Swingin'

Everything is an adventure. I suppose I've said that enough in this blog but it still surprises me. Need a lightbulb? Expect to spend a day or two looking, then another couple days asking around, then just learn to live with it a bit darker until you stumble across a hole-in-the-wall lighting place and find what you need.

So, when Lauren suggested we put a swing in your front yard, I knew I had to focus or the kids would be all grown up by the time it was done.

Step one was finding rope. I forged out on my bike with a friend and, after a few hours we found a ship building area with a guy selling rope the size of my arm (yeah, I know: huge). He did, however have some much smaller rope that looked perfect. The spool of this rope was the size of a small car. After many attempts at communication and some numbers and diagrams scratched into the dust on the floor, I discovered he only sold it by the kilo. What? Could I also get a yard of beer? So, he got out his scale and started to unroll it. When it seemed long enough, we told him to stop. He cut it and we were on our way. I'm sure he thought we were very strange for needing such a small...amount...of rope.

On our ride back, we saw someone selling wood. Eureka! I quickly pulled over and asked the two young men how much for that perfect piece of wood you have sitting there, earning you nothing. They made the Vietnamese gesture that means no or go away (palms out, rotating wrists: a double beauty queen maneuver). Nope, we are not selling that 'cause we are on break. Off they walked. No wood that day for us.

That rope has sat in our front yard for about 3 months. Then, we had a break. No visitors, nothing to grade, no playdates, no appointments, no bulbs out. Colin and I struck out on my bike again to the same area. Bringing Colin was a stroke of genius (luck). Folks it seems want to help kids but are much less interested in helping 41 year old men. It was Colin that spotted the place too.

From what we could tell it was a place that made doors. The man you see with his shirt off was doing some fine finishing work and the woman in the pink hat was running the place. I showed her the paper on which I had written the dimensions clearly and then pantomimed me on a swing. When I pointed to Colin, it was all over. She swung (hee hee) into action and called another man over. They scurried all over the wonderfully dusty place looking for the perfect piece. Which they found.

This woman was clearly in charge and made sure the man sanded the wood carefully.  She even went out on her moped to search for the correct drill bit. Long story short, it was a great success and we came into contact with great people. We so rarely move outside our expat circles and when we do, we are often richly rewarded. I'm still trying to find a reason to go back and buy more wood from them.