My Apartment

The story of my apartment is strange and confusing one. Here is a brief summary: I picked up my key on Monday. In the process, I discovered that the surname of my apartment-mate was Annovi. 'Ah,' thought I with some pleasure, 'Italian!' I eagerly and somewhat nervously ascended the six flights of stairs to my apartment, noting that the total lack of elevator will certainly get me fit over the coming year (as well as breaking my back when my boxes are finally shipped over here). I inserted my keys only to find that nothing happened. So, after much time-wasting, I got the super of the building to come and let me in. Liberal application of WD40 seemed to mitigate the crappiness of the keys somewhat. 'At least security won't be an issue: I have a key and I can't get in!' I chortled to myself.

I entered the apartment to find a large amount of mess. Then I went to what was supposed to be my room, only to discover random junk strewn across the place. I entered the other room and found something rather more surprising. You see, I had been told that Annovi had been living in the apmt for a year. Yet in this room, supposedly his, I found just a suitcase with some clothes heaped haphazardly. I donned my best Nancy Drew outfit and went hunting for clues. I kept finding lots of things to suggest a new student: the same International Office orientation info pack I had; a brand new cell phone box; a guide to NY. Most confusingly, on the desk I saw a Belgian passport. No posters. No decorations. Yet in the 'spare' room (we have a kind of extra room, completely randomly. It is big enough for visitors to come and sleep in! Hurrah!) I noticed a bookshelf adorned with many, many books, a number of which were in Italian. This just reinforced the oddness of it all: it was clear that my apmt-mate was Italian, and I'd been told that he'd been living there for a year. Yet his room did not suggest this at all. I left feeling very dejected, in part because my room really resembled a prison cell, even down to the black metal wire-frame bed. But the story doesn't end here...

I went back to Anita's and had a lovely long chat to Chloe which really reassured me. Then I went to meet Adam and James (they are about to begin the second year of their PhDs in the History dpmt and have most excellent taste in music) for dinner. Afterwards James and I walked to the edge of my street. I debated going back into the apmt, not wanting to get demoralised again. In the end I decided that I would go. I climbed the stairs, only to find a man sitting outside. He asked if I was the person who lived at number 64 and then told a very confusing story, which goes like this: his name is Thomas. He is the Belgian. Annovi is indeed Italian. He is away until the beginning of September. Thomas has never met Annovi, but he is friends with a German named Julius who lived with Annovi in the apmt last year. Thomas, like me, is new to NY (he's just starting his MBA), but he doesn't have an apmt yet. Julius was told that I wouldn't be moving in until the beginning of September (he apparently still has a key...this is a little confusing but probably a result of Columbia double-charging for the room) so he said Thomas could stay there whilst it was empty and he looked for an apmt.

Two questions then present themselves: 1) why was Thomas sitting outside, and 2) why does it appear as if Annovi doesn't actually occupy either room? The answers: 1) Thomas was sitting outside because my apmt has two locks. But he only has the key to one of them. When I left I locked the top lock, thus locking him out. He had left his passport in his room and had no ID, so the building's super wouldn't let him in. Hence his look of delight when I happened upon the apmt: he'd have slept in the stairwell if I hadn't arrived. 2) Annovi used to live in my room, but when Julius moved out, he swapped to Julius's old room. So he is basically 'between rooms', and all of his stuff is boxed up in our spare room. Thomas was extremely apologetic about the mess, explaining that he didn't realise I'd be arriving yet. As far as I was concerned this was all rather odd, but fine, and I left. I had planned to move some of my stuff in yesterday, but the rain was torrential and I couldn't get everything soaking wet. I just went back into the apmt and it is now very clean and tidy. Thomas is still there, but wasn't in. I think he's moving out at the end of the week, but he seems very friendly so I don't mind having him around. I haven't even fully moved in yet anyway. Thus concludes the odd tale of my new apartment. Photos soon.


Before I go, some congratulations to be offered:

Sir Charles and Judy Mackerras on their 60th wedding anniversary.
James Robinson on getting AHRC funding for his PhD.
Jo Wickham for getting her job at Penguin.

Hurrahs to all!