El Andalous - Clear Out

Cupboard - Half Way There; 3 In Order, 1 Cleared, 2 Messy

So, 2017 started off with a manic attempt by me to get organized. As well as reorganizing my kitchen and bathroom a bit, I thought I may as well throw out some items and reallocate places for storing things.

This was also more difficult than I’d anticipated.

I had one shelf in my bedroom that was full of broken electronics (a non-functioning iron, a coffee maker without a jug, a broken laptop, a broken camera). I’d avoided throwing them away because it seemed so wasteful in a country where many people can’t even afford to eat. Besides, I liked the coffee maker but couldn’t find a replacement jug to fit. Somehow, I thought if I just hung onto it, a replacement jug would suddenly magically appear. In the mean time, I’d bought another coffee machine (but not so nice).

As for the iron, I suspected it just needed a fuse, but it had one of those sealed plugs where you can’t really get inside it. I’d bought a new iron, but was reluctant to throw my other one away when I was convinced that it could be so easily brought back into working order.

The camera was still working, it was just that the pictures it took were all out of focus. I know that’s useless, but I’d been fond of the camera when it worked, and just maybe it would spontaneously correct itself.

Anyway, I got all this stuff out and as I looked at it, I could feel my old reluctance to throw them away resurfacing. You can see why I was really into Parapsychology at one point.

I distracted myself by turning to my very dusty shelf below my television where I had all sorts of things that I didn’t really know what to do with. There was an old double cassette recorder / radio player, a bunch of cassettes, a bunch of DVDs, some magazines, and a pile of electronic connectors that I may or may not need.

With a reluctant sigh, I came to the conclusion that I needed to throw all of these out, apart from the connectors (although I’m a bit puzzled at how I ended up with 6 sets of earphones and 4 mini-USB connectors). And then I had the bright idea that I could ask Joke if she wanted to sell the items for charity. At least this way, some good could come out of it. And maybe she could also take my broken electronics (Egyptians are very good at mending things and reusing them until they absolutely cannot be mended any more). I emailed her and she said yes!

This inspired me to check whether I had any clothes that I needed to throw out. I went and retrieved an old favorite dress and favorite cardigan that had both been ruined by some sealant spilling on them. They were my favorite items and I didn’t really want to face up to the fact that I couldn’t wear them any longer.

I got distracted yet again, now in attempting to find on the internet a way to remove the sealant. Full of optimism, I spent quite some time employing a variety of tried-and-tested cleaning methods, all of which failed. I’d been through all this rigmarole before, when I first realized what had happened to my clothes, but somehow I always think that if I try again, it might suddenly work second time round. For someone that studied logic at university, I’m not all that rational.

While I was doing this, I remembered that I'd meant to try cleaning my sofa again, which has got stained with dust and water marks. I went back to the internet to remind myself of what the recommended cleaning methods were. Again, I tried those trusted techniques and failed.

Looking at my flat now, I realized that in my attempt to tidy up, I’d just brought the whole place into complete chaos. All my junk was spread out everywhere. All efforts to fix had failed (I hope you like the F, F, F alliteration). I hadn’t even gone full circle; I’d ended up in reverse.

El Andalous - Cabinets

The Carpenter's Workshop

Quite a few of the other owners in El Andalous have gone into Hurghada and asked for items to be hand-made for them by a carpenter. You can just take your design and measurements and you can have anything made for you. Everyone praises this service, it’s also not too expensive, and people keep on telling me I should do this.

This is where I wonder if I’m really cut out for the adventure of living in Egypt. Everyone else seems to go into Hurghada quite happily to get this done with no qualms whatsoever – if anything, they are laughing at the sense of adventure. I just sit here on my sofa thinking about it and feeling rather petrified by the idea. How do you approach the carpenter, how do you communicate, will I be accosted by all the carpenters as I walk down the street, how will I know if they can do what I want, how can you trust them, will I have to bargain over the price, how do you know what’s a reasonable price, are all carpenters good or do you have to find one you can trust and how do you do find the right carpenter? All these questions run through my mind and with all these unknowns I end up feeling quite insecure.

Anyway, it was the new year and I decided to get a grip. If everyone else can do it, then so can I. I needed to look upon it as a fun thing to do. It was 2017 and I was feeling bold.

I took a taxi to El Salam Street, which is the street where all the carpenters and other tradesmen are – these aren’t shops, they are workshops. This in itself already feels quite intimidating to me, since I feel I shouldn’t really be there. Anyway, the taxi took me to El Salam Street and then asked me where exactly did I want to go. I had no idea, of course, so I just said that I wanted a carpenter and asked if he could recommend one. At this point, the conversation was too difficult (I should have looked up the word for carpenter beforehand, but I forgot), so the driver called Esmat.

The phone conversation was quite stressful because Esmat asked me if I couldn’t find a carpenter. I was then saying “Yes, here’s one, but he’s just driven past. Oh, there’s another one, oh, he’s just driven past” and I was getting increasingly uptight. I hadn’t even got there and it was already going horribly wrong! In retrospect, I should have asked the driver to let me off anywhere and I would wander down the street. However, I’d got too sidetracked worrying that I didn’t know what I was doing.

It ended up with Esmat recommending another carpenter that seemed to be miles away from Salam Street and miles away from anywhere. I trust Esmat 100% but it was still a bit disconcerting as I had no idea where I was. The taxi driver got out and started talking in Arabic to the people in the workshop and I stood there like an idiot, feeling that I’d failed miserably in my mission to be an independent explorer.

I handed over my photographs – one of my existing kitchen cabinet that I wanted replicated and then one of an Ikea bathroom cabinet. I’d written out the dimensions I wanted. I tried my best to explain, partly in English, partly in mime, and marginally in Arabic. I thought I’d made myself understood but suddenly I found them asking me to speak to Esmat on the phone, but I didn’t know what they wanted explaining. Since Esmat couldn’t see the photographs, I couldn’t really tell him much. I asked him if he knew whether they would be able to read the numbers I’d written (I’d forgotten to write them in Arabic script), but Esmat didn’t seem to understand what I was asking.

Esmat then spoke to the others and I understood enough of the conversation to realize that he was concerned that they would get the correct colour since it needed to match the kitchen. They explained back that I had brought the colour with me, so it wasn’t a problem. Esmat obviously couldn’t believe this, because they repeated it several times, as well as explaining that they had a picture with measurements (I was quite pleased that I could follow the gist).

They showed me a price and I didn’t even think to bargain; it was in any case the same price or cheaper than Ikea, so I thought it was OK. We agreed and I went away with huge misgivings. I wasn’t totally sure what anyone had really understood.

When I was next in town renewing my visa, Esmat told me to visit the carpenter again because they had some questions. I got there and they asked what colour I wanted the cabinet to be. I explained that I wanted it to be the colour I’d brought along last time. My stress levels rose. Why was this a problem? They showed me what they’d done so far and I corrected the height of the shelf. It seems they thought I’d made a mistake in my calculation. We agreed that I really did mean 32cm and not halfway. I said I’d come back the next day with the colour (why?).

I brought the colour with me again the next day, but it turned out they wanted to show me the cabinet once it had been coloured. Of course, without a direct comparison, I couldn’t really tell, but it looked about right. I explained again that the central panel was to be clouded glass. Of course, I don’t know what “clouded glass” is in Arabic, so what I actually said was “Here, glass. I don’t see here. I don’t see. I see 20%. I see 20%”. He looked at me as if I was crazy for doubting that he understood, but I was still skeptical that any of the communications were getting through.

On the day of collection, I was relieved to see that the cabinet was a pretty good replica of the ones in the kitchen. Miraculously, the clouded glass was exactly the same. As often seems to be the case in Egypt, a bunch of children watched on with interest. The carpenter cleaned the cabinets before handing them over; meanwhile I was worrying if this meant I had to pay a tip as I only had the exact money in my hands. The mirrored bathroom cabinet (I’d had to mime “mirror”) was also looking pretty good. I should have probably inspected the items properly (once the kitchen cabinet was hung up, I realized they’d put the handles on in not quite the right place and that one door was slightly higher than the other), but I was too relieved and petrified all at the same time to do anything other than smile, pay up, and run away!

El Andalous - Reality Bites

For Posterity - My Old Awkwardly-Placed Washing Machine

I’d started off in 2017 feeling quite gung-ho and optimistic. I felt invincible. This was my downfall.

I began with the enthusiastic ambition of organising myself better and I happily imagined how this would help me have an easier life in general. It was a nice idea.

We’re only two weeks in, and I’m already feeling deflated.

I was partly spurred into action by my washing machine breaking down. Well, it’s not exactly broken, but it needs to be fixed each time I use it and now the electronics are malfunctioning, so I have to try 5-6 times before the programme will register. In addition, the drum is very loud and sounds as if it is going to give up any minute.

I decided not only to buy a new machine, but also finally to move it from the bathroom to the kitchen. The space is too limited in the bathroom; the washing machine door can be opened only 45 degrees (see photo). Moving the machine in turn made me decide to increase storage space in both of these rooms. I’d been pining for this for ages.

This would be quite exhausting to do in Europe, but it’s on a different level over here. This is true, even when you’re living in a so-called luxury complex with electricians, plumbers, and a manager there all the time to help you.

I explained to Medhat, our manager, what changes I wanted, and he drew breath and told me that it was very difficult. This is always his reply. I think it really means that he can’t be bothered.

I tried to reply that it wasn’t so difficult – I’d checked with the plumber and there were already fittings in the kitchen for a washing machine and I just needed to move the fridge freezer. In the kitchen, I actually wanted an extra cabinet and some extra shelves put in, but by this time I’d been put off by Medhat’s obvious reluctance, and thought I’d sort that myself (another story).

I asked Medhat if he could arrange for a new cabinet for the basin in the bathroom; the last three times I’ve asked him if he’s ordered it, he just says it will be in the next 4-5 days. I think this is Egyptian for “Stop asking me, please, I don’t want to do this”.

Meanwhile, I ordered a new washing machine online from a shop I know. I thought this would be the easy bit. One day I got a phone call from them and they asked if I’d heard back. When I said I hadn’t, he told me they would phone back again shortly. Within 10 minutes I had an email saying my order was cancelled. No explanation was given at all. Bizarre.

I emailed back to ask why it had been cancelled but got no reply, so ended up going to Spinneys and buying a machine there. They were supposed to phone me with a delivery date. As it turned out, I was swimming in the sea when they arrived. One of the security men had to come down to the beach and yell over at me to come in. He was lucky I heard him as I’d only stopped swimming at that point because I thought something had stung me. The delivery man was annoyed because he’d been waiting for ages, so I told him that he hadn’t phoned. He had, actually, but because I was swimming, I didn’t get the call. It’s not exactly a sufficient notice period!

Anyway, I got the machine. Two days later, the men in El Andalous opened it up for me so that they could prepare for it to be installed. Lo and behold, the machine was damaged on top, buckled on the side, and had a bit flapping out. The men couldn’t see the problem and said it would still work; I tried to explain that it cost a lot of money and I didn’t want a damaged machine.

In the end, Medhat called Spinneys. Apparently they said if I brought the machine back, they’d give me a replacement. I exclaimed to Medhat that it wasn’t a bag of rice that I was taking back and how on earth was I supposed to get the machine back to Spinneys. For a fee, Medhat kindly organized a van and some people to return it, and I got the new machine.

I then had to phone for the manufacturer’s plumber to install it. I’d already phoned when I first got it, but the plumber had never called back. However, since I'd had to take the machine back anyway, I was actually quite glad he'd never contacted me.

Phoning for the plumber was also a bit stressful because all the dialing options were in Arabic and I didn’t really know what I was doing. The first option sounded a bit as if it was saying “If you are Fiona, press 1”, but it obviously wasn’t that. When I phoned this time, they knew who I was when they answered and they greeted me as “Madame Fiona”. It was a bit disconcerting, but at least it was organized. It worked in my favour because the plumber actually came on the same day as I phoned, even if it was at 8pm (you wouldn’t get that in the UK!).

The next day, I happily used my newly-installed washing machine. I went onto my balcony to relax with a coffee, but after ten minutes, I heard a gushing sound. I went in to see what was happening and there was water all over my floor.

As luck would have it, our plumber was away in Cairo. His backup did a very good job of trying to fix it, but he couldn’t. I ended up with more water over my floor. They called in the plumber from one of the other apartment blocks. I got yet more water over my floor. They did succeed in fixing it, but I’ve noticed tonight – not sure if it’s related – that my water pressure has halved. So, if that isn’t fixed, that will be tomorrow’s fiasco.

And getting the washing machine was supposed to be the non-adventurous part of my endeavours…

El Andalous - Welcome to 2017

Arriving into Hurghada

I’ve been trying to pave the way for an easier 2017 (not that 2016 was a bad year for me; I’m actually in a pretty good place in my life just now), so the week after Christmas ended up being quite busy.

One thing I did was to write a complaint email to Edelweiss. I’d upgraded last minute to business on my way back from Zurich, but it had all been a bit of a fiasco (which isn’t what you want when you’ve paid extra). Just booking it was a hassle. 

The flight originally had to be booked via Swiss airlines and not via Edelweiss (their subsidiary), since Edelweiss allow bookings only if you’re booking a return flight that starts in Switzerland. I needed my return flight to start out from Hurghada. Of course, booking via Swiss with a start airport of Hurghada meant that the price of my flight immediately skyrocketed. I ended up getting my ticket via Expedia, thinking this was cheaper, but when it got to printing out my boarding pass for my return flight, I realized that I’d booked business only for the outgoing flight, so it probably wasn't cheaper after all. It was all a bit of a mess, but the booking was my mistake.

I went to the airport to see how much it would cost to upgrade. Now, however, Swiss wouldn’t serve me and told me I needed to go to the Edelweiss counter. They also said I should leave it until the following day (my date of departure) because it would be cheaper. I wasn’t convinced about this.

I went home and tried to upgrade via internet on the Edelweiss website; I really wanted to upgrade sooner rather than later so that I would know if I had the extra baggage allowance. Anyway, Edelweiss wrote back to say that I needed to do the upgrade via Swiss.

I returned to the Swiss counter the next morning and again they told me to go to Edelweiss. I had to drag my luggage over to the next terminal and they told me I needed to check in before upgrading (I was sure it said the opposite on their website). They did this for me, so it wasn’t a problem, but just another frustrating bit of information.

Afterwards, I duly went to the Swiss business lounge only to have them query whether Edelweiss customers were allowed in the Swiss lounge. Honestly! They didn’t make a problem out of it, but it was still disconcerting, which wasn’t what I’d paid for.

And then the flight was also disappointing. They didn’t provide me with nibbles on take-off, the food portion was tiny, leaving me feeling hungry for most of the flight (I had to ask for the nibbles), they didn’t serve me with chocolates like they usually do; instead I had the ginger cake that they usually serve in economy (which I don’t like that much). The orange juice was concentrated orange juice rather than fresh, which is what I’m sure I usually get on business. On my flight over, I had felt completely stuffed; on my fight back, I was dying for something to eat when I landed.

So, I finally complained. Some poor person is going to go to work on 3rd January and wonder what sad person spends new year’s eve writing a letter of complaint. That sad person is me!