A Gathering at the Watering Hole(s)…

24 Sept, 2015

Because sometimes the banal is more interesting than the primary content of my life, I thought I would give an update to my last post -from my new pal Ivan Stepanovich (John is the American version of Ivan…but I’m trying to use as many ‘proper’ names as possible).

Tuesday evening he left and things seemed fine. Wednesday I braved another bath and things were not fine. Each leak had returned and brought a new friend, doubling their level of squirting enthusiasm. Although it was not yet 8am, I woke up my Peace Corps manager Natasha, who was still in town and explained the situation and told her that I was on my way to school to find Ivan Stepanovich and drag him back to my home for help. I took photos to give him a heads up, but had no way of getting them to him other than to show him my phone. By the time I got to the school, Natasha had already spoken with the Director, Iryna and stressed the need for urgency, while also displaying her frustration at this ongoing problem. Both of these women are very strong willed and demand authority and in my current position here, I had to meekly sit on the sidelines and let them duke it out. Meek is not a position that suits me, but even I know when to let the big dogs fight on their own. Words were exchanged in rapid-fire staccato and loudly – in all directions. Without understanding more than a word here or there, I knew that I was going to be the center of attention for every one and anyone who could help to solve this problem. And just to be very clear that things were going to be monitored closely by the Peace Corps, Natasha has refused to let them work in my apartment unless I am present. I had meetings already scheduled for the day so poor Ivan Stepanovich had to cool his jets at school until later afternoon…and stay until the job was done. Pipes were replaced, a new faucet was installed, water was mopped up repeatedly… In the end, he declared it a success. The little bathroom countertop doesn’t fit the new pipe configuration and will have to be dealt with later when there is access to a circular saw, but aesthetics aside, all seemed to be well. I took a cautious shower this morning and had no trouble.

Note to self: don’t attempt to do a happy dance standing in 6 inches of water when you know you’re having a very clumsy day.

I was all smiles and ‘thank you-s’ this morning when I appeared at work and learned that at last I was going to get my washing machine installed today. Yay! Washing jeans in a tiny bucket is not a pleasant task. So I did a few quick things at work while they loaded the washer into a van and then joined three mechanically-minded men for a run over to my apartment. And that would have been the easy part except that they are repairing the tiny road to my apartment complex this week and everything is torn up (and blocked off). There was no other viable way into the complex. So… after briefly discussing (and then rejecting) the possibility of driving on the lawn, they parked at the next housing complex and decided to hoof it.

I assumed they would have a little dolly to move the heavy machine with, but it seems here they have their own methods. The wrapped a rug around the bottom of the washer, and each grasping a section of the rug, lifted the mighty beast out of the van and down the broken path all the way to my apartment complex. Then they had to haul it up to the third floor (which thankfully fit inside the tiny elevator) so only one flight of stairs had to be managed. The men couldn’t fit with the machine, so they had to send it on its own, race up the stairs and then haul it out before the doors closed again. There was nothing I could do to help so I just stood nearby, laughing until tears ran down my face, snapping photos the entire time. They were mildly amused by this.

Four hours later, we are all sitting in my apartment, waiting for caulk to dry. Three and a half hours ago, when they installed the washing machine for some reason it wasn’t working as it should. The machine is an older one, and they needed to alter the settings a bit, but didn’t have a manual. Ivan Stepanovich thought Google could come to our rescue. Of course the machine is German and the website is, too… and between the lot of us we couldn’t understand the language enough to make sense of it. The closest translations to Ukrainian were Russian and Hungarian – but neither were great on the site. It took some work, but we finally got the serial number of the machine to match up with the product search engine on the company’s website…. Only to discover that the machine was so old that they didn’t make the manual available online anymore. Disappointed but resilient, these band of brothers dug in and kept trying things until they got the machine to work.

Which they did.

And then the pipes backed up, causing a mini geyser to erupt in my bathtub.

One of them laughed and (I’m fairly certain) said “Look, you have a bidet!”

(I feel like I might be dreaming, and I’ve landed in someone’s sitcom)

In the ensuing hours, the men have taken turns running back to the school and the hardware stall of the open market for parts, while at least one has stood sentry to ensure there is not another flood. Ivan Stepanovich explained that they would have to snake the drain behind the tub which appeared clogged. And when they did that the old pipes disengaged from each other, leaving a sizeable gap behind my tub for more water to fall.

I stopped looking at that point. There was plunging and mopping and cursing and laughter, but I don’t want to know the details…. And I definitely don’t want to know what they pulled out of the pipe that made them all explaime “Oyyyyy!” I do know that they have cleaned and re-attached and caulked and prayed with all the force they can muster. Once the calk dries they will check it all again.

I’m not holding my breath.

But if I have to, I’m turning that bidet into a clothes-washing opportunity.