We finally have an apartment! What a relief. It is on the edge of the “Indian” part of town, if there is such a thing considering 80 % of Dobby is Indian. Also, it is only a 7 minute drive to the office in non-traffic times (45 minutes at rush hour from 6-9 am and 4-7 pm boo hoo). I wish I could post our building name here, we don't have a street address—navigation is by building name and landmarks, but suffice it to say it is the name of the owner. Nine mere syllables in three words.
Our apartment is owned by Arabs, maybe locals, and they have their offices in the lobby where they manage all their properties in the area. This is very unusual; most of the time when you rent all you deal with is a middle man (a guy from Kerela it seems), and you never see the owner at all.
Although the apartment was painted and “cleaned”, another cleaning was necessary. The building maintenance guy—a young man from Kerela—agreed to do the job for 50 dirhams. This is about 14 dollars, which I could not stomach, so I paid him three times that much (and his friend who came along separately) even though Harry was a little upset with me. While I had them scrubbing away—they had to re-clean about three times because the first round or two was not up to my standards—(just as Harry warned me would happen if I did not keep close watch) I went to get our signed lease from the manager Abu Bakar (another guy from Kerela). Bear with me on the following story:
I walked into the office and realized not only was Abu Baker not there, but the landlords were; they had been on vacation until yesterday. This was my first personal encounter on my own with local men, in full dishdasha and ghutra, and I paused, not sure what to do. As I was standing there, the younger man comes up and says hello, can I help you. I say I am looking for Abu Bakar because I need our signed lease, but I can come back, no problem (really fast). By this time all the other guys have come out of their offices, so I am surrounded by four local guys and speaking too fast for them to really understand me. But the vibe is really kind and friendly (fatherly) and the older guy (the father and main owner) says welcome, welcome, how can we help you, please sit down. So I sit. And looking up at all four of them, tell them I need the papers for apartment 418 because we are just moving in. Another older man says, 410? In this building? You are in this building? So I calm down a little and say slowly with a smile, no Sir, four-one-eight please, the lease is in my husband’s name. He goes and ruffles through a box (remember, three other guys there smiling), looks puzzled, and then says Harry plus plus ? (a little confusion on his face with the non-white name) 418? Ahh, very nice new apartment, yes?
I say Yes Sir, thank you so much, I appreciate your help and pop up ready to run out of there because I am embarrassed at being so jumpy. Then the younger guy, with laughter in his eyes says no no, sit sit, we must make copy, relax. And I sit, with the three of them there smiling, and wait for a couple minutes until the copy is made. The young guy gives me the lease, they all say good-bye, come if you need anything, etc., and I say thanks as I am already moving for the door (my back was actually to them by this point—but I imagine they were laughing).
By the time I got back upstairs, I realized I had not even given my name, and acted like a fool. So I sucked it up, went back downstairs, and went in the office. The young guy came out (remember, all these guys look like kings in their crisp white robes and white ghutra head-pieces) and asked me if I needed anything. I said no, but I did not introduce myself properly, I am Sadie and my husband is Harry. The guy asked again, but do you need anything? I said no, I just did not introduce myself properly before and wanted to correct that. He got this huge smile on his face, gave a little bow with his hand on his chest and said, “I am Abbas (names changed), my father is “first part of building name”, this is my uncle Abdullah (pointing at guy in his office) and this is Mohammad (another guy in the office). We are here everyday, please come if you need anything." I replied -it is really nice to meet you, my husband will come say hello when he can, and thank you for everything. And Abbas says, please give my regards to your husband—again, all of this is with a really warm smile (nothing weird/etc.). I say have a good day and good bye and leave. And that was that, a really warm and pleasant experience over all! Despite my initial nerves, I am really glad to finally interact with people from here and hope to have further opportunities.
(One of our friends who has been here for a couple years said I scored some serious brownie points with my personal introduction because such introductions are important to Arabs—my instincts confirmed that).
Our apartment is owned by Arabs, maybe locals, and they have their offices in the lobby where they manage all their properties in the area. This is very unusual; most of the time when you rent all you deal with is a middle man (a guy from Kerela it seems), and you never see the owner at all.
Although the apartment was painted and “cleaned”, another cleaning was necessary. The building maintenance guy—a young man from Kerela—agreed to do the job for 50 dirhams. This is about 14 dollars, which I could not stomach, so I paid him three times that much (and his friend who came along separately) even though Harry was a little upset with me. While I had them scrubbing away—they had to re-clean about three times because the first round or two was not up to my standards—(just as Harry warned me would happen if I did not keep close watch) I went to get our signed lease from the manager Abu Bakar (another guy from Kerela). Bear with me on the following story:
I walked into the office and realized not only was Abu Baker not there, but the landlords were; they had been on vacation until yesterday. This was my first personal encounter on my own with local men, in full dishdasha and ghutra, and I paused, not sure what to do. As I was standing there, the younger man comes up and says hello, can I help you. I say I am looking for Abu Bakar because I need our signed lease, but I can come back, no problem (really fast). By this time all the other guys have come out of their offices, so I am surrounded by four local guys and speaking too fast for them to really understand me. But the vibe is really kind and friendly (fatherly) and the older guy (the father and main owner) says welcome, welcome, how can we help you, please sit down. So I sit. And looking up at all four of them, tell them I need the papers for apartment 418 because we are just moving in. Another older man says, 410? In this building? You are in this building? So I calm down a little and say slowly with a smile, no Sir, four-one-eight please, the lease is in my husband’s name. He goes and ruffles through a box (remember, three other guys there smiling), looks puzzled, and then says Harry plus plus ? (a little confusion on his face with the non-white name) 418? Ahh, very nice new apartment, yes?
I say Yes Sir, thank you so much, I appreciate your help and pop up ready to run out of there because I am embarrassed at being so jumpy. Then the younger guy, with laughter in his eyes says no no, sit sit, we must make copy, relax. And I sit, with the three of them there smiling, and wait for a couple minutes until the copy is made. The young guy gives me the lease, they all say good-bye, come if you need anything, etc., and I say thanks as I am already moving for the door (my back was actually to them by this point—but I imagine they were laughing).
By the time I got back upstairs, I realized I had not even given my name, and acted like a fool. So I sucked it up, went back downstairs, and went in the office. The young guy came out (remember, all these guys look like kings in their crisp white robes and white ghutra head-pieces) and asked me if I needed anything. I said no, but I did not introduce myself properly, I am Sadie and my husband is Harry. The guy asked again, but do you need anything? I said no, I just did not introduce myself properly before and wanted to correct that. He got this huge smile on his face, gave a little bow with his hand on his chest and said, “I am Abbas (names changed), my father is “first part of building name”, this is my uncle Abdullah (pointing at guy in his office) and this is Mohammad (another guy in the office). We are here everyday, please come if you need anything." I replied -it is really nice to meet you, my husband will come say hello when he can, and thank you for everything. And Abbas says, please give my regards to your husband—again, all of this is with a really warm smile (nothing weird/etc.). I say have a good day and good bye and leave. And that was that, a really warm and pleasant experience over all! Despite my initial nerves, I am really glad to finally interact with people from here and hope to have further opportunities.
(One of our friends who has been here for a couple years said I scored some serious brownie points with my personal introduction because such introductions are important to Arabs—my instincts confirmed that).
2 comments:
This is very interesting, Sadie. I am enjoying reading your blog. It is like reading a book. Only I know the characters personally. I think I have been inspired to blog, too.
Love,
Croc
Then tell me the name of yours croc!
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