We love our cozy home in the Jordaan.
Having grown up on the west coast of North America, I am so happy to live in a place built before the 1970s, in a neighbourhood where bikes out-number people, and dogs out-number cars. When people visit us, they are immediately struck by the charm and character of our humble abode, and we are the envy of our neighbours for having windows on all sides, a skylight, and a [however inaccessible] roof terasse.
The Jordaan is an enchanting neighbourhood in the west part of Amsterdam Centrum that hosts two markets -- a farmer's market 15m from our doorstep every Saturday, and a vintage and organics market 100m from our doorstep every Saturday and Monday. Every block has either a gallery or a cafe/bar, or both, and we are surrounded by canals on all sides. Apartments in this neighbourhood are considered small, even by Amsterdam standards, but with the Jordaan as your living room, it's still one of the best places to live in the city.
When we first moved into our new home, the usual repairs and upgrades were required. Some paint, a ledge for the windowsills, some flooring in the closet, nothing that seemed too out of the ordinary. Since then, at exponentially increasing intervals, our home has become a source of entertainment for our friends who have been following our drama.
This weekend I came home at 5:30AM on a flight from Abu Dhabi to an email from our downstairs neighbour telling us that the re-occurring leak coming from our toilet and leak coming from our washing machine are back. Then Reinier woke up and greeted me with a kiss and "oh, and if you use the washroom, don't close the door. It fell off and I just re-glued it". And then a few hours later while cooking lunch, "oh no! Esmerelda ate the rest of our basil plant." And there was a letter on the table from the internet company saying they owe us 0.20 euros.
To truly appreciate the humour in all of this, an explanation of the past year and a half of our cascading apartment pains must be documented. Here is my attempt:
October 2009 - move in, painting, windowsill, closet floors, install washing machine. Do not repair all the random holes in the walls, pipes sticking out of the floor, and what I can only describe as the corner of "ooze" [hole with insulation sticking out of it].
November 2009 - valve connecting washing machine to pipes is defective. Contractor does not have a mobile phone, and our flat does not have a doorbell, so it takes several attempts for the contractor to finally install a new valve.
February 2010 - valve connecting washing machine to pipes fails, and is replaced again. First appearance of a mouse in the house. We name her "Esmerelda", and do not see her again for several months.
April 2010 - we apply for internet.
May 2010 - arrival of furniture from Abu Dhabi, and covering up of holes with pictures, chairs, paintings, and plants. After many follow-up phone calls, internet company finally tells us that the source of our problem is that our apartment doesn't exist. Insisting that our apartment does indeed exist, it takes 8 weeks and 3 house visits for the internet to finally realise our apartment is not fitted for telecommunications, and that it will be impossible for us to have internet. But in the meantime, they send us a box with a router and TV box.
June 2010 - valve connecting washing machine to pipes fails, and is replaced again. New neighbour moves into apartment immediately below us. We cancel our internet, and wait for 2 weeks for them to send a new box for us to return the router, etc. in [despite having retained the old box, just in case this might happen]. Finally they send the boxes, we re-package the items, and send them back to the internet company. Our new downstairs neighbour applies for internet.
July 2010 - we receive a note from debt collectors saying that we owe the internet company for the items we had shipped back to them. We produce the postage receipts proving that they were sent back, and that we are not culpable. We find evidence that Esmerelda seems to be using one of our favourite plants to store food for the winter.
August 2010 - we receive another notice from the debt collector, and spend hours on the phone with the internet company trying to resolve the situation. Finally the internet company sorts it out, and the debt collectors [supposedly] clear our records. New neighbour [who also had drama with the internet company] finally gets internet and we share the connection. We begin to see several Esmereldas.
September 2010 - new downstairs neighbour notices closet and all of its contents are wet due to leak originating from our apartment. Valve connecting washing machine to pipes fails, and is replaced again. After a total of 5 Esmerelda captures over the summer, the Esmerelda situation peaks while my sister is visiting. She has great advice on dealing with Esmereldas, and with the help of some wood to plug up holes, and a device that emits a sound that only rodents can hear, our Esmerelda situation is back under control. We begin receiving monthly notices from the internet company that they owe us 20 euro cents.
October 2010 - our lease is renewed. The only thing worse than living in a semi-dilapidated apartment is sifting through dozens of even more dilapidated apartments for months in search of one functional apartment which you cannot afford.
November 2010 - new neighbour notices the ceiling in his bathroom is becoming discoloured, and alerts us that there is another leak.
December 2010 - after being ignored by the contractor for weeks, we experiment and figure out that it is the toilet and not the washing machine this time.
January 2011 - contractor finally comes visit, tells us it is indeed the toilet, and says he will come back with a plumber. City workers repairing the streets cut off all electricity on the block for 1 day, two weeks in a row while I am working from home and hosting a sick guest. In an unrelated incident the same week, our heating stops working and it takes the contractor 3 days [and 3 freezing nights] to fix it [i.e. no heat, no hot water, for 3 days in January, and me waiting at home for the contractor to not show up, because he doesn't have a mobile phone to ring me if I leave the house]. Lia complains that we are not building managers, that endless phone calls to the wife of the contractor because he does not have a mobile phone and waiting at home for hours because we do not have a doorbell constitutes "management", and that "managers" are well-paid because following-up with people is tedious work. Landlord pays no attention. We begin house hunt.
February 2011 - contractor finally manages to "fix" the toilet, but leaves a gaping hole in our bathroom for 3 weeks to verify with our neighbour that it is indeed fixed before he patches up the whole wall with plaster. All power goes out one day at noon in our whole flat [including hot water and heat], contractor comes with electrician to discover that the source of the problem is the electrical installation in the flat 3 floors below us. This is magically fixed the same day it happened!
March 2011 - the washing machine valve breaks again, and a "definitive" solution is reached with the contractor -- yet another hole is made into our bedroom wall, and yet another pipe is attached to one of the pipes that was sticking out of the floor. Reinier silently wonders if that pipe actually runs anywhere, but figures the contractor knows what he's doing. The contractor patches up the hole in our bathroom after 3 weeks of dry ceilings for our downstairs neighbours, and we haven't seen Esmerelda in months. An architect friends visits us, looks out our bedroom window to the neighbour's roof terasse that abuts our bedroom and says "that's illegal", turns and looks out the other window of our bedroom that abuts the other neighbour's staircase and says "that's also illegal". We reach a final agreement on a flat just up our street which is not much bigger than our current place, but it's "new". I go on a business trip to Abu Dhabi, and return to a leaking toilet, leaking washing machine valve, broken bathroom door (in an apartment with windows on all sides), notice from the internet company, and evidence that Esmerelda is back.
When we began our housing search, my criteria was: bright, at least 60 square metres, and older than the 1970s [if we wanted to live in a crappy 1970s building, we'd go back home to Vancouver!]. Reinier's sole criterium was "not requiring any repairs".
In the end, we've settled on a home from 1986, which is 58 square metres, and not very bright. But it's in perfect condition, and if anything goes wrong it as least has a doorbell.
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