My apartment has everything you need. I have a washing machine, fridge-freezer and running water. I have a hob, microwave and boiler. I even have electricity. In reality I may have a little too much electricity as surges of power destroy my appliances. See the day my phone charger went kaput for more. My apartment is in a nice, well kept building with a reliable and helpful landlord. My apartment is in a nice part of town, the neighbourhood is fairly traditional with friendly locals adjourning the streets. It appears that all is well and it truly is.
As well as being home, my apartment and its surroundings are the best source of entertainment I have ever experienced. Merely looking out of the window plants a smile on my face, developing into a chuckle and often a howl of a laugh. I still haven’t worked out the madness that is going on around me.
Somedays there is seaweed drying out in the road. Each time a car comes by, which is at least every minute if not more a group of older ladies run out and move the seaweed until the car has passed and then lay the seaweed out again. Painstaking and captivating to watch. Other days I come home to find the men red faced and drunk while their female counterparts prepare vegetables for hours on end. Then there is the vegetable filled pick up truck that drives around with the loudest sales pitch blaring out of a speaker. It is worst at 7am on a Saturday morning. The most puzzling neighbourhood occurence in my opinion is the regular meetings that are held on the street corner. A gazebo appears, loudspeakers are installed and people come from all nooks and crannies to gather like sardines. They put the world to rights under that tiny canvas. I have no idea what is being said but it is well worth looking in.
The comedy value of people watching in my neighbourhood is that high that I would not dream of living anywhere else. It is priceless. And I haven’t even scratched the surface.