Accommodation

The car came to a halt outside at what was to be my digs for the following two years, just as darkness had successfully took charge of the evening, leaving an oppressive, motionless heat. I looked eagerly out of the car window and my eyes fell upon a shadowy, featureless, square block of a building, which had an authentic, Russian, 1950s look about it, though I knew the USSR had played a large part in building up cities like this one.
“What souls had lived here? What stories they could tell,” I pretentiously thought to myself, as I stepped gingerly out of the car. A chicken dodged my feet as I stepped out. At the front of the building was an overgrown garden protected by a metal-spiked railing, though the railing had long since lost the battle of containment. In the middle of the building was a square, door-less entry separating two apartments, with dirty, erratic-placed wires stretched and hanging, as ungoverned and unsupervised as the vegetation.
“My shirt is too thick for this heat,” I thought, as a young, slender woman and myself walked towards the entrance. I was sweating profusely and it felt like the hot air had penetrated right into to my bones.

Any hint of light soon disappeared as we entered the entrance to the building.
“Very sorry. No electric,” whispered the young, slender woman, as she fumbled embarrassingly in the dark with the key to a metal door. The musty smell of damp and dust was now rising in my nostrils. Mosquitoes buzzed annoyingly around my head.
“We go for meal now,” said the young woman with growing confidence, as she finally opened the metal door, only to reveal an older, much less secure wooden door. As soon as the wooden door was opened, I was ushered forcibly into a dark, large square room, with a few barely visible objects placed around the room. By habit I reached for the light switch, but to no avail.
“Very sorry. No electric,” repeated the woman, laughing nervously, only to order immediately,
“Get changed quickly”, before she turned around and left.
“Meet you in car. Quickly,” she added before disappearing out of view, leaving me in a dark, unfamiliar room, with my entire possessions in two travel bags.

I had been travelling for two whole days and desperately needed a shower, before I changed. I literally stumbled around the room until a found a doorway that led to very small room containing a toilet. Desperate for light, I tried the light switch again, but in vain. Though frustrated, my heart soon lifted, as just to the right of the toilet was a showerhead. I stripped down quickly and stepped under the shower, but even that failed to work. Becoming more desperate I searched frantically and eventually found a plastic bucket. I filled the bucket up with cold water and threw it over me. The sharp coldness of the water was refreshing and I immediately felt better, returning my mind to equilibrium. Just as I opened my eyes from the splashing water, the electric returned unannounced, and for the first time I could see my new home illuminated in all its glory.

As soon as the light came on I leapt in horror, as an army of cockroaches began scattering in all directions. I ran naked out of the confinement of the WC and into the large room adjacent, shivering with fright. The large room was sparsely decorated with a table, a hard, uncomfortable sofa and two dining chairs. After a short while I peered tentatively into the WC, checked the coast was clear and finished using my improvised shower. The flush mechanism in the toilet was broken, as were the tiles behind it. The showerhead was held in place with string. A large soil pipe was on the right-hand wall, with a slanting soil pipe veering off from it. There was also an open sewer with only a brink covering the hole, with large gaps between the floor and the beginning of the wall. I found out later that some large rats had created the holes in the skirting boards. Worms were often seen around the open sewer. There was a little shelf with a bottle of fabric condition balanced on it. I removed the fabric conditioner bottle once, with the intention of throwing it away, but it was actually housing the army of cockroaches, which mobilised aggressively whilst under the threat of eviction. For the first few weeks, we had an understanding: I left the bottle in place, if they remained in the bottle when I used the WC. I later returned with an unannounced attack and an insect spray akin to Saddam Hussein’s lethal nerve gas. A large slip-on shoe was improvised for the cockroaches debilitated by the nerve gas.

As you stepped out of the WC, you could either step into the large reception room or the kitchen area. The kitchen area was formally a bathroom, as originally there was no kitchen. When the building was built people ate in a communal dinning hall. A porcelain bath had been turned upside down with a makeshift top place on top and a gas cooker placed on top of that. The upturned bath was a botched job, because a snake later on had laid its eggs inside the bath. One summer, I found a young snake wrapped around a gas ring, a snake in the WC, one wrapped around a spoon and one in my front room. The sink was simply a miniature, hand-washing sink you would find in a bathroom, which made washing anything other than your hands impossible. The floor was made of stone and the kitchen had an open drain. After my first year there, the college put in a porcelain kitchen sink, which made washing dishes easier, as previously I had to wash dishes in a bucket just like in a small, open-air restaurant. The college also bunged up the holes at the bottom of the walls, which stopped the rats coming in: rats really do have a 'rat run', that is, a route they frequently take. I have also since found out that if you corner a rat, which I recommend you don't, they squeal and hiss like a cat and attack you. The kitchen also contained a tall fridge and a microwave oven.

I was later told than this apartment used to belong to the president of the college.
“Was he Russian?” I though privately to myself. Before long I decorated my living room with some cheap, colourful pictures, aired the place thoroughly, caused all manner of insects to retreat, and the company of the many students that visited made a difference and actually turned a dreary apartment into a place that I have happy memories of.

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