“Key to my heart (and my shirts)”The keys, or les cleys (ou un clef) a Francis, was a real head scratcher. Once you see them, you’ll understand. See. Yeah, not exactly your average Yale-brand lock. It’s the kind of thing where if we lose it, no one is getting in for 200 years.
So we hunted around for a locksmith to make a copy, eventually stumbling on Clee Cite behind the train station. The locksmith (who, as an aside, was the absolute spitting image of Disney’s Geppetto), took a look and explained to ass that this was a very unusual key as it was 2 cm longer than most common stock. So not only were we going to have to find someone to make an artisan key replica, but we were going to have to find one who specialized in peciulularly sized ones. Marvelous.
After two days of inquiring with every locksmith in the Paqui (our neighborhood), we eventually found a place that specialized in state of the art locking mechanisms that happened to have an unusually large backstock, and a key was born.
“Reach Out and Touch Someone”
In the 21st Century, two media dominate interpersonal communication – the mobile phone and email. The latter proved to be far less of a problem than anticipated, although the solution may result in someone accidentally receiving an order of Chana Maasala and Naan instead of an email.
Having just come from New York, our first instinct vis-à-vis internet service was to walk around our apartment with my laptop and find someone’s wireless to sponge off of. We were not having much luck in the kitchen, bathroom (you’d be surprised how useful it actually is) and bedroom until we got up close to our front window. There popped up a feed called “Gandhi,” which was not-so-coincidentally the name of the Indian restaurant across the street. We locked on and popped out a few “Hi, we’re here” emails to our folks, and then went about the business of unpacking.
Later that night, while watching the outdoor seating area at this very popular and fabulous smelling eatery across the street, we noticed all the waiters were taking orders on little tablet PCs. So yeah, we’re sponging internet off the ordering system at an Indian restaurant, a move that reeks of desperation (and curry).
The phones, on the other hand, were not as easy to sort out. A bit of background: Jaren and I both studied in England at various points (coincidentally, at the same time). At the time we both bought mobile phones with local numers and in both cases we were promised that they were onlocked and open for different European SIM cards.
Well, on arriving in Geneva, Jaren plugged in her phone and nothing happened. Dead. Tot. Kaput. Mine charged, but my English SIM didn’t pick up. We found an Orange store (my English service provider with a large continental presence), however everytime we went in, the place was crowded and we got a bit, um, overwhelmed (we got the palsy, ok. It’s not politically correct, but its true).
Finally, we got in to speak to a rep and turns out, the salesman in England lied to my face. The jerk told me at the time that my phone would work in the US (it would, but no US company used SIM cards at the time except TMobile, and they weren’t around in Boston then), but he also told me that my phone was unlocked and open to any European card. Well, if I ever see that little SOB again, I’ve got ol’ Jack Johnson and Tom O’Leary ready to drop two on the kisser (points for movie recognition).
In the end, we ended up going to a local provider and getting a pretty good deal on starter phones and a basic plan. So, with that in mind, anyone who wants to call or text us from stateside can use the following numbers:
Jaren: +41 (0)78 621 5933
Steve: +41 (0)78 621 0886
And for the record, here they are…
1 comment:
I'll stick w/email.
Hugs & kisses,
Aunt Nancy, Tucson
(You know, where Jet Blue just began direct non-stop service from JFK, that place you just left)
Post a Comment