Swell says: Best Post Yet!

Thanks for all the well wishes Re: our Ikea installation.

I wish, oh, how I wish I could say that your well wishes made everything go smoothly. I wish I could sit here and write that the Ikea installers came, quickly set up the cabinets and counter, installed the sink turned on the water and we were good to go. I wish I could.

But I can’t.

The Ikea installers did come. They arrived at the house at 6:30 pm after a full day of jobs and left at 8:30 pm with one job remaining. Those guys work hard. I find it amazing that many of the jobs people pay them to do are simple bookshelves, entertainment units. Those things are easy to put together. Anyone with half a brain… oh, that explains it. Never mind.

Two guys came to put everything together. They were wonderful. They worked hard and fast. They were respectful. They questioned if they wanted us to clarify a where or what.

Our nightmare came true when they said that they weren’t allowed to actually hook the sink up. I figured as much when we were purchasing it. They cut the hole for the sink so I figured we could fake our way through the installation of the drain and the faucet.

We couldn’t.

I sit here writing this as a “plumber” is finalizing the installation of the sink. Swell is debating with them whether we should go back and re-purchase the part that I broke (I THOUGHT it said to do it in the instructions!) or if they should just pull a Romanian and patch it together with hay, tape, horse dung, and years of acceptance of half-assed work. Swell is strongly encouraging replacing the part. The “plumber” and her dad couldn’t care less. If it works even halfway its fine by their Romanian standards.

What will probably happen is that the “plumber” will finish and then Swell and I will go get the part and replace it. He’s already done what we needed him to do. What we needed him to do was not due to my error(s) rather it is because this house was built by half-drunk grade school children who couldn’t put a pipe into the wall straight. Because the pipe that is to drain the sink is almost parallel to the wall I couldn’t get the dang pipe from the sink to go into the pipe in the wall. The end that Ikea included was to big to reach the drain pipe at the gross angle and go around the hot water/gas pipes that are beautifully running along the kitchen wall.

He did what I thought needed to be done and brought a little extension. The extension goes into the angled pipe in the wall but extends beyond the other pipes beautifully running along the wall. Easy enough but I thought it better to consult a “professional”.

Why do I keep referring to this guy with words in quotes? Because I have no idea what his qualifications are.
We found him through an ad in the local paper. You may recall that I mentioned at one point that we were looking for a part to fix the oven with. We were never able to find said part and I didn’t really want to mess around with a gas oven anyway so we scoured the newspaper for someone who fixed ovens. He came and fixed said oven and mentioned upon seeing the disgusting sink/counter that we had that he could fix that as well. He also laughed and said he could lower the hood for the stove.

We called him again this morning to come and do this work. He is now lowering the hood.

Well, I didn’t call. Neither did Swell. Swell’s mum called him. At 6:30 this morning, much to Swell’s alarm.

I don’t get a good feeling from this guy. He wanted to park at Cora and have us go and drive to get him to bring him to the house – he’s too good to drive through the potholes and dogs. We said no and he ended up driving here.

One of the first things he said upon arrival is that he got a speeding ticket on the way here. As if he expects to be reimbursed or paid a little extra for that. Whose fault is that exactly? We don’t care if you take an extra 15 minutes to get here. I truly don’t care if you got a speeding ticket. That’s not what you tell your customers as far as I’m concerned. (He was later dropped off at the metro station so either he lied about driving completely or his car was impounded?)

Swell’s mum loves him, however, so I’ll keep my opinion to myself. Not that we know anyone else that can fix these things if I did say something.

Well that’s a little Ikea update. I’ll post before and after pictures later today.

Now onto the bigger news.

Well it’s not really news it is a dilemma.

Well it’s not so much a dilemma as it is a quandary.

Before we left Nablus we were asked how much money it would take to have us return. I said double. They said, “No” before my “double” finished passing my lips.

We were then asked in private by the dean what our absolute minimum was.

I’m stupid.

I’ll admit it. I’m the first to admit it.

I am a bad negotiator.

I’m not a practical person.

I could live in a hovel and be happy.

I hate money and would rather be paid in Jelly Bellies and Dr. Pepper.

I was feeling very guilty when asked this by the dean.

So I said we need what we were paid this year + X as a minimum.

Our mortgage payment just increased by almost double.

We were stupid. I’ll admit it.

I’m a bad financial planner.

We always think we’re going to do something in the future but our plans always change. When we bought our place it was our plan to only live there for two years. At the most. So we…

I already said I know I’m stupid.

…so we’ve been paying interest only. Our two year interest only arrangement is up. Now we’re paying principal and interest. Big jump in payments at the same time as a big pay cut is not the best of things.

I know I’m stupid.

But I didn’t think of this change in payments at the time I told them we needed this year + X as a minimum.

All of these things have now ganged up and are beating us senseless.

The guilt led us to consider returning. The guilt also put me in a bad negotiating position. I said what I said. And a few days ago emailed the school and said that they had a week to offer us something or we would begin looking for new jobs.

They of course offered my this year + X minimum. Had they offered this before we left we would have taken it instantly. As we get further and further away from our time there it becomes more difficult to talk ourselves back into thinking it is in anyway a good idea.

We are torn for many reasons. If we go back we would absolutely need to be paid starting July 1. There is no way that we can survive without being paid this summer. There is also no way we could get temporary jobs that would let us work 6 weeks and pay enough to survive.

They have not yet told us if they would actually be willing to pay us to work this summer. We could not be there this summer even if they are paying us for two very important reasons. I’m not really supposed to be out of the USA for long periods of continuous time due to my residency status. Secondly we will not miss our family trip scheduled for mid August. If paid this summer we would actually be working. Preparing lectures, etc. If they don’t pay us to do these things this summer it would be impossible to keep up with the workload once in Nablus.

So if we go our schedule would be to arrive home in Atlanta on July 5th. Do our taxes, meet with people about refinancing our debt, at least Swell would have to fly to Portland to get some notes/books that are in storage at her parents and, of course prepare lectures. Swell was instantly against the idea of going. After a few hours she screamed out in great joy and began to cry. Between sobs she could be heard saying, “If we get paid for July and August we could do our work at Panera, beside the pool, at Little Azzios, in our home, it would be such a great summer! OH! If we go back we can for sure have Christmas off. WAIT we would have 6 WEEKS OFF at Christmas!” And she then wanted to go. Now? Back and forth.

If we were to go, after our summer of fun, we would be there for about 4 months. Home for the 6 week Christmas break and then back for about 4 months. In May, after the final final exam was given we would leave and never look back. In our minds we would have accomplished enough to prepare people to take over what we were doing. All they would be missing is experience. I have always said that my job, as a public health worker, should be to make myself unnecessary. We would become unnecessary with joy.

The opportunity continues to be good for my resume and is fun to me. Besides all the cool kids are working for no money under difficult circumstances with no prestige or chance for advancement.

If we don’t go we could make money. Hand over fist money. So much money we could burn money as fuel. Rather than burn money, though, I would stash my money away to fix my long neglected bus.

Rebuild the engine.

Reupholster the seats.

Fix the rusted spots.

Paint it red and white like my first moose-destroyed one.

I would drive that thing everyday for the rest of my life. The smell. The purr of the tiny little engine. The unbearable summer heat. Going up hills in first, worrying that it might not make it. Swell by my side. Grow my gnarly beard out again (you should have seen me last week) and be the hippie that I’ve always been on the inside.

So that’s my reason for not going. If I don’t go I can fix my bus sooner than if we do go.

Swell’s reasons are stupid.

Safety.

Starting a family.

Having to be cooped up for four months.

The civil war brewing in Palesine.

Having to get by Israeli security.

Being away from family.

Delaying the inevitable “need to start our lives someday”.

You know silly, petty things.

So we’ll send an email asking exactly what they expect of us and whether or not they will pay us for July and all of August. Furthermore, we’ll have to inform them that prior commitments will make it so that we can’t start teaching until the second week of classes. We’ll see.

Advice?

As you know this is being written on Word prior to being uploaded so I often write some and then leave. A lot happened during the writing of this blog.

Swell convinced her Dad and the “plumber” that it would be best if we went to get the part I broke (I said I thought I was following the directions!). Swell’s Dad also decided that it is time to buy a new shower. He goes a tad crazy in Romania. My armchair psychology is that he likes to impress people by how well he has done by providing for them. Fine by me. So we (Swell, the sick one, Swell’s Dad, the “plumber” and I) jumped in the car and drove to Cora. We quickly went into the hardware store portion of the Cora mall and looked at showers. No normal showers to be found. They all came with chairs and massage jets and radios and women that wash you and rain nozzles and remote controls. (One of those things is not true… you guess which one.)

They were more expensive than the “plumber” was expecting (but really not that much… I think… I’ve never bought a shower before) so Swell’s Dad and the “plumber” hopped back in the car and headed to other stores to scope out showers.

Swell, the sick one and I looked for a taxi to take us to Ikea. We asked five or six drivers who were sitting around reading papers, talking on phones, smoking waiting in the parking lot. All of them of course began to fight for this rather large fare. They debated who should get to take these people and earn their money and respect. Who would be the one lucky enough to have a big fare rather than the piddley little fares the others would be left with.

Ha! I tricked you. Remember we’re in Bucharest, Romania. Every single driver refused our fare. They chose to continue to sit and do nothing rather than earn an easy 30 lei fare. We were shocked over our lack of shock. To be expected.

We pondered our next step. I suggested we head out of the parking lot to the road and try to flag a taxi down. That is what we did. He reluctantly agreed to drive us and drive us he did.

We did the Ikea thing.

1) Eat
2) Show the sick one all the model rooms
3) Eat
4) Buy extra things we didn’t come for (thanks to Swell stealing money from her parents!)
5) Wait in line for the part I broke (I said I thought I was following the directions exactly right!)
6) Call 7 Taxi companies and stop 1 real taxi driver and have them all refuse to come and get us. Do I smell? Yes, but that’s because I couldn’t’ have a shower yet tonight. I didn’t smell then.

Swell was furious. I heard Swell say her Mum would help us find the bus as she was on the phone with her Mum. Swell wouldn’t follow me as I walked toward where I thought the bus stop was. Swell said her parents were going to come get us. I said, “That’s stupid. By the time they get here and drive us back we could have taken the two hour bus ride. You SAID your Mum would help us get to the bus so let’s do that.” She said, “I never said such a thing. I said I THINK my Mum can help us get to the bus.”

The word think (which was NOT said) led to a tiny disagreement between Swell and I. Both of us were very upset by the turn of events with the lack of taxis to take us home so it was a silly disagreement but a disagreement none the less.

You might have noticed that I’ve been in a piss-poor mood the past few weeks. A lot of it has to do with just not getting the “vacation” we had hoped for. We had hoped to just go and do things during the day with whoever wanted to and then hang out at home during the night. With the two homes thing that has become more difficult as not everyone is here at all times and in fact there is often times when no one is here. Other reasons I won’t go into but suffice it to say that Dr. Phil (you know the obese everyone-needs-to-go-on-a-diet-but-me quack on TV that got his start from the arrogant, new-agey, I’m richer than you but I offer nothing to the world but mindless entertainment for stay-at-home Mums woman) could do a years worth of stories on the 7 people here (myself included) and still have enough left over for a prime-time special. So getting into these crappy situations which are funny 3 hours later is getting old.

Anyway Swell’s folks were on their way to get us and we crossed over the Ikea parking lot to a “mall” a lot like Cora but called Carrefour. We wandered and waited and sat and watched half-naked people all the while stewing about the taxi situation and the fact that Swell’s parents had to drive across Bucharest in rush hour traffic to come and get us.

Eventually they arrived.

On our way home we saw the Arc de Triumph (no we didn’t take a wrong turn in Germany. Romania has one too.) and learned that the “plumber” not only lowered the hood to the stove but he flipped the upside down cabinet and hung them not with regular screws but with the included brackets. We also learned that Swell’s Dad was able to buy a shower. It was on sale. It was not a normal shower but does indeed come with the chair and the massage jets. No rain faucet, no women to wash you, no radio and no remote control but the other two things are good enough, I suppose. As Swell’s Dad reviewed the good deal he got with me, Swell flipped over her Brico store flyer (the very first store we went to before splitting up with the “plumber” and Swell’s Dad) to find a similar shower but with the rain faucet, the radio and the women at a lower price. Don’t tell him that though. He won’t want to hear it.

Tomorrow the shower arrives as well as the plumber. In the meantime the current bathtub sits precariously on a mound of concrete that probably should have given way a year ago. Thus, I stink. I’ll have a nice shower with a massage tomorrow, thank you very much. (Except I have the feeling that the water pressure in this house won’t support much of a massage. Oh well.)

It took about 3 hours to drive home. It shouldn’t have. We took some wrong turns, which would have been ok but the wrong turns were turns into parking lot traffic. Stand still traffic + five people in a Dacia Logan + 35 degree weather = a sweaty mess. A long drive sure but it was fun. We saw parts of Bucharest we’ll never see again. We talked, we laughed, we enjoyed the time. As we rounded the corner on the pothole filled street that leads to home I could call the day good. Not great but good. It wasn’t terrible, it wasn’t great it was just good.

As this thought crossed my mind a smile came to my face. Just then the car lights fell on a dog. In the middle of the road. He paused looked me square in the eyes, crapped in the road and ran off moments before the car reached him.

I turned to Swell, Swell turned to me as the others in the car screamed, “EWWWW!” we simply said in unison, “I $%$#$% hate it here.”