Going UP, No wait DOWN, what an elevator decides.
My adventures have now taken me to Malta. Beautiful place. Rich in history and architecture. Old and new mix with each other seamlessly. My first impression was that if I see a gladiator in carriage galloping by, I would not be surprised.
My first complete day in Malta was adventurous to say the least. The day before while walking the neighborhood, I signed up with a few agencies. One called me back the next day, the lucky one. So off we went to look at a penthouse. A penthouse! Yes, I thought I can live in a penthouse just like Annie. The neighborhood did not look very appealing but I was told it was close to the university so I thought well, that explains it. Students are not concerned with tidiness. No disrespect, I was a student myself so I know how that goes. The entryway had debris and some rib bones in front of it. In Holland my entryway was not the cleanest but my place was nice so instead of turning back I decided to stick it out.
While we were outside waiting, two other agents showed up with clients. Oh, this is going to be a bidding war. I guess this penthouse is desirable. The two agents go ahead but we wait for the owner. When he arrived, he put us in the elevator and he took the steps to the fifth floor.
The elevators here are so small that barely four people can fit. So we went up. As we got closer to the fifth floor, according to the lighted numbers, the elevator started to shake. It shook three times. And then stopped. The doors opened and as I got ready to step out, the doors closed again and we started to descend. All the way to floor -3. That is right! Floor -3.
Now, Giovanni does not like enclosed spaces and apparently the agent doesn't either. We reach the sub sub basement and the doors do not want to open. Whatever number we press, nothing was budging this elevator. We tried the call button and even that is not working. By now, I can hear Giovanni starting to breathe hard and the agent is just jamming buttons. At one point, her voice start to catch and I am thinking that she is going to break down anytime. I try to calm her by saying: It is OK, we will get out but of course I had no clue how I was going to accomplish that. I did not want to die on my first day in Malta. But how will I cope in this small box with two hyperventilating people. I did not have a paper bag with me.
Through all these thoughts we were still pushing buttons. At one time the doors opened halfway and closed again. What the hell. Even I start to question this situation seriously now. Then the doors open. We were in some sort of garage in the darkness. The agent hoofed it out of there with Giovanni close behind and me trying my best to keep up. Empty dark garages remind me too much of killing movies. Apparently that scares me more than small iron elevators with their own will.
Needless to say, when we reached the fifth floor and saw the studio/penthouse that was smaller than my bedroom in St. Maarten we did not stay long and we were gone in a flash.
My first complete day in Malta was adventurous to say the least. The day before while walking the neighborhood, I signed up with a few agencies. One called me back the next day, the lucky one. So off we went to look at a penthouse. A penthouse! Yes, I thought I can live in a penthouse just like Annie. The neighborhood did not look very appealing but I was told it was close to the university so I thought well, that explains it. Students are not concerned with tidiness. No disrespect, I was a student myself so I know how that goes. The entryway had debris and some rib bones in front of it. In Holland my entryway was not the cleanest but my place was nice so instead of turning back I decided to stick it out.
While we were outside waiting, two other agents showed up with clients. Oh, this is going to be a bidding war. I guess this penthouse is desirable. The two agents go ahead but we wait for the owner. When he arrived, he put us in the elevator and he took the steps to the fifth floor.
The elevators here are so small that barely four people can fit. So we went up. As we got closer to the fifth floor, according to the lighted numbers, the elevator started to shake. It shook three times. And then stopped. The doors opened and as I got ready to step out, the doors closed again and we started to descend. All the way to floor -3. That is right! Floor -3.
Now, Giovanni does not like enclosed spaces and apparently the agent doesn't either. We reach the sub sub basement and the doors do not want to open. Whatever number we press, nothing was budging this elevator. We tried the call button and even that is not working. By now, I can hear Giovanni starting to breathe hard and the agent is just jamming buttons. At one point, her voice start to catch and I am thinking that she is going to break down anytime. I try to calm her by saying: It is OK, we will get out but of course I had no clue how I was going to accomplish that. I did not want to die on my first day in Malta. But how will I cope in this small box with two hyperventilating people. I did not have a paper bag with me.
Through all these thoughts we were still pushing buttons. At one time the doors opened halfway and closed again. What the hell. Even I start to question this situation seriously now. Then the doors open. We were in some sort of garage in the darkness. The agent hoofed it out of there with Giovanni close behind and me trying my best to keep up. Empty dark garages remind me too much of killing movies. Apparently that scares me more than small iron elevators with their own will.
Needless to say, when we reached the fifth floor and saw the studio/penthouse that was smaller than my bedroom in St. Maarten we did not stay long and we were gone in a flash.
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