Broken Promises - mardi, 17.04.07

Mardi 17.04.07 Broken Promises

Well, well. School was fine. I was introduced Corinne, the guardian of Madame Edragas’ brood and I had a private lesson with Line which involved filling out passport and job applications and scenarios for reserving and cancelling a restaurant for her grandparent’s Ruby wedding anniversary as well as planning a surprise party in McDo for her friend’s daughter.

The main news of the day takes place in Anse Mitan. I rang Léa, the owner of our future bungalow abode, to see how the workers were progressing and to organise some finalities with her. The noise in the yard and the crappiness of my phone make her almost inaudible but I catch something about an exchange. I immediately feel that something is amiss. She gives me the number for Sonia, a lady who has an apartment in Anse Mitan. It turns out that Sonia has her eye on our bungalow but that’s not all - Léa has practically promised it to her because she is seeking it for a year. We view the refurbished bungalow which looks promising enough with a bit more paint and some new panelling but it’s hopeless as Sonia is the one with the plan – the business plan that is. She spins us some yarn about already having printed out thousands of brochures with her ‘new’ address; it’s very presumptuous of her but on the other hand she may have something which interests us…

Sonia and her son live in an apartment just a stone’s throw from the bungalow. It’s clean, bright and modern. In fact it’s perfect structurally as it has two bedrooms, a bathroom, kitchen-living area and a terrace with most mod-cons. Location-wise it’s ideal as it’s close to the beach and the boat. The initial question is not why is she giving this up for a glorified garden shed but how much damage this place will do to our finances. €365 each per month. It’s a steal, although I have to consider I’ll pay more for the last month I’m here alone. There’s also electricity to consider which but without the air-con should only amount to €20 each a month. There’s even a possibility of internet connection too. We know it’s too good to be true so it’s no surprise when we go to see the owner. It turns out she’s off to collect her children from school and will not be back today at all. This gives us time to ask Sonia more questions while watching her ginger haired son gorge himself on chocolate soup and chocolate sandwiches.

The owner is called but it’s not convenient to speak to her while she’s driving. She mentions that someone else may be interested in the apartment and she sounds a bit reluctant to give it away to us for only two months while someone else may strike an interest in a year’s lease. Nic and I also find out that Sonia is keen to get her caution of two month’s rent and so on top of the €730 payment we’d probably have to pay another €1460 upfront! The joys of house-hunting. To make things more complicated Sonia says that it’s practise to cancel the EDF, telephone and internet but I suggest that we pay her for any usage over the two months as it’s in her name and she’ll be our neighbour anyway. She has to consult her husband just like the owner has to consult hers and Léa does likewise with her mother.

Léa’s mother is sprawled out on a couch when we return to L’Auberge to wreck havoc over the bungalow bliss situation. The granny is already floored (or couched rather) but we don’t hold back on Léa as we let rip. She’s a bit unsettled and even though we inquire once again about renting a studio she doesn’t cop that money is to be made. €900 is the best rip-off deal she offers. She’s either implicitly insulting us or is crap at mind-games and money-making. It’s the low season gawdammit you blaisé-pig-ignorant-let’s-please-everyone-but-not-offer-an-apology fool. I won’t apologise for my thoughts and I don’t have to orally as I keep them locked up until we let loose down the road.

After a bit of heckling Léa has given us the address for other accommodation options. It’s a shambles because it’s a tad oldfashioned but other than that you couldn’t ask for a better beachside location. We’re left to show ourselves around a ground floor apartment and a high-rise studio. The studio is cute but would be too cramped for two. The apartment is airy but a million modern miles away from Sonia’s place and we try to console ourselves by resolving that we can screw the two madames over if we take this place. At €750 it’s all about the location but Jean-Claude’s slimy glances and under-the-table workings don’t appeal to us; though at least he can put us up as soon as possible and is aware of our previous landladies antics. We take his number and take to the road. Over drinks in Point du Bout we arrange to meet with Jean-Paul and his legal-eagle friend Majid to discuss our options.

The day has been draining so far but in town we once again find Oliver perched on a stool in Cyber Délisse. I ambush him from behind and he reacts so slowly that I’d have enough time to cut his hair before I’d cut his throat. Some soldier! I drop oh-so-subtle hints about Nicola and Lorian… oppsie… Dorian. They’re off on a date tonight so Oli drops Nic home before Dorian comes to collect her. Nic and Dorian go for TexMex while Oli and I head to Chick’n Chick for carnivorous chicken grub in Lamentin. Oli manages to clock up 65 kmph on the Rocade. I knock up the music to make it seem like we’re going quicker. It’s probably a good job we aren’t because after missing the first turn-off for the regiment we nearly have a collision. My heart jumps with the car and crazy chicken lickin’ almost goes flying.

Pigs will fly but chicken’s will run. I hear that poor Chicken is in a fix. He’s battling a bad bout of diarrhoea. Lovely. Chicken run. We arrive at the bar base in one car and two pieces. I bid farewell to Oli who is now fighting with an imaginary ant-hill; I have to shine my phone around to confirm that he is 100% crazy. I head to the popote to see the guys – a drink is in order. Benoit, J.V, Lionel, Ludo and Tin-Tin are already on their way and so am I soon….