I Smell A Rat

Two tea boxes on the floor, a jar of honey in the sink, onion salt shaker resting sideways on the counter, kitchen cupboards hanging wide open with a bunch of spaghetti noodles falling out of their bag, extending precariously over the shelf ledge.  After a particularly long day Friday last, I arrived home to my apartment to find the kitchen in a strange state of disarray.

After eliminating the possibility of an intruder who likes to make messes in cabinets and leave, I began to suspect the visit of an animal of some sort, possibly a bird.  That hope was quickly dismissed upon pulling open one cupboard door and finding a rat the size of a small child peering out from behind my wine glasses.  Doors were slammed shut, an old mop handle was inserted through the cabinet pulls, and some masking tape haphazzardly applied for good measure; this would be dealt with in the morning.

***
The biggest rats I've ever seen have been the ones that roam Isla Gorgona and the back alleys and subways of Chicago.  Secretly hoping my own comprably-sized rodent intruder found its own mysterious way out, I went about "unlocking" the cupboard doors.  After momentarily believing my wishful thinking had come to fruition, I found it lurking behind the wall of tea boxes.  Plan B: Block off the kitchen so the only way of escape is through the patio doors where there is actually no escape and I can either sequester it outside and/or chase it around swinging violently with the aforementioned mop stick in an enclosed space.

I should mention that there is a fuse box located on the back wall of the kitchen cabinets.  This was part of my hope when I wished for the possibility of a spontaneously disappearing rat.  I have no idea where or even if this fuse box has some sort of outlet - construction codes are somewhat open to interpretation here - that rats, for example, could use to come and go as they please.  This rat decided to try, or at least avoid my mop handle, and hide in the fuse box.  For awhile the rat was winning the battle; no matter how much I prodded and banged around, it seemed to find a way to not only avoid contact with the stick but also not feel an urgent need to flee toward the patio as I had intended.

And then the rat unceremoniously layed down and a strange odor filled the morning kitchen air.  New problem: How do I extract a large electrocuted rat from the fuse box in the back of my kitchen cupboard?  After some creative maneuvering, with the help of a clothes pin and a plastic bag, I am happy to say there is no more rodent habitating in amongst my dinner plates and spices.  Although the stench of singed rat did hang in the air for awhile...

Double Vision

Upon returning home from work yesterday I encountered my downstairs neighbor and her teenage daughter sitting on the ledge outside the front door to our multi-unit house.  They only moved in around October and with our schedules, I hardly ever see them.  Hear them, yes, but a physical sighting is rare.

In fact, the first time I met the entire family was when I returned home near midnight after a Halloween party dressed all in black, carrying a feather boa, hair spiky and sprayed silver, and with black rings painted a good two inches around my eyes.  (In the interest of full disclosure, it was also Grandma, some cousins, and probably a handful of aunts and uncles too.)  Needless to say, we don't have an intimate neighborly relationship.  I probably know their maid best; I seem to run into her during the inexplicable weekly routine of mopping the driveway.

So, despite it being February, asking about each other's Christmases and vacations was acceptable conversation.  After it was established that we both indeed had a pleasant end to 2010 and like spending time with family, the mother asked how my roommate was.  This would have seemed a mundane question, except for the fact that I've lived alone the last two years in Colombia; I have no compañero.

At first I thought, despite the use of the masculine, that she was referring to the third occupants of the house - a woman and her university-aged daughter - whose door is next to mine on the third floor.  No, she ascertained, as she looked to her own emphatically nodding daughter for reassurance, the other guy who lives with me.  Finally believing me that there is no one coming and going from my apartment but me, she turned to her daughter, shrugged, and rationalized, "well, all you gringos look alike!"

I'm not sure how to take this as I always have thought of my hair color as setting me apart from the rest of my pale counterparts, but, as I climbed the stairs, I began to wonder if I looked dramatically different each time I left the house to create the impression that I was multiple people!   I suppose I shouldn't put much thought into it seeing as how a woman who makes her maid wash places her car goes might not be that clever in the first place.

Waiting for Water

Recently I came across an interesting article on a social trend toward minimalistic living. While this twist on "green" lifestyles, leaning heavily on technology, is intriguing, I realized these last two weeks, that I could probably do it if I had to.

When I packed up and moved to Colombia three years ago - this past August first marks the beginning of year number four - I came with just two large suitcases and a pair of rubbermaid storage bins. This was much less than what I moved out of my apartment in
Manitowoc with by nearly a truck-load. Granted the school here has provided furniture, but some of it serves no real purpose for me other than marking the corners of a room. (The couches are nothing more than glorified dorm lobby pieces.)

Upon returning from the States a couple weeks ago I found I had no water in my home. This was not surprised, and half expected, as I hadn't had time to pay my utility bill before leaving for summer vacation. I was honestly excited when, after taking a deep hopeful breath, I flicked the light switch and the lights came on.

I paid my bill on Wednesday of last week, and it was only restored yesterday after a long holiday weekend and several phone calls. Now, when the utilities people said it would be turning on later on in the day that I paid, I in no way believed them - this is Colombia, c'mon! - but I honestly didn't think it would take over a week's time.

Living knowingly without water has been interesting. Showering at school at the end of the work day and then not over-extending myself for the next 24 hours was tricky, but doable. Having enough forethought to buy bottled water for the brushing of teeth or making tea was a definite mindshift. I already had several used bottles, filled from the tap, frozen in my freezer (as a way to conserve energy) and that was used for rinsing dishes, in moderation, and other chores like shaving and wiping down spills.

This way of doing things went quickly from an inconvenience to a mode de vie. I knew how much water I had stockpiled and how much was needed to do certain activities. I had worked out a bathing system that seemed to work advantageously to my schedule. I am very happy to have my water restored and available at the turn of a faucet, but I learned that perhaps I use more than I need in the first place. When people would ask if my water was back on and my response was that it was not, they gave me the expected exasperated face and "how terrible" comment. Really, though, it wasn't, but I am glad I can now stop feigning agreement.

My New Roommate

A few weeks ago I discovered I did not actually live alone in my apartment. Occasionally, upon entering the kitchen and flicking on the light I would catch blur of a little gecko as it dashed out of sight, usually behind the microwave. For about a week I would find the little guy hiding amongst the dishes in the sink and, as I turned on the water, he would dart up and out and return to his countertop sanctuary.

I decided to name him Mike (as that is where he seems to live - behind the MICrowave) and we saw each other on a daily basis for about a week and a half. I was just thinking to myself yesterday, as I was preparing to blend a delicious banana/mango smoothie, that I hadn't seen Mike in awhile. Well, today as I went to fry some yucca on the stove, Mike was waiting for me beside the knobs for the gas-top ranges. He sat there nice and still as I turned the burner on, while the yucca fried, and then wriggled away just as I was dishing them up.

This is Mike in the sink. I wonder if it looks like a water park when you're that small?


This is Mike supervising my yucca frying abilities. He must have gotten the memo that I burn things.