On the Edge Between Dreams and Nightmares

One never thinks about how a dream can become true in a living nightmare, before it actually happens.

When I first saw the pink house I was supposed to live in for 3 months I couldn’t believe my eyes. It was my dream ever since I was 3 to live in a pink house. The weeks kept on passing and so did more stupid rules that made the pink dream house become an awful place to live in. I can give you some examples of these rules:

• no showers after 23:00 – excellent after a party or a weekend out of town;
• washing clothes in the washing machine but not more than once a month and before 8:30 in the evening;
• not allowed to start or turn off the washing machine;
• they took our clothes off the drying place and left there just our underwear – pretty embarrassing;
• must leave the windows open when we are not home, even if frogs kept on getting in. If not, they entered in our room and opened them;
• use of the hot water (shower + washing hands, face, brushing teeth) no longer than 5 minutes;
• turn off the light on the hole way to the bathroom before 23:00;
• turn off the light on the exit hole way where we had our shoes, before 7:40 am.

These are the most annoying ones that I remember now. Most of them were told to us just by using body language or small pieces of paper with written hours, as the landowners didn't speak English.

Anyway, we accepted many of them and paid the huge rent, just because we were told we can stay there till the end of our traineeship, not having to move out on 1^st of October, how it happens usually for the rooms rented in the summer.

BUT, on Wednesday, after the meeting that Ewel (VPPD&X) had with the landlords we found out we’d have to move out from there on 29^th of September and that they want the money for this month. That was the end of our limits. So the next moment we decided to pack all our stuff the same evening, and leave the flat the next morning. Where to go? We had no idea but we knew for sure we want to leave that nightmare house.

Yesterday morning, we moved all our stuff to our LCP’s room and went to work. Once we got at work, our office colleague told us that his brother has a big free room and that he can bring some beds for us, that we can see the place after work and even move in there. So we did.

The new landlords are a nice couple in their 20s. They live in a 4 rooms flat, with another guy, a cat and a rabbit. We have our room equipped with a TV (totally fabulous for us, as we hadn't seen one in 2 months, since we’re here) and can use all the other facilities. No rules were implied yet. Hope they will be intelligent rules, at least.

It was amazing to come yesterday to work and listen to my colleagues telling me about the options they thought about for us. Each of them made his phone calls or at least cared and showed interest in our sorrow. Maybe they don’t talk English when we drink coffee in the morning and just resume their discussions with us to the main idea of the conversion, but I know they have a heart and are not afraid to use it. I’m wondering if back at home, there are as many people ready to help a foreigner that faces problems like ours.

There will always be different people: tall or short, nice or unkind, smart or dumb. Anywhere you go, whatever you do. But it’s just up to you which ones you choose to remember and cherish and what you want to see in them.