Culture Shock: Chennasty Days

Culture shock can be depicted as a curve, much like a “u.” Imagine, coming into a new culture. At first, you are in the “honeymoon stage” of oohs and aahs...everything is cool and interesting. That’s the left-side top of the “U.” After a bit, the differences between your home culture and this new culture start to become more apparent, and tolerance for these differences begins to wear thin. When one is at his/her lowest, or at the bottom of the “U,” he/she may prefer to be alone and seclude him/herself; or view everything in a negative light. As time wears on, one typically will begin to understand the new culture better or become more comfortable with the differences and begin to climb out of the “U.” The theory goes on to explain that once an individual reaches the right-side top of the “U,” he/she has successfully adjusted to the new culture.

This is not to say that there is only one “u” for an individual to overcome. They come and they go. When living in community, it is important to remember that people experience the highs and lows of culture shock at varying points. To assist our little community of transients in staying aware of when one of us is experiencing a high or low, we have had t-shirts made sporting the terms “Chennice” (for good days here) and “Chennasty” (for days when we’ve just about had it, and people would be wise to steer clear).

Until recently, I cannot remember a day where I felt like I had reached the depths of the cultural “U” enough to sport my “Chennasty” shirt. During this period of shifting, however, I have had more days wishing I had a closet FULL of that particular shirt than I would like to admit.

Let us all praise God that my friends and co-workers made it through this time. I am happy to report that the shirt has been officially tucked back down to the bottom of my clothes pile. May it rest there in peace for the next four and a half months.



[Sometimes the crowds on the streets can just be too much...other times, it's kinda fun. This image from T. depicts the shopping district preferred by locals, which a friend of ours/local yoga instructor took us recently.]



[Waiting on the cows/water buffalo/whatever to cross the road can lead to explosions of anger on your more Chennasty of days...other times, it just looks like a great photo op!]

Shifting Spaces: Part 2...

MOVING IN:




[T. and N. had mattresses delivered to their new, unfurnished flat...this was the priceless shot T. caught of the "delivery truck"! Can you imagine?? I can barely stay balanced on my cycle, let alone maneuvering this awkwardness through our city's streets!! I guess he DOES have a tiny trailer for it to balance on-but still!]


Renting here is a curious thing. I will spare you the details of our prolonged search for a new place. Once found, it took a number of weeks to negotiate our lease and fees. As mentioned before, there is the matter of 10 months deposit. Then, there is also an agent to pay. I have had to pay an agent’s fee for a rental in Boston. That agent actually found a place for us to look at and handled all the negotiations with our landlord. While it was painful to pay that fee, it was at least understood that some work had been involved on the part of the agent.

In our case here, we found a place online, dealt solely with the owner of the property ourselves, and literally made one phone call to the agent. And for that, it is generally accepted that he receive one month’s rent as payment! Please note: this is TWICE what some of our staff, who put their lives on the line, are paid for a month of arduous work. HUH?!

Then, we are dealing with a lease that uses phrases even our staff attorneys could not make sense of...so, after a week of back and forth on our lease, an agreement is finally signed. We moved our stuff via auto (4 trips back and forth), and despite its already having been “thoroughly cleaned,” we began a thorough cleaning of our own (things were still growing in the fridge and counters were extremely sticky).

Overall, the new flat is fabulous! It is such a relief to no longer be in transition. We have a playground below our window, which is always full of neighbourhood kids. We have plenty of tacky 70s looking velour seating at our disposal. We are, once again, the only non-nationals living in the complex. I realized this when I dropped off ironing with the man who lives next to his work station in our parking lot...I told him I’d pick it up the following evening, but instead, he unexpectedly dropped it off right to our door as soon as he’d finished (I hadn’t told him where I lived).

So, as is the norm, we are still dealing with setting up our “already set-up” internet service. In one day, we had four people come by the apartment. One of the four was at the wrong apartment (he was there to “disconnect” someone’s modem...”No, sir. Please CONNECT.” “Disconnect?” “NO sir, please CONNECT”), which was eventually discovered when I realized we were not going to fully understand each other and sagely called a friend to translate. After this day of being told “I will go, and come” and being met by a completely new individual several times, we have now seen a new face every day, and yet, still do not have internet.

Part of me thinks that it is not purely incompetence on the part of the company that no one seems to come to our house prepared for the work that is expected and required. Perhaps it is more the curiosity of its staff, who simply want to see the weird western women that live on their own? I’m sure it’s neither, but it’s interesting to learn where I need God to teach me patience...the internet, of all things? Really??


[The temporary flat is the top floor of this lovely home. Auntie and Uncle lived right below-they are the sweet landlords, who had many words of advice for us. So cute.]

Shifting Spaces: Part 1...

MOVING OUT:

The past month and a half has been spent “shifting flats” (moving from one apartment to another). Our lease ended May 31st, and we were all too ready to say goodbye to the wilful termites, overabundance of cockroaches, and Superman, our unstable landlord (to put it nicely). Before we could shift, we had to prepare our current flat for its final inspection by Superman. This meant repairing fixtures (that, for all I know, may or may not have worked when we moved in) and learning that our A/C WAS truly broken-and therefore needed repairing itself. The A/C had, in fact, been leaking gas (which may explain some of the difficulty I had in waking each morning...hmmm...).

Why must we go to the trouble? Because local housing rules demand that tenants pay a deposit worth 10 MONTHS RENT before moving in. Yes, ten (10) months. All at once. In addition to actually paying rent. Considering how difficult this is for us to front, it is apparent how such a system discriminates against any but the wealthiest of citizens.

The catch? Oh, yes, it is not that simple, folks. There is NO guarantee that the landlord will pay the deposit back; especially a landlord as slippery as Superman. It was our fear that if the flat was not absolutely perfect upon his final inspection, he would keep our entire deposit. The weeks leading up to this inspection were wrought with headaches.

For example: We called daily about having someone come inspect the A/C and fix the wiring to one light socket. The daily response from both inquiries was that someone would be by later that day. One of us would wait at home later, and be sorely disappointed. Calls the next day would receive explanations such as “oh, the electrician had to attend a funeral unexpectedly” (totally understandable, but a call informing us that no one would show might have been appreciated!) or “oh, yes, he could not come” (no, really?! Well, glad that explains things). And then we would be reassured that someone would come that night, “by 8:00, Ma’am.” Uh, huh. This went on for at least a week. Finally, the A/C guys showed up (we never saw the electrician-a story for another post*). After diagnosing the problem we were told someone would come to retrieve the A/C the next morning. Fine.

This was one week before our inspection/the last day of the month. By this point, we had already been repairing things around the apartment for almost a month. These were just the final touches. Of course, no one showed up the next morning, despite my roommate skipping work for the morning to handle the issue; no one thought to “give a call” and inform us that he would not make it. The next day, my roommate got a call: “Half hour, Madame. Someone is coming in half hour.” Two hours later, someone showed up and took the A/C, explaining that it would take two days to repair and return. Two days later, no A/C and no one would answer our calls regarding its status. Three days later, we called again.

It was a Saturday (most people work Saturdays here; children even attend school). The man asked for one more day, “I will bring Monday.” Okay, that’s actually two more days, but who’s counting? In any other circumstance we would nod and shake our heads knowingly. Unfortunately, we were supposed to have our inspection on Sunday, and be out of the flat by Monday. In other words, we needed it that day. “Okay, Madame, we will bring tonight by 8:00.” Innocently, we believed the man. My roommate sacrificially stayed home, skipping out on an intern/fellows event at our office director’s house. As should have been expected, no one came that night. Instead, the man turned his phone off. Until Monday.

Luckily for us, Superman also turned his phone off on Sunday, and didn’t come to inspect until Monday night. Oi. In the end, my flatmate who handled all Superman interactions for the rest of us ended up crying (which she never does); speaking very angrily with him; and breaking her phone in a moment of total frustration before he finally agreed to return our deposit to us. This was after he berated her for having such a temper, of course, and asked her, incredulously, how she ever expected to get married, speaking to a man in such a manner. Oh, poor Mrs. Superman.

Mind you: this was just the moving out.




[V. and a friend of his helped us move N. and T. into their new flat-N. is in her third year here, and has had MANY items bequeathed from past interns/fellows/friends. Luckily, V. had a friend with a truck, and luckily, they both had muscles to spare! This pic shows me and V. goofing around with T.'s stylish hats on the last, and smallest, haul of the day. Holding items in the truck on the short drive wasn't as uncomfortable as it may have looked. It was a loooong, hot day for moving...and it was only the first of many! 1) We moved OUT of "the Penthouse" May 31; 2) T. and N. moved IN to their new flat the same day; 3) I moved into T.'s old room for a week while J., B. and I waited for our new flat to become available/lease to be finalized; 4) J., B., and I moved out of temporary housing (see photo below) and into our latest, greatest abode!]



[The temporary flat was on the top floor of this lovely home. Auntie and Uncle lived right below-they are the sweet landlords, who had many words of advice for us. So cute.]