Bogotá's house of pain

We've all had our 'horror' stories when renting rooms, especially in shared accommodation — those of us who have to endure such things that is. In a (slowly) developing city such as Bogotá, less-than-positive experiences in this regard are, perhaps, more commonplace than in other places. Finding a decent abode at a reasonable price for what's on offer can be quite a chore.

'Can I have a wash & microwave dry, please?'

Indeed, in this day and age, some lodgings should never be made available for rent to the general public. What's more, some people just shouldn't be landlords/landladies. It's that second point that chiefly concerns us here.

Basically, in the early months of this year, this writer had the displeasure of renting a room from a woman who wants all the benefits of being a landlady but accepts pretty much none of the responsibilities.

Fair enough, it was always going to be a temporary solution, yet the initial trappings that came with the lofty monthly rent of $600,000 COP gradually disappeared during the rather painful two-month stay.

You had a table and chairs taken from the communal area, the place where we'd eat and work as there were no desks in the rooms (and who wants to eat food in a window-less room in any case?). This was done without prior warning, the house owner's standard practice as we came to learn.

She also left us without a washing machine for a number of days. A replacement was eventually installed, but one that was quite temperamental.

Despite numerous reminders, bathroom leaks went unfixed. All this at a time when the government was pleading — and continues to plead — conservation.

I managed to find alternative accommodation shortly after the communal table went AWOL. For my friend who also stayed there the agony continued for another month; and things got worse.

The landlady regularly promised to get another table and chairs, but such utterances were about as empty as her stomach is large — let's just say her girth is of some size.

The point of no return for my friend was the arrival of a couple from the Dominican Republic — who were put up in the garage — and the changes made around the house to accommodate them.

Apparently, the woman in that relationship is a hairdresser and obviously plans to start her profession from the garage-cum-studio apartment. 'Obviously' is used here because a sink for washing hair was installed in the kitchen (see photo above) — yes, in the communal kitchen where people prepare their meals, 'conveniently' placed beside the microwave. 'Would you like a wash and microwave dry today?' Wonderfully hygienic, that.

It's probably fair to say this isn't legal, but if it means the landlady earns some more money, that's the most important thing for her. To heck with standards and regulations.

It must be pointed out that the owner and her family also live in the house, on the second floor. The thing is, they rarely use the facilities as, get this, they own a hotel nearby and spend most of their time there. 

One can only hope that Casa Fratelly — the name of the hotel, one to avoid — is a little bit more organised and well-kept. Or maybe our esteemed landlady took lessons from the 'Basil Fawlty School of Hotel Management', and, um, 'improved' upon them.

Whatever the case, pity the poor soul who next takes up residence in Bogotá's house of pain.
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Back to old school

In some ways, this blog and writer follow a conservative path. In some ways, that is. There's an affinity with the old, straightforward way of doing things, finding comfort in a relatively uncomplicated life.

'Careful now, there aren't too many of those left.' (Photo: Pieter Hupkes.)

In this regard, for example, it's only recently I bit the bullet and bought a mediocre smartphone. This was, and more or less has been, strictly (the odd, failed Tinder use aside) for business reasons. At times, I wish I didn't have it. OK, it has led to an increase in efficiency in some aspects, yet it has also made it more difficult to 'switch off'; a matter of upping the technology discipline there, I guess.  

This low-key, unflashy lifestyle also expresses itself in the places I like to socialise in, as well as keeping up with new trends and general-interest things, especially in relation to cinema/TV and, you might even say fashion.

Now, while this conservative or what could be considered, very loosely, secular-ascetic way of living generally conjures up images of dullness and boredom, that's not always the case.

On the contrary, old school can be very much cool. For one, there's the old-school music (here I'm referring to 80s and 90s dance/pop classics – legendary stuff). You've The Godfather movie trilogy (well the first two at least), which you'll still do well to better in a host of ways.

There's also the timeless, traditional three-piece suit – always a winner.

And then you have the going-out-of-fashion barber, somebody I had the pleasure to reacquaint myself with here in Bogotá recently. No room for fancy Dan, hip, metrosexual (if not something else) stylists here. No, we're talking proper old school. An experienced hand, replete with all the time-hallowed tools of the trade – and the odd electric razor thrown in for good measure.

'A three on the back & sides.' 'That, I cannot do.' (Photo from Facebook.)

Plus, in line with that experience, barber knows best. So used to the in-and-out in minutes, 'number three on the back and sides, trim on top' job that I habitually get, I erroneously regurgitated this line to my new-found barber, Alfredo (the very able and affable assistant to the equally affable Mauricio).

 

He proceeded, with grace, to completely ignore me and do what he does best; cut men's hair with exceptional dedication and attention to detail. I sat in his rusting barber's chair for close to an hour as he seemed to practically examine and trim each hair on my head individually (decreasing in numbers as they are).

It was quite the relaxing, almost magical experience, well removed from the usual rapid-fire approach you get in most hairdressers and 'new-age' stylists. And all done for the very modest price of $5,000 COP, or less than two euros if you like.

I guess I better enjoy it while it lasts; guys like Alfredo are hard to find these days. Well, there's that as well as the fact that trips to get my hair cut may no longer be required in the near future; I've hit the other side of thirty now.

It wouldn't be going against some of my conservative characteristics to use a bit of Regaine to stem that tide, would it?