„Is there hot water?“
„No.“
„But the receptionist said there would be water at six!“
Knowing smile.
„I'll go to ask.“
Just one of the small dialogues that I'm so used to now, from my trip to the north with friends. Still I hold these little dialogues in my head when there's again no hot water. Or when I first have to ask someone to heat it. Or to get the machine going.
Don't get me wrong: there are everywhere showers and water in Pakistan. But in the places that we were at in the north, they had sometimes already closed because the season had ended, which meant that the people were slowly leaving the town going to the south at it would be too cold soon to stay. This also meant: poor hot water supply. Or sometimes the electricity wasn't always there, so that they restricted the water boiling to 3-4 hours in the morning and evening. This can also get delayed if the electricity is away for longer. Or there's no hot water at all.
What you come to love in a situation like this:
two baskets
The bigger one for catching the hot, steaming water, while it's there (and for your friend to use after you had a hot shower and there's no hot water left, cause it's gone again...).
The smaller one for pouring the water over your body and having „a shower“.
These two items come in handy to washing your clothes by hand (what I do since several months, oh yeah, my dear).
Or to pour the water in an old washing mashine which doesn't supply itself with water:
This whole procedure might also explain why I was sometimes dragged away from a chat with an explanation like: „sorry, we have HOT water now!“ after travelling for three to four days with just cold showers...
2 Kommentare:
but daah´ling, didn´t you go to the Sproutbau school ;)
xx
c
Mwhahaaar! This really made me smile! Far too many places did I stay where hot water was promised but the reality was something different. It soon became a big joke everytime it was promised. Ok, not everywhere was terrible, but always you could never be sure.
Handwashing clothes in a bucket? YES! For sure! Then meditate on a orange on the balcony while clothing dried and mist rolled up the valley below. But occasinaly the washing-wallah was a pleasent luxury. How they keep track of which clothes belong to who is a mystery....
Thank you again for bringing back some happy memories.
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