutton. The legs of the coverall were so flared, they looked like they were cut at the seams. The expression on his face was what one would expect from a baby raised by wild animals who came into contact with humans for the first time. The neighbor said they would have to shut the water off for an hour. He was going to take his over energetic son home and he would return when the plumber did. Two hours later, the neighbor returned with the plumber on his heels. I was asked again if they could work on it now and again I said yes. The next thing to break the silence were bangs, clangs, and other industrious sounding noises filling the closet size bathroom with the plumber. It seemed like quite a cacophony for one little knob. The neighbor asked me down to see his bathrooms, to appreciate the damage. One look gave me a new appreciation for their dilemma. Their small bathroom was ruined from the ceiling down to where the tile started half way down the wall. It was blistering and looked ready to fall in. As horrific as this was, the large bathroom was even worse, looking life the aftermath of a hurricane. Yes, I felt saddened and ashamed that they had to live with this while my attitude was turning self-protective and apathetic. I raced back upstairs, hoping the plumber did not leave for any reason and close the door behind him. Ron was out teaching and I was without my keys. My timing was impeccable. The hallway was flooded. The small bathroom was flooded. The plumber passed me in the doorway as I walked in without a word exchanged since we could not speak the same language even in this emergency. The neighbor had to interpret that as the plumber was breaking through our tiles to get to the pipe, the pipe had its last hoorah and broke completely pouring water up and out. They had to shut off the main water valve in the building. Bear in mind that we have 4 B and B guests in one room and a single in the other. The group of four are college friends of one of the Fulbrighters here, who stayed out really late last night and I was hoping would do so again. Neither bathroom had water. The plumber worked on getting the pipe out until 9:30 pm before disappearing from the apartment below and without turning the water back on. Seven people in our apartment without running water in either bathroom, was not a pleasant thought. Again, I let my mind drift back to the trials of Africans and went to bed in peace, leaving Ron to stay up to tell our British guest.

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St. Patrick's Day

In the U.S, tomorrow everyone has enough Irish in them to drink a green beer or to join is some sort of festivity private or public. It is a great excuse to have a party.

Here things are different. The majority of Irish are the ones who came bought blocks of property and then went home again while collecting the rents. There are enough ex-pat Irish here to have a decent party and there are a few Irish pubs here that are like Irish McDonalds. They have a strange similarity to a franchised Irish opportunity as you can find them in just about every country and they look surprising alike. We have also come across franchise literature for Irisih pubs, so the idea is not my imagination.

When we were living in the States, I would have our house decorated for the occasion and we hosted dinner parties each year with the traditional corned beef, cabbage, and boiled potatoes. Funny, when we were in Ireland, a few of the Irish told us that they thought Americans were funny for serving this dinner. We were told it was not customary in Ireland and it was considered pauper's fare.

We have no decor for the holiday here, no corned beef, and nothing that will set the day off from any other Saturday, but that is tomorrow.

This evening, Lyn and Nicole came over with a friend. We sat around and talked, not moving forward into a card or table game. Again the evening was pleasant and filled with laughter, until Ron's mobile rang.

It was the neighbor from hell calling from his vacation. His brother who is supposedly watching his apartment told him they had 2 cm of water in their bathroom. Can we say "hyperbole"? Ron allowed him to rant and rave and then mentioned that it had rained for the better part of a week, which seemed to slow him down. He insists he is going to get an 'expert' to check out our bathroom. More power to you, Sparky, but we are not paying for anything. We put out 40,ooo Huf already for 'experts' who could find nothing in our apartment to fix.

This leak is dampening my mood one drip at a time.

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Another Fulbrighter Returns

John Jai, a former Fulbrighter was coming to Budapest for a visit with his new finance. They had popped in one day to say hello, but Ron was out. They are staying at a friend's unused apartment. It was good to see him again and to meet the love of his life. We had invited them for dinner this evening. Ron made a wonderful dinner and the conversation was flowing, but then the doorbell rang. Dum-de-dum-dum...It was the wife neighbor downstairs. She came to complain that their roof was leaking yet again, that they would be gone for a week and could we please be careful with the water in the shower. I am so sick of this issue. After having three plumbers check out our bathroom and not finding anything wrong, they told the neighbors, it has to be a pipe from outside. The last plumber found a pipe, cut it and bent it. For a few months, this solved the problem. Coincidentally, this leak started about four days after days of rain. The same thing had happened in the past. We had a bad rain, their ceiling leaked. They cannot seem to get it through their heads that the problem may not be our bathroom, but the building. This aggravation threw me for the rest of the evening, though I tried to not let it bother me, it did dampen my spirits.

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The Plumber: Continuing Saga

Ron has been persistent in calling the building manager arranged for us by our attorney. The manager said the plumber would come after 7:00 pm tonight. We decided not to exercise hanging by out thumbs waiting, but Ron has so much more faith in all areas of life than I do. He was almost willing to hold his breath while waiting. The messages from downstairs keep coming. I, being the faithless one, made the decision that we should watch some television shows we have on disc. After four episodes, it was 11:00 pm and the doorbell rang. Could it be the plumber at such an hour? No, it was the neighbor. He wanted us to come down to see the new bubble that had appeared in his bathroom ceiling. Not really a good time of the evening for home art appreciation, we went anyway. Yup, that is a bubble in the ceiling. Lovely how symmetrical it is. Okay, I can understand his frustration with this situation, but he did have the ceiling ripped out once already and just had it replaced without trying any productive resolutions to the situation. This should be a give and take on both sides, but he does not seem to know how to play the game even after we explained the rules a dozen times. We shared yet again that we cannot make plumbers materialize out of thin air, even if we were in our home environment. Here, we do not seem to know the magic words to make it happen. Dreading nightmares about our whole bathroom being ripped out to find this leak, we went to bed.

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Attorneys and Plumbers

Friday, we had an appointment with our attorney regarding the plumbing problem. Why would someone seek a lawyer for a drip? Simple, the drip downstairs is stressing us out with demanding SMS messages. That is correct. He is too fearful/anxious/angry/pathetic, (circle your choice of adjective) to speak with us in person. His SMS was three messages long and hostile. In a foreign country, you have no idea what credentials one needs for the job they perform. Are the plumbers here licensed for example or can anyone with the knowledge call themselves a plumber?

The second plumber dug out all of the caulking and redid the whole tub. He thought this would solve the problem, but it has not. We contacted our attorney for a couple of reasons: A) We did not know how legal this situation could get. B) He could advise us on a professional who could solve this situation for us. C) We are still unclear on what responsibility is the buildings and what is ours. Who owns which pipes?

After hearing the whole story, he said we did not have a legal issue and doubted if it would turn into one. That was a relief to hear. He has a friend who is a building manager for five different apartment/office buildings and per chance lives across the street from us. He called him to come over and advise us. This gentleman has a professional plumber on contract for the buildings he manages and he has agreed to assess the situation. He explained that under the tubs there is a basin. This basin may have filled with water and is now dripping. He seems to believe that he can determine this by taking out two tiles in the wall. He is coming over on Monday evening. We will have everything put into writing in English and in Hungarian, though the drip downstairs does speak English. I have to question the neighbor who had his ceiling redone knowing the drip was still happening.

We are holding our breath until Monday at 7:00 PM.

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