Downs and Ups

About a week after moving into a nearly empty apartment -  just me, 2 suitcases, a self-inflating air bed, a borrowed comforter and a folding camp chair -  my ship literally came in: my furniture shipment had finally arrived. Boxes piled up all over the living room as I busied myself with the long-awaited task of unpacking the contents. Two of the movers headed to the bedroom to reassemble my bed. A good start!  Soon after, one came into the kitchen to announce that a piece was missing. What? “We have the two ends and the piece that joins them but where is the piece for the mattress?”  

And that was when the saga of the bedspring that was too cumbersome to go up or down the stairs in my old house in Canada began to replay in my head like a bad movie. Eventually, after a frantic, last-minute search for a “window guy” who could remove the

bedroom window,  said bedspring was hoisted through. Window Guy even put other work aside that afternoon  to help me out…for a price.

In the meantime, my movers caught the ferry back to their warehouse over on the lower mainland assuring me that the bedspring would be picked up the next day by another of their agents in Victoria, transported across to Vancouver and added to my shipment. I said see you in Heraklion to that bedspring as it got driven away in Victoria and what happened to it after that is a big mystery. That’s why you have insurance. 

Fortunately, I also have a sofa bed that I’d never slept on before but can reassure any of you who are planning to visit me that it is indeed very comfortable. Nonetheless, I’d walk by my bedroom several times a day staring in at the assembled bedframe with the mattress lying on the floor wondering what to do. I googled “bedsprings” to no avail; my missing bedspring had been custom-built for that bed years earlier in Italy.

Wednesday mid-morning, Mr. Vasilis, my landlord, and his son showed up to fix a smelly floor drain in the bathroom. Yorgos tackled the drain while Mr. V contemplated the bedframe tape measure in hand. Sipping their freddo espressos Yorgos and Mr. V conferred at the kitchen table periodically phoning people named Adonis and Stavros.

I’d misheard the Adonis part; it was actually Antonis, a carpenter, who appeared late that afternoon with promises of a new bed base within the week. True to his word, the very next week, he arrived with a toolbox, metal slats and a very noisy saw to build me a new base.

When it was completed, Antonis jumped up and down on the base to demonstrate how solid it was. (Sorry, no photo.) My only question was how I was going to move it. ”Where are you going?” he asked probably wondering why I would move all the way to Crete from Canada and still be talking about moving. He seemed a tad exasperated as he smiled, “I’m not going anywhere. If you need to move it, you have my number. I’ll come back and take it apart.” Done deal.

I really can’t imagine moving out of this apartment now. It exhausts me to think about it. First, it’s quiet in the back where the bedrooms are and I sleep soundly. Secondly, my books are all shelved. China, cooking gear, other related items and doodads are unpacked, linens stacked in an orderly fashion and clothes put away. Everything fits!  I got rid of all the boxes because where would I keep them here? My bike was taking up too much space in my little storage room but the 24-hour parking garage next door has agreed to let me lock the bike up in there …for free too.  What else? Oh yes, when it’s sunny (which is most of the time),  I get a non-stop flow of very hot water due to the rooftop solar panels. I hope that means a lower electricity bill. My pictures still need hanging and I want new light fixtures but I’ve been given a lead on someone who can help with that.  I know that Ellie lives above me, and above her is Anna with her elderly mother who used to live in Canada. Downstairs at the Triaina Taverna, Mr. Spiros always calls out a greeting when I go by. He also taught me the Greek word for “neighbour”.

All in all, I haven’t done so badly for a bit more than a month living on Odos 1878.  And of course there’s “my beach” and the view from my kitchen window.