http://encarta.msn.com/dictionary_/Inshallah.html
You need no fluency whatsoever in Arabic to discern that expression, embedded frequently in the spoken word through the Middle East. My apartment is an ongoing drama of the insh'allah factor in these parts.
First, the water in the kitchen ran a bit orange once the tap had been engaged for several minutes - most noticeable when doing dishes. The engineer didn't do much about it when I went to the trouble of demonstrating the issue and then I sent the Sales Manager to look at it, who didn't run the water long enough to see it turn orange and concluded that I was mad. Then I dragged him up again, one week later, avoiding all contact with that water source in the interim as if it was public safety protocol, and convinced him that the heating mechanism in the water heater serving the kitchen was corroded and therefore giving off that color. I then got a new one.
Fast forward a few weeks to the cold water resolution in the master bathroom (see previous post), which then turned into a steady drip on the toilet seat. Once the drip was fixed, the water started running faintly orange in the tub; the water color being ironic because the furnished apartment includes two ultrasuede couches in the most insipid shade of coral on the color wheel.
The place is owned by two Muslim brothers - one a devout follower that refuses to strike the liquor license and serve alcohol in the restaurant as he considers that revenue dirty money. I say he give it up and take the buckets of income such a provision would net and clean the bloody windows. And this, reminder to all, is considered a luxury hotel residence adjacent to the water with views to the skyline, which would be stellar, if they would wash the windows.
It's Thanksgiving in 2+ days and I am surely one of many Americans that have been putting off obtaining a liquor permit until a crisis moment; my crisis being two-fold with the travails of the apartment and the bottle of Pinot Noir I need to make my world famous cranberry sauce for Thursday. I expect an hour-long line out the door in addressing this urgent matter of personal administration and haven't yet checked to see if they sell cranberries in the Middle East. Insh'allah.
Monday, November 23, 2009
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
driving unhallowed machines and vehicles on the road
Yep. That's the language on my first moving violation. Didn't get a ticket or receive anything in the mail for getting caught talking on my mobile phone without an earpiece while driving . The citation is tied to my license plate on the Ministry of the Interior web site, where one can look up the menace-to-society infractions racking up against one's Resident Permit. An orderly system indeed.
Behold my washer/dryer newly installed in the kitchen. Yes, installed. The building engineer knocked at 6:30 in the morning this week and brought in a new model and when I asked why he hadn't pushed the machine under the countertop, he claimed that he's not allowed to cut out the particle board disguised as wood, feigning to be a baseboard. Instead of having a meltdown, I tipped him and thanked him profusely and walked straight into the facilities management manager's office at work and persuaded him to come to my apt with another guy this weekend. Tomorrow, I will bring them the canvas tote bag that will conceal the electric saw that will do away with the obstruction preventing the washer/dryer from being pushed under the counter. There's a PVC pipe to trim, too; feels a little Sopranos-like.
I was moved to corporate housing around about 6 weeks after my arrival. The building is a hotel with a tower for hotel guests and apartments for residents. None of the apartments have an oven as the owner is either a moron or the intended market was for business residents eating out every night, or hopefully defaulting to the restaurant on the premises. The a/c does not regulate for the three bedrooms despite there being temperature instruments with LED screens; they are always "on." I went to London for business last week with a cold and came back with a lingering cough that was not going to heal soon with a/c blowing directly on me all night.
There are two bathrooms in this fine flat - one in the master and one in the hallway. The master shower had very poor water pressure and the temperature was tepid, at best. Upon returning from London and once again facing tepid showers with anemic water pressure and non-stop air conditioning, I called for the engineer to come up and find a way to turn off the air. He flicked a switch on the electrical panel and then I directed him to the bathroom since the air was such a quick fix.
He pulled away one of the dropped ceiling panels and we discovered that the water heater was missing. I took a picture of the water pipes meant to be connecting to the water heater and emailed them to the sales manager, referring to a recent TIME OUT advert where the building positions itself as a "taste of luxury." A cold shower is hardly luxurious, I wrote. This flat costs almost double my former Williamsburg loft with views to Wall Street in Brooklyn so I am outraged by the perception of "quality" in this place. In about 12 hours the water heater was installed. Now I am dealing with a slow leak...from the new water heater. It never ends.
And then there's Thanksgiving next week ...I am invited to the big boss' house for a dose of Americana that evening and I am supposed to bring my world famous cranberry sauce, which calls for a bottle of Pinot Noir. I don't yet have my liquor permit so I will have to take a day off to get it because I can't show up without my sauce and I can't make it without the booze and I need a permit to buy said booze....not to mention the dry white I should tote along for the unfortunate bird, processed somewhere in Australia or Eastern Europe and put on a plane for the ex-pats to enjoy in the Arabian Gulf with little regard to the obscene carbon footprint facilitating the commemoration of the violent displacement of the Native American.
I am starting to feel like nothing surprises me anymore - it hasn't even been 90 days. I would kill for a bottle of Goo-Gone, in case Santa needs some inspiration.
Behold my washer/dryer newly installed in the kitchen. Yes, installed. The building engineer knocked at 6:30 in the morning this week and brought in a new model and when I asked why he hadn't pushed the machine under the countertop, he claimed that he's not allowed to cut out the particle board disguised as wood, feigning to be a baseboard. Instead of having a meltdown, I tipped him and thanked him profusely and walked straight into the facilities management manager's office at work and persuaded him to come to my apt with another guy this weekend. Tomorrow, I will bring them the canvas tote bag that will conceal the electric saw that will do away with the obstruction preventing the washer/dryer from being pushed under the counter. There's a PVC pipe to trim, too; feels a little Sopranos-like.
I was moved to corporate housing around about 6 weeks after my arrival. The building is a hotel with a tower for hotel guests and apartments for residents. None of the apartments have an oven as the owner is either a moron or the intended market was for business residents eating out every night, or hopefully defaulting to the restaurant on the premises. The a/c does not regulate for the three bedrooms despite there being temperature instruments with LED screens; they are always "on." I went to London for business last week with a cold and came back with a lingering cough that was not going to heal soon with a/c blowing directly on me all night.
There are two bathrooms in this fine flat - one in the master and one in the hallway. The master shower had very poor water pressure and the temperature was tepid, at best. Upon returning from London and once again facing tepid showers with anemic water pressure and non-stop air conditioning, I called for the engineer to come up and find a way to turn off the air. He flicked a switch on the electrical panel and then I directed him to the bathroom since the air was such a quick fix.
He pulled away one of the dropped ceiling panels and we discovered that the water heater was missing. I took a picture of the water pipes meant to be connecting to the water heater and emailed them to the sales manager, referring to a recent TIME OUT advert where the building positions itself as a "taste of luxury." A cold shower is hardly luxurious, I wrote. This flat costs almost double my former Williamsburg loft with views to Wall Street in Brooklyn so I am outraged by the perception of "quality" in this place. In about 12 hours the water heater was installed. Now I am dealing with a slow leak...from the new water heater. It never ends.
And then there's Thanksgiving next week ...I am invited to the big boss' house for a dose of Americana that evening and I am supposed to bring my world famous cranberry sauce, which calls for a bottle of Pinot Noir. I don't yet have my liquor permit so I will have to take a day off to get it because I can't show up without my sauce and I can't make it without the booze and I need a permit to buy said booze....not to mention the dry white I should tote along for the unfortunate bird, processed somewhere in Australia or Eastern Europe and put on a plane for the ex-pats to enjoy in the Arabian Gulf with little regard to the obscene carbon footprint facilitating the commemoration of the violent displacement of the Native American.
I am starting to feel like nothing surprises me anymore - it hasn't even been 90 days. I would kill for a bottle of Goo-Gone, in case Santa needs some inspiration.
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