Newsletter 5 - Getting Settled In - June 16, 2005

Jul 28, 2005 11:12 AM
Newsletter 5 - Getting Settled In

Hi Everyone -

I can access this email account today so I'm sending the next Newsletter. The summer is hot-hot-hot but I'm told July is the hottest month and after this the temperature will start to cool off and once September is here, it will be cool and lovely.

The heat is punishing but there are two redeeming features about it (1) the humidity is low and (2) it isn't cold! I'd rather be hot than cold any day. And all the wonderful light here is delightful. Even on "overcast days" it is nice and bright outside. Even during the sand storm (more about that later) it was light outside. We've been having highs in the 110s (112, 113 etc) but I believe the sun's rays are more direct here than in South Carolina.

Enjoy the newsletter!
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June 16

Time passes fast and slow here. The past week has been packed with activity. It’s now Thursday evening June 16. I’m sitting in my partially furnished apartment (flat), barely furnished is more accurate, waiting for a load of laundry to finish.

Before I moved into the flat, I noticed several minor things that needed attention and after I moved in, some more. I made a list and showed it to Mary Kay and Abdulla, the Dean’s secretary (one of two), who called Housing and explained the situation. He even wrote Arabic translations on some things on the list.

Then the library’s driver, Ali, took me and Naeema to the University Housing Office. Just as we arrived, a delegation of men (4 or 5) descended upon Mohammed Said, Director of Housing, whom we’d come to see. The men seated themselves in MS’s office. Naeema and I presented ourselves in the doorway and he indicated that we should wait in the next room, another office. We were soon joined by two other women, possibly a mother and college-aged daughter. I was the only one in western dress, the others wore black from head to foot with sandals on their feet; I had on my Rockport Prowalkers.

We waited while MS talked on the telephone at length with the men still seated in his office. Once Naeema went to the doorway of his office but was waved back. Finally, after I felt enough waiting had taken place, I went to his doorway and stood there, attempting to appear imperious or at least important enough for his attention. He looked up at me, finished his call and, I felt, with a guilty look on his face, stood up. He left the men sitting in his room and came into the office where we were. He looked over the list and told me everything on it must be done. He called to the maintenance overseer in his office across the hall, told him that everything on the list must be done, to get ahold of the flat manager and have him meet us at the flat. The call was made, the overseer read my list and we were off, with Ali driving.

When we got to the flat, we were met by the manager, a very short Arab man who knows some English but translation was required. Thank goodness for Naeema! We went through the flat with me referring to my list and pointing out everything. The manager agreed that everything would be done and said his crew would come at 8:30 AM on Thursday – could I be there to let them in?

I said, “I must work, I don’t know if I can get off.” Everyone just looked at me. I reviewed in my mind what I’d said, analyzed it and realized that Thursday would be on the weekend! I laughed and explained; everyone laughed and I agreed that Thursday at 8:30 AM would be fine. A major concern was that the washer drain didn’t work – water leaving the washer shot back out of the drain pipe in the wall onto the floor of the kitchen. Fortunately there was an Arabic-style covered drain nearby in the tile floor and I was able to sweep, mop and squeegee the water into it.

We all parted on a friendly note, the manager assuring me and the university overseer that all would be done, we thanking him. I was skeptical (a) that they’d come, (b) that they would be on time if they came, (c) that things would be done, and (d) that anything done would be done well.

This morning, Thursday, I’d just finished eating my breakfast at 8:00 when the doorbell rang and there were about five workmen, equipped and rarin’ to go. Only one spoke much English, so I took them on the tour, showing everything that needed to be done, which included a few things I’d found in the meantime.

The men were, I think, Pakistani and wore paint, spackle, plaster and grout-splattered clothing and shoes; the latter they left outside the door, which is typical here. The one who spoke some English was young and good looking, like the young Omar Sharif, including mustache. They all set to work and did everything on my list, with two minor exceptions, and much, much more! They spackled, grouted, painted, plastered, patched cracks in the ceiling I hadn’t even noticed, redid all the trim above the marble splashboards, painted ceilings in most of the rooms. They re-grouted everything in every bathroom even though I’d only asked for tubs to be redone. The electrician (“Omar S”) even put in extra electrical outlets for me.

The manager showed up at one point early on and said they’d do anything I wanted, anything, just ask. So I did ask for 1 or 2 extra things, but they did much more than I even asked.

One man repaired the damaged corner of one large wooden door to the majlis (MAJ-liss, the living room), painstakingly using a chisel and mallet to shape three pieces of wood to the exact dimensions required. The result looks exactly as if it were part of the original door. The electrician (“Omar”) was meticulous and thorough. The men doing the “white” stuff – paint, spackle, grout, plaster were painstaking and thorough. They worked straight through with only a short lunch break, including two others who came a little later than the others. “Omar” took an hour lunch break but stayed behind when the others left about 4:00-4:15 and helped me finish sweeping up the debris. (Definitely a different work ethic than in South Carolina!)

The one who’d fixed the door left about 3:00 to go buy a new lock for the hall door, which was missing its key. He returned about 5:00 saying that type lock was no longer made but he’d located the missing key for the original lock, which he put back into the door. The doors to all rooms here lock with a key except the bathrooms which have locking door knobs as in the US.

The most interesting event of the day concerned the washer drain. When the manager arrived, the plumber came, too. He was a very tall man, my age or older – older than the young men who made up most of the crew. He wore a white skull cap, a long white baggy shirt – longer in front and back than on the sides, and baggy white pants.

I tried to explain that I thought the drain was blocked. He had no English and “Omar” tried to explain – if he even understood – but the plumber gave my theory no credence. (She’s a woman; what does she know?) Instead of checking the drain, he proceeded to tape the washer’s drain hose into the drain pipe in the wall (to prevent the water backing out of the pipe).

Not having completely figured out how the washer worked, I started a load to see what would happen. It was a very long cycle and he gave up and left before it got to the end of the wash cycle. When it did, I noticed water dripping out between rows of tape holding the drain hose in the pipe. I immediately stopped the washer and showed “Omar” so he could be a witness and convey the message to the manager, the plumber or both.

When the plumber returned after a couple of hours, the washer cycle had to be restarted. When it got to the time for water to drain out, nothing happened (at least nothing obvious). The washer just churned away. I turned it off, fearing damage and the plumber left, saying reason it wasn’t draining was that the washer was faulty because there could be nothing wrong with the drain.

As the day wore on and the crew worked, I thought about the washer situation and decided that the washer hadn’t stopped like that when I had used it before, the water had drained out and then came backing out of the pipe onto the floor. I decided the water was now completely backed up in the drain pipe and the water trying to exit the water had nowhere to go.

I decided to pause the washer, remove (untape) the hose from the pipe and insert it directly into the floor drain, which has a cap that can be opened easily. I started unwinding the tape and “Omar” saw me doing it so he finished the job. Then I put the hose into the floor drain. Using the “drain” setting which I had just realized was on the washer dial, I started the washer again. This time the water came right out the hose and went down the floor drain. I showed “Omar” and told him nothing was wrong with the washer; the problem was with the drain pipe. I asked him to tell the manager.

After “Omar” left, the handyman returned with the key and then – ta da – the plumber showed up. I showed him how the washer was draining just fine. He had brought some rather primitive versions of the plumber’s “snake” used in the US (I’ve used one myself) and started poking and prodding the drain pipe – at last! I left the room at one point and when I returned he showed me what had been stuck in the drain pipe. A small white ball! It was either a golf ball or a ping pong ball (maybe a pop gun ball). We laughed and my suspicions were confirmed. I knew some children had lived in the flat before me and thought one of them had probably put something into that tempting open drain pipe.

The plumber cleaned up the floor (this is definitely not South Carolina!), retaped the drain hose into the drain pipe, scooted the washer back into place and then he and the handyman – who’d been looking on all the while – left. It was 6:00 PM and my feet were killing me. I’d been standing most of the day checking on all the work, continuously, and marking off items on my repair list. I ran a load of laundry to be sure the drain wouldn’t back up and the washer would drain properly. It did!

Then I went shopping for groceries. I walked the distance to Mega Mart, probably a block or so but passing three streets. It was dusk and there was a brisk breeze although it was pretty hot still.

I got brave and bought my first raw meat, beef. The butcher cut a piece in half for me, then at my request, sliced it into several thin pieces, packaged and priced it. I also bought a carton of fruit juice (blueberry, raspberry and grape) packaged in the UK, a carton of soy milk from South Africa, one dozen eggs from Dubai UAE, mozzarella cheese from Denmark, flat round bread from here in Al Ain, a crunchy snack combo from India, frozen shrimp from Sharjah UAE, mayo from New Orleans LA, and mustard from Great Britain as well as fresh dill and tomatoes – probably produced somewhere in the Emirates. Then I caught a taxi home (about a two minute ride that cost 2.5 dirhams, 2 being the minimum price for a ride.) That’s about 68 cents.

Back in the flat, I put away the food, called a taxi driver recommended by Bonnie, an UGRU English teacher and church member, and arranged for him to drive me to church tomorrow. He knows the way from having taken Bonnie before she got her car, and I don’t know it well enough to direct any other driver. It will cost a little more than a regular taxi ride but he’ll pick me up at my building door at 10:10 AM and get me to church on time. He also speaks English well. Then I used my new mini-cooker, plugged into one of the new outlets “Omar” had volunteered to put in along the long kitchen counter and broiled all my beef slices and started washing a load of whites (at last, clean underwear!). I've been washing them by hand because I couldn’t use the washer when it had drain problems.

I ended up doing three loads in all and then had to hang everything on hangers to dry. I opened several of my kitchen cabined doors – the ones above the counter – and have all the hangars hanging from the curved bottom edges of the doors – a total of 29 hangers and 33 items (tripled up small things on two hangers). Placed around the kitchen are three dish towels draped over one U-shaped chair back/arms, 1 apron, 1 bath mat, 1 washcloth and 4 socks. It’s been about an hour since I hung up the whites and the nylon ones are nearly dry. It’s 10 to 11 and I’m read to turn in.