Looking for a nice, bright house?<\/p>\n
JAKARTA (JP): Ever scanned the classifieds for a place to
\nstay? This newspaper carries enticing messages from landlords,
\nhousing agents, brokers and entrepreneurial housewives (or should
\nI say home-makers?) flogging accommodation to prospective
\nlessees. They promise, \"nice, bright, spacious house, with
\nswimming pool, all facilities, 10,000 watts, furnished or
\nunfurnished, two telephones, servant's quarters,\" et cetera, et
\ncetera, et cetera.<\/p>\n
The message is near perfect, and taken at face value seems an
\nanswer to one's prayers and an end to the problem of house-
\nhunting.<\/p>\n
Considering the measly US$60,000 a year budget allotted by the
\ncompany, you secretly wish that this dream house will be
\naffordable.<\/p>\n
Your fact-finding mission makes you breathe a sigh of relief
\nbecause the \"nice-bright-airy-spacious\" house is in Menteng, just
\nwhere you want it, and as luck would have it, the rent is exactly
\nUS $5,000 per month. You are ecstatic and you startle your
\nsecretary when you break out into Louis Armstrong's, What a
\nWonderful World.<\/p>\n
You take stock of the enticing proposition in Menteng and
\ndecide to make your first telephone contact with Mrs. What's-Her-
\nName. The maid tells you that Ibu is in the mandi, or baringan.
\nThe former means that Mrs. What's-Her-Name is showering and the
\nlatter that she's resting. Be warned, landladies have a habit of
\nconstantly being in a state of mandi or baringan.<\/p>\n
Anyhow, you receive a response and Mrs. What's-Her-Name is
\ncloyingly sweet whilst her fractured speech is assertive. The
\nconversation is decidedly one-sided and takes on a drab gray and
\neasily shifts in the direction of a question and answer session.<\/p>\n
Question: \"From which country you are coming?\"<\/p>\n
Answer: \"New Castle.\"<\/p>\n
Question: \"You have family?\"<\/p>\n
You are not one for discussing your personal life with someone
\nyou do not know, but,<\/p>\n
Answer: \"Yes.\"<\/p>\n
Question: \"When your Mrs. coming to Jakarta?\"<\/p>\n
You feel horribly homesick.<\/p>\n
Answer: \"Shortly.\"<\/p>\n
Mrs. What's-Her-Name seems satisfied. She's happy that you're
\nnot a mean, sneaky, filthy philanderer.<\/p>\n
Question: \"You know we want three years in advance?\"<\/p>\n
Question: \"Are you from embassy? My last tenant, Ambassador of
\nLiechtenstein. Nice man.\"<\/p>\n
Answer: \"I am in commodities. I'm afraid I am an ordinary
\nperson.\"<\/p>\n
It so happens that Mrs. What's-Her-Name is the wife of a
\nretired businessman, she does not bite, she cuddles your infant
\nson and pinches his cheeks, and your wife takes to her as a duck
\nwould to water. End of story -- you live happily ever after.<\/p>\n
You swear at your predecessor who had the gall to welcome you
\nto Jakarta with horror stories about house-hunting and landladies
\nwho gobbled up tenants' children for breakfast and terrorized
\nhelpless wives. You smile your broadest smile and shower a few
\nmore colorful expletives on the blighter and empathize with the
\ncompany for having shipped him to Burundi.<\/p>\n
Your house-hunting was not the dilemma you had been warned
\nabout by your recently-relocated-to-Burundi friend. But, wipe
\nthat smirk off and count your blessings, there are many who have
\nnot been as lucky.<\/p>\n
Let's change the scenario and say that you are single. Then,
\nyou had better be male. Because if you are a lady, the same
\nsmiling, quivering mass, Mrs. What's-Her-Name, the pincher of
\nbaby's cheeks, the non-biter, the gracious server of teh, changes
\ncolor and assumes the dimensions of Mrs. Busy-Body.<\/p>\n
That quivering mass is almost indignant that a \"nice lady\"
\nshould stay single, as no \"nice lady\" stays single unless she's
\nup to \"no good.\" Mrs. Busy-Body's mind works differently, and to
\nher, lady minus husband equals mischief.<\/p>\n
\"But where is your husband?\" she will coyly ask, leading you
\nto believe she's harmless.<\/p>\n
So you answer, \"Here in Jakarta.\"<\/p>\n
\"Why you cannot live with him?\"<\/p>\n
You don't wish to shock her or bring on a stroke or heart
\nattack. You're itching to joke and break the grim conversation.
\nThis is no time for being frivolous. You decide to play on her
\nfeelings and answer rather morosely,\"Because it is better this
\nway.\"<\/p>\n
She then assumes a conspiratorial stance, \"Why? I know, I
\nknow, he marry? Oh, I know he keeping woman?\"<\/p>\n
This can go on if you do not take the upper hand and excuse
\nyourself saying you have Delhi-Belly (a runny stomach you caught
\nwhen you were in the Indian sub-continent). That will set her
\nthinking about the kind of job you handle.<\/p>\n
Some landladies are a superlative class of \"questions
\nwizards\". They never uttered the first cry that newly borns cry
\nin their joy of living. Instead, this species came out asking
\nquestions. Questions such as:<\/p>\n
\"Is that the umbilical cord? Shouldn't we be selling it? Are
\nyou sure this goon is my real father? Why is he burping? Do you
\ncall this yukky stuff breast milk? Where's my nursemaid? Why is
\nshe so sloppy? I don't like the way she rocks me, why don't you
\ngive her another job? Why is it you never think of serving me the
\nelixir that Count Dracula thrives on?\"<\/p>\n
One of my friends turned to housing brokers in desperation and
\nfound them a challenging lot. At least they seemed more
\ncivilized. No more searching questions, except two all important
\nqueries.<\/p>\n
Number One : \"What is your budget?\"<\/p>\n
Number Two : \"How many years in advance can you pay?\"<\/p>\n
Heaven forbid that your budget allows you only six months in
\nadvance, as these brokers do not waste time chatting up a MBP
\n(Measly-Budget-Prospective). They don't handle small deals and
\nwill let you know. At least you know where you stand.<\/p>\n
This friend's budget would only allow her places with
\nprecarious skylights, or sagging roofs with a romantic view of a
\nstar-studded night sky. She once had the pleasure of viewing a
\nplace that boasted designer touches such as a wash basin in the
\nliving room and an open-air lavatory with a rustic, thatched
\ndoor.<\/p>\n
Another friend rented a nice, little place in Kemang and
\ninherited a pious landlady who would not tolerate friends staying
\novernight. This friend went overboard with his amorous encounters
\nand brought home a different girl on a regular basis. Midnight
\nwas \"Cinderella time,\" and the visitor in question had to leave
\nno matter what.<\/p>\n
After a series of bad nights he decided to play deaf, even
\nthough Mrs. Pious was banging on the door reminding him that it
\nwas the witching hour. The next time I heard from my friend, he
\nwas back home. He had been summoned back by the home office.<\/p>\n
My own encounter was with a heavily pregnant landlady who
\ndefiantly wore the pants in her household. Whilst I inspected her
\npathetic \"pavilion\", which in fact was a glorified garage, her
\nbetter half lurked in the background, walking their two-year-old
\ndaughter, making himself useful. Mrs. Heavily-Pregnant had
\nstudied overseas and was well versed in the intricacies of
\nrenting her \"property properly\". She handed me a six page
\nAgreement weighed down with some severe Terms & Conditions.<\/p>\n
I opted to give her pavilion a miss as she would have been
\naghast if I had revealed that besides my pet panther, I also kept
\na pet ostrich. Pets were taboo, and visitors had to be
\n\"approved\". The last straw was when she said I had to give her
\nadvance notice when my only son visited.<\/p>\n
How was I to tell her that she was in for a nightmare with a
\ncompletely debauched family, and that my son visited every time
\nhe stumbled out of Tanamur or the Hard Rock Cafe.<\/p>\n
-- Marianne Pereira<\/p>", "url": "https:\/\/jawawa.id\/newsitem\/looking-for-a-nice-bright-house-1447893297", "image": "" }, "sponsor": "Okusi Associates", "sponsor_url": "https:\/\/okusiassociates.com" }