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When the fan becomes of an instrument of torture of the fan; Pedro to the rescue!

 You were asking for it, IndianSamourai did it! Pedro, the return… 

My mission today was to purchase some kind of LED lamp. I waited a few minutes at the hardware store while the guy made a few phone calls asking around who would have stock. Meanwhile Pedro – who works there – was smiling at me and showing pictures of my cat on his phone to everyone around! Once I had enough, I asked for the material to be sent at home. Yep, in India you can get anything delivered at your door step! 


When Pedro arrived he offered to test the LED. I was first tempted to cut the scene short and get back to my movie. After all I trusted him! I supposed he had tried it before coming didn’t he?? But just to be sure I agreed and BAM. The adapter was missing... Note to myself: always test the goods before purchasing them! 


I took the opportunity of Pedro’s presence to ask a question regarding the living room fan. Since my brother left and I returned to the living room, for a month it is, I have spent most of my evenings with my eyes riveted to the fan, wondering if it will ever speed up. Though the speed was on maximum, it had not been making much wind. And I had a good reason for not having called Pedro yet: the fan worked. Not very well but it worked. And if I gave it to an Indian, there was a chance it would work better but there was a greater chance it would not work at all. It seems like we have a trust issue here! And yet I speak from experience… 


In Mumbai, you can’t live without the fan; you can’t breathe without the fan. It helps for the heat and the mosquitoes. A drug. The fan is your best friend until the day he decides to make itself heard and starts to make some TAC-TAC noise. If he continues after you give him a few BANG, your only option is to turn it off and sweat in silence! It is impossible. This TAC-TAC is some kind of sheer Japanese torture I tell you. 


And then sometimes the fan goes TIC-TIC. TIC-TIC is manageable with ear-plugs.  

That’s how I have been managing for weeks, waking up early every morning to the sound of TIC-TIC (which comes when the fan is warm), putting my earplugs on, going back to sleep, and finding it impossible to wake up later on on time for work...  

But well, Pedro was there... So while we were at it, I entrusted his (expert?) hands with two of my fans! My bedroom fan thus ended up in pieces and as one again.


Results of the game: my living room fan is now going full speed and the bedroom fan continues with its TIC-TIC. Not so bad!




Blowing fuses (end)

He finally called the head of the society who came to see the damage: acrid smoke in the box room. Then he explained to me that no electrician would come at this hour and that stores were closed and anyway on strike because of some new tax... 

In the meantime I had gone back up to see if moving up the fuses had changed something in the apartment. And the neighbor I had bothered to find out where the fuses could be had found the business card of her electrician! And the little fellow arrived within ten minutes. Called a buddy who had a spare part. He managed to do some bandage to my electricity box which would allow us to have some electricity for the night. And he came back the next day to fix it all properly.

If this isn’t beautiful!!






Blowing fuses

Here is what happens when four Westerners live in an apartment planned for eight Indians: we blow fuses! Literally... Although the word is weak. The fuses did not only blow, the whole box exploded. I have to confess a heater was on as well as an AC, two magnetic plates and the washing-machine...

I quietly finished my shower in the dark (it was a Friday evening of May, at around 8 PM) and sent one of my Westerners to talk to the watchman and ask about the fuses (because the box is not in the apartment, curiously). Except that I am the "goddess" of the watchman: he refused to do anything without speaking to me! At least this is what I understand when my Westerner came back up with zero information. But actually no. The good chap had explained to my friend that 1. He had finished his shift, 2. We had to wait till tomorrow. And my friend had not understood anything!


This led to a heated discussion in Hindi (I had no idea I had such resources!) where, in brief, I yelled at him that I didn't care he had finished his shift, that he could be sure I was not to spend a night without electricity (it was more than forty degrees), that I didn’t believe his story of strike of the stores and that he was going to move his ass faster than this, non mais oh!

Here I have to say that 1. I yelled but it was for the form, deep down I was laughing and he could see it (even though he didn’t know really on which foot dance!) since he replied that I had well managed to get my car battery fixed on my own so I could do the same for my electricity!

And 2. I am well aware that this kid sleeps most of the time on the floor of the building ground so that it was very bourgeois and selfish of me to demand that he helped with my fuses but at some point we each have to deal with our own shit (I hope you will forgive my French but I am just trying to be honest ;) )...


And then...


(To be continued!)

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