Fascist Furniture

As you probably know by now, I have moved into a new house. Being in a new house means I need furniture. I own nothing more than a bed and a table and have almost forgotten what a sofa feels and looks like. But recently I have come across more and more kitsch Stalin and Mao memorabilia. People are actually painting dictators who killed millions of people on their walls. What is this? Torture deco? All of a sudden evil dictators are all the rage. So much so that people are painting them on their walls. I have never come across a painting of Hitler on a wall… until I moved to Nicosia. I was in a ‘rock club’ with Cake and Pancake when I noticed behind me a big black and white image of Hitler. To say I was offended didn’t even cover it. In the UK, or anywhere else in the world this would have cause an outcry. In Cyprus, I blame the government. How about banning the swastika? I refuse to shop in any places where they sell any Nazi kitsch.

But now it has entered people’s living room; ok; not Hitler unless it’s a white extremist (in this case they entered their heart let so their living room is nothing now). But images of Mao and Stalin? Mao who starved 30 million of his people in his Great Leap Forward? Stalin who sent people to their deaths because of his paranoia that people will try to destroy the state? Stalin got away with it and are not as hated as the USSR was an ally in WWII. And now he can be proud that his face is on cushions and bedspreads. But not on doormats yet.

You know what’s on my wall? Pictures and memories of Israel.

Nazi crap just doesn't make the cut.

Welcome to the Neighbourhood...

If you remember, a while back I told you I moved to a new apartment in Lycabettus. Well I thought it was about time to welcome you to the neighbourhood. Here are my building buddies (no Monica or Chandler in sight...)

Apt 101 // Bjork

Didn't you hear? She moved to Cyprus. She asked herself 'what's the opposite of Iceland: Cyprus' and so she's moved to Nicosia. I popped round for some sugar and she was glueing bits of paper to the walls and making a dress for her new video that she's going to film at Coffee Beanery. When I asked her why there, she said because FloCafe was already taken by Tamta.

Apt 102 // Gym Junkie
At first I though Apt 102 was a sorority becuase I would see a bunch of women come and go at different times of the night. Then, after about a week I realised that the red, convertible sports car belongs to Gym Junkie. Tall, friendly with arms are big as my thighs, GJ is the man everyone wants to be and all the women want.

Apt 201 // The Rock and Roll Boys

Both twins. Both rockers. Both out of their minds. They are Rock and Roll. That's their names. Rock is eight minutes older than Roll. They hate Bjork because she is to 'quiet' as they say, but go round to her house for some Icelandic ouzo which ice that she specially imports from Iceland. Rock and Roll play in a band and have appeared in New Division and City Plaza where the play tavli for 'inspiration' as they say (lie).

Apt 202 // Vice President

Ms. Hernandez is perhaps the scariest person in Lycabettus. She is the VP of a mutli-billion dollar firm, and her parking space is next to mine - so you can imagine how scared I am. Also she lives right below me and can hear my comings and goings.

Apt 301 // Bossy Boots

She is a dominatrix by day and dominatrix by night who has a degree in philosophy, an MA in psychology and a PhD in Anthropology but decided to become a dominatrix, called Bossy Boots when she realised she could earn more money this way. Clients mostly ential rich and stressed businessman (not me). She is smart, rich, beautiful and in charge. And is my neighbour!

Apt 302 // BabyBusinessMan

If you want to know more... just check out the blog!

The Penthouse // Filthy Rich

The only words for FR are rude ones. But this is a classy blog and so will not appear on the screen, okay bitches! If you were a reader of this blog from the beginning, you will remember that Filthy Rich (who is just that) was married to the Nicosia Housewife. She divorced him when she found him in their bed with her Personal Assistant (he had already slept with his secretary and the nanny) and had moved onto other members of staff. After she kicked him out, he moved into my building in the penthouse which he likes to keep filled with new 'girlfriends' every week. Midlife crisis overload!

And that's it folks. Welcome to my neighbourhood.

No Water?

For the third time in 6 days I have no water again. And I’m blogging it. Which not only makes me boring and whiny it makes this the most boring blog ever. I guess things don’t always go well in the Hidden Empire (maybe I should move). But yes, no water. What fun!

My landlord (or should I say lond-lard?) treats me like a kid, and gives me ridiculous excuses. He is uncooperative but helpful whenever he wants something. Whenever he asked for payments for the apartment, he speaks clear, articulate Greek. Whenever there is a problem, such as no water, he mumbles, coughs, runs into the garden to water in plants because they are looking a bit weather or decides to treat him wife to a foot massage. I doubt he has even heard what a massage is let alone treat his wife to one.

Excuse 1: ‘You’re using too much water!’
I had three showers of 5 minutes in two days, which is nothing. How much water do you think I drink? It’s not like it’s alcohol coming out of the taps! Does he think I have a whale in my bath tub and hire someone to hose it down all day? Or that I’ve got some kind of aquarium in my living room? Please, I don’t even own a stove!
Excuse 2: ‘Someone’s been stealing your water’
How? How will they do that? Did they open up the tank and take bucket loads out? And what will they do with the water is their tank is full? Drink it?
Excuse 3: ‘Your neighbour, Vice-President has been using a lot of water and it goes to her instead of to you’.
So then there is a problem with the system then, are you going to fix it? His reply: Erm… well… no… you know… the water… it dissolves… blah blah blah…

How can the problem be solved if he doesn’t acknowledge the problem? How can I live without water if no one is helping rectify the situation? What am I going to do now? I know, I’ll come to your houses to shower. Dear readers, did I ever mention that I love you? You are the best blog readers ever! Now can I shower at your house? If you let me I’ll get you a present. Maybe free foot massages from my realtor. Now that’s an offer even you can’t refuse!

At the time of writing this I still had no water and I’m in a bad mood.
I’ll blog you when the situation changes (i.e. when it rains cats and dogs).

Water?

So it’s week two in the new house. Actually, it seems more like the Big Brother house as I have no curtains and I have about 17 windows and all the neighbours can see everything. But that’s not my problem today. I have no problem being watched. Watching me beats T.V. Anyway, no my problem is that last night I ran out of water. Now, you have to understand that if it’s one thing I cherish, more than food, more than clothes, more than winning the lottery is having warm showers and running water. I have two showers a day and I am a fair person who like to compromise where necessary. I do not compromise on showers. That is non-negotiable. So imagine my delight after coming back from the gym to find the water decreasing while I am in the bathtub. I realize there is a drought in Cyprus but it seems to affect mostly me, following me around from apartment to apartment. Why is that? I ask through clenched teeth and soapy hair? Luckily somehow I finished my shower and have not needed to use the toilet… yet. And that is something even I can’t control, and believe me… I am a control freak! If I can organize my bowl movements I would do so.

I called my realtor up and he said to go on the roof and check the water pressure pump or something that sounded like spare parts for a UFO. I didn’t want to tell him that I’m afraid to go on the roof as I might throw myself off it as I becoming more desperate by the minute.

You see dear readers, this has been a very stressful week for me, I am in a bad mood, I have no furniture, I have no internet and therefore no email or blog, I have not had time to go shopping… for food (I am not talking about clothes here people), I am swamped at work, I need a haircut and I want my wax. So the thing I look forward to the most is a shower (warm please) at the end of the day. And that is taken away from me? WTF? Sometimes I feel I should have moved to Israel a long time ago. I bet even in the desert there they won’t have this problem.

So here I am. At work. I have to wait until I finish to go home and check the water-pump pressure thing to see if the water is pressurized or something like that. You want to see pressurized? Come and look at me. If things do not get sorted this afternoon I’m moving to a hippy camp on the Dead Sea. You’ll be receiving this blog from Israel.
Then again I should put things into perspective. Health is the most important thing, and it’s important that we remember that.

Moving In

I am not sure if I mentioned it, but about two months ago I was evicted from my apartment in Nicosia. Usually it is neighbours from hell, in m case it was the landlord. I never knew that I was dealing with the devil until he started screaming like a maniac at me over the phone. Of course, the fact that the nice apartment was cockroach infested, that it kept flooding or that I could hear strange footsteps did not occur to me that I could be living in the entry to the underworld, but that’s because I am busy. I am a businessman after all, even if I am a baby still! Basically it was such a bad state it wasn’t an apartment, it was a falling apart-ment! In my new house I’m changing the name to together-ment, or at least make it sound posh and use the French word l’appartement.

So after five weeks of commuting and three of vacations I am have moved in! On Monday morning. Between the hours of 6-8. Before I went to work! Seriously! I drove up from Limassol, waited half an hour to drive 1km, and pulled up outside my new block of flats called Sunrise Heights.

I always imagined that when I move into my apartment, it would be all ready for me, with plush white leather sofas, a leopard-print duvet over my double king size bed with a mirror over it and white mints on the pillow. There would be a butler, two maids, a personal trainer and a flautist (for classical music on a loop). Instead not only do I have no duvet but no bed either. I’m camping in my own house. Not that I’m complaining. I love my apartment! It’s the perfect business accessory!

Of course when moving in I was in such a rush that I dropped three of my shirts in the dirt, left a trail of underwear all the way to my apartment (I mean together-ment) and almost got locked out. Then while I was unpacking I left half my books in the elevator to which I could hear my neighbours (on the first floor I think) say ‘wow what’s that.’ I assumed they were talking about my Kama Sutra book. As I was packing so hurriedly, I threw a bunch of books, magazines and photos together in a transparent box (from IKEA). So when they were going through my contents in the lift they not only saw what I read, they saw what I liked to do, and as I had photos from my holiday, they now know who I am, and probably wish they didn’t.

Then, as soon as I was about to reclaim my belongings, a stunning business woman was in the lift wearing heals, a purplue like shirt and a big leather handbag. ‘Hi, I’m BabyBusinessMan’ I said extending a sweaty hand. ‘Hey, I’m Monica’ replied. ‘And Chandler?’ I joked. She didn’t get it. But her dog is named Joey! How funny.

A Cave with a Stove

Since I moved into my bachelor pad (also known as my one-room apartment / crummy flat / glorified cave with a stove) it’s been one issue after another.

I moved in late last year, two days before Hannuka (and roughly two weeks before Christmas). In the last few months that I was living there my flat has slowly been falling apart. Although it is only five years old, it is falling apart due to shoddy work, I’m either destructive with the building (usually I’m destructive with myself) or someone comes in, while I am at work and purposely wreaks havoc. If there is a suspect for this theory, then it must either be the extreme right-wing pensioners who live downstairs, or the dog that lives upstairs.

Seriously, when I moved in I had no heating (in December!!!!!)… in Nicosia, which might as well have been Antarctica and Siberia combined.
In January, I had cockroaches coming up the plugholes. Then I discovered my neighbour on the second floor (not the right wing couple) began receiving small packages with the occasional sprinkling of white powder on the brown paper. Maybe it was a special type of cooking powder?
Then the air-conditioning didn’t work and neither does the heating (although I won’t need it now as the sun boils everything in the apartment as I don’t own curtains). Shortly afterwards I discovered that when I turned my immersion heater on all the lights would go out.

Then the drought got so bad in Cyprus that the authorities cut the water off, and for three consecutive weekends I had no water. It’s very hard for someone as dirty as me, to try and keep clean from Saturday morning until Monday 10pm. I used to shower at Cake’s mansion or in the gym. At least I got fit. And last week my toilet cracked and flooded my bathroom and seeped into the bathroom of the guy downstairs (who I believe is on the receiving end of those neatly-packed packages).

Seriously, in that hole it’s like I am experiencing the re-enactment of the Bible: insects, drought and flood… and no central heating. I mean they didn’t have that either back then did they?
So I with my rent I also get an adventure, which includes:
1) no heating
2) cockroaches
3) strangers in my building with odd parcels (why not use Akis Express?)
4) no water
5) water everywhere and cracked toilet
6) still more cockroaches and pesky neighbours screaming in the night
7) no hot water
8) no air-conditioning
9) no functioning toilet
Oh… the joys of independence.

Then I got thinking: Would this ever happen in Limassol?