Moving...Already!

Whilst I'm grateful for the company housing that the husband's job so graciously is providing, I'm at odds with the location. We currently live in an area that is crazy full of construction. It seems to be part of Kuwait's decor. When I look out my window, there are grand villas across the street... lush, colorful and grossly expensive villas. There are huge, unfinished villas across from them; generously decorated with dusty piles of rubble and dirt. Two streets over from villa land is the hood. Or the ghetto as I call it. And next to that? More piles of rubble and garbage. I guess they don't believe in waste disposal here. It's down right trifling.

With that being said, we decided to go apartment hunting the other day. I got an email from a friend who said that someone came to her office specifically looking for Westerners to rent to. Perfect timing and the price sounded right up our alley. Deciding to kill two birds with one stone, we also called a listing we found online in the town nearby the referral from my friend. When we got to the first location, the referral, the husband and I were extremely impressed with the layout, design and size of the apartment. It's situated among other established villas and has minimal construction on the block. I'm just glad that I can walk outside and not get dirt and dust all over my clothes and shoes. We won't have our car until next week so we came to the location in a cab. The owner of the apartment, a very well dressed Kuwaiti man who spoke relatively good English, was kind enough to have his driver take us to another location to meet the real estate agent of the OTHER place we found online. Talk about niceness. He seemed confident that we'd be calling him back.

Fast forward to the meeting place... McDonald's. The woman pulls up in a Jeep with a lady passenger in the front and tells us to follow her. We explained that we don't have a car and she responds in an accusatory tone, that WE should have let her know that. She went on to say that she didn't have much room in her Jeep. At this point, I wanted to tell her to forget it then. I really was put off by her attitude; not to mention her attire, but I'll get to that later. The husband looked at me like, whatcha wanna do now? Just as I was about to tell her "peace out"... she insisted that we ride with her and warned it might be a tight squeeze. Her passenger, partner, or who ever she was got out to let us in the back seat. She was wearing a wife beater, tank-top, wrinkled capris and flip flops. Not a good look for showing an apartment, I thought. We crammed our way into the back and WTF??? I couldn't breathe because the interior REEKED of cigarette smoke. I mean, it smelled like they were using an air freshener called Rodeo Road House. They started conversing in their language... I'm guessing Polish... which I thought was rude as hell. So I looked over at my husband and told him in Spanish that this car stank of smoke and if my hair smells like cigarettes when we get out, Imma be pissed. There are things that you don't do to a sistahs weave. Touch it, or blow smoke in or around it when she JUST washed it an hour ago. We got to the apartment in just under 4 minutes, so I finally let out my breath. I grabbed some of my 16 inch wavy hair cascading on my back and smelled it. I didn't care if that Realtor was looking or not. Luckily, it didn't smell.

The place was a high rise. On the way up in the elevator, I noticed the two chicks were checking out my attire. I was thinking keep looking beeches, you could learn a thing or two. The one lady who was the driver and apparently the contact person, was in her 50's. She donned a disheveled pony tail like she had been mopping ALL the floors in her house ALL day. Wearing the two tank-top style, showcasing her armpits and wrinkled capris... What I'd wear to clean my toilets. Who, in their right mind, wants to rent from someone dressed like that? They complimented me on my jeans and top... but I caught them eying my jewelry. The apartment was not to our liking. It had a sea view, but the apartment looked kind of crappy inside with old fixtures and a bad paint job. We quickly said no thanks. She then offered us another apartment for a higher price. I said sure, lets take a look. In the lobby and on the way to her funky vehicle, she made a statement that really pissed me off. She said that my husband didn't look American. That he looks Egyptian and that he should cut his hair shorter. WTF??? My man's family is Salvadorian... I know he needs a haircut... I'M HIS HAIRDRESSER! The box with my hair clippers is sitting on a pallet at the APO. But, who did this bitch think she was telling me that? What the hell was that supposed to mean anyway and what were AMERICANS supposed to look like? I felt a cuss out coming on... But I smiled and grit my teeth and said, "You can't see that he's Latino?" She said, "Yes, after closely looking and hearing his American accent." Like all was well and OK after inspection.

We rode in that stank-ass car for a minute or so and came to a nicer looking high rise. The place had a sea view and nicer furniture. It still was no match for the unfurnished apartment we saw earlier. The husband and I went to the living room to tell them thanks for showing us blah, blah, blah. And do you know what those two nasty, trashies were doing? SMOKING! Sitting on what would be our furniture... IF WE HAD WANTED THE PLACE... and chain smoking like old ladies in a retirement home. Are you SERIOUS! I began backing out of the apartment and the husband followed suit... backing our way out of the smoky-ass living room. And the chick followed us! We're backing out and she's walking towards us. Ugh! She put out the cigarette and said if we want the place, they will need first and last months rent... blah blah blah. I couldn't hear because I was losing oxygen. I just nodded my head and kept walking. Then she had the audacity to say that her fee would be 200 KD. I bobbed my head towards the hubby and tried not to laugh out loud. He said, "Thanks, we'll let you know."

When we got back to fresh air we laughed. "IF" and that's a big if... As if I were high on crack... we were going to pay somebody 200 KD to find us an apartment that we can go directly to the owner ourselves for, it wouldn't be to a racist, chain smoking, icky, chick like that.

We called the Kuwaiti guy back and tried not to sound desperate... Whew! Moving in next week. Thanks M!