Welcome To The Neighbourhood

Yesterday I moved into my new “home” for the next month. I left the hotel and made my way to the city centre by taxi having taken screenshots of several possible hotels nearby should the apartment, for some unexplained or catastrophic reason, fall through. But it didn’t; the agent was there waiting for me as arranged with the lease for me to sign and my keys in hand. She told me that some workers were installing some screens on the windows to lessen any exterior noise as this particular apartment looks onto the main thoroughfare outside the building and there’s a tram car line on it. I wasn’t especially concerned since, having lived next to an airport at one point in my life and a busy train station at another, an occasional tram passing by wasn’t going to ruin my quality of life. But, it was still nice of them to be organising it for me.

I agreed with the agent that I would just leave the behemoth that is my suitcase there and head off to find the nearest supermarket that she explained was a couple of blocks away. She told me they’d leave the air conditioning on to cool down the place for my return. I walked to the market – it’s not referred to as a “supermarket” here – and found myself at its doors five minutes later. Now, in my usual life, going grocery shopping is not one of the highlights of my week. Like most people, rushing to the supermarket usually happens after a long working day, when the zillion other members of society have also finished work and have decided that the local supermarket is THE place to be, and you’re shattered and trying to cram in the weekly food purchase before you need to run to get elsewhere. Long lines to pay, queues at the deli counter and a full formula one circuit of the outlet with a vehicle that refuses to turn when you command it and a manoeuvrability that brings to mind an attempt to walk through quicksand, make the whole experience feel like an expedition to Base Camp.

But, this whole mindset changes when I get to supermarkets and open markets in other parts of the world. I love meandering through the shop peering at products that I can’t find at home and, at times, trying to figure out what certain food stuffs actually are. This market did not disappoint, with aisles filled with items that I did recognise and many that I didn’t. I especially liked the glazes for barbecuing and an ice cream section that was so large I could honestly see the calories piling on my hips just by watching the selection. My favourite thing, which doesn’t exist at home but which I thought was an amazing idea, was a whole wall covered in dispensers that reminded me of those glass cylinders used to house jellybeans of every flavour with a “tap” style end which you open to serve yourself from. But, instead of jellybeans or other sweets, these dispensers were easily four times the size of the candy ones and filled with nuts, trail mixes, dried fruits, cereals, rice, pastas, mueslis and so on and you just mix up whatever combination you want. From dried cranberries and pineapple pieces to assorted mixed nuts combos. It was incredible and I succumbed and bought a huge bag of my own version of fruit and nut mix. Another mouthwatering feature were the counters with either readymade foods such as grilled pineapple or baked Cajun salmon steaks or the counter assembled with deep vats of gumbo and other local delicacies. There was also a counter dedicated to pizza where you pick your toppings and they make the pizza – fresh dough for the base – before you and you can either take it and bake it at home or they fire it for you while you shop in a wood fired oven! I mean, who cooks here with all these choices?

So, I became THAT shopper who has all the time in the world and is moving through the store at the slowest, most annoying, pace as she has nowhere else to be and nothing more pressing to do; precisely the customer that I hate when I’m doing my weekly shop at my local supermarket. When I’d finished I paid and had my shopping packed for me in brown paper bags. I walked back to the apartment and found it empty of workers.

I began unpacking my gadgets from my hand luggage bag: laptop, iPad, camera, lenses, all the cables in the world, chargers etc. I began to make myself at home and was about to tackle the suitcase when there was a knock on the door. My friendly agent, with a friend of her own, was on the other side and informed me that they’d realised while I was out that the air conditioning in my apartment did not work properly and that they were going to move me to an apartment down the hall. So, they helped me move what I’d unpacked, my suitcase and my shopping bags into apartment 206. When they left I unpacked everything, made myself a cup of tea and sat down, on my sofa, to admire my new home.

It is lovely and huge for a one bedroom apartment. I suspect it was originally a massive studio which has been cleverly converted into a one bedroom as these are going to be both more popular for corporate types (and they are who this company’s target market is) and they can charge more for a one bed than a studio, of course.

It must be near on seventy square metres with very high ceilings and one enormous bank of windows on its external wall. The floors are painted glossy black, the walls and shutters on the windows are white with neutral furnishings and touches of blue around the place. The kitchen and lounge are open plan with modern fixtures and fittings. But it’s the bedroom which is cleverly set out. If you think of a Japanese tea room with its wood and paper screens then you’re on the right track here. But instead of light and flimsy screens imagine a more industrial version with dark wood heavy beams and frame and an opaque corrugated type of material for the spaces between the frame. These “walls” slide on the suspended beams and section off the bedroom while letting in light both through the opaque material and the space between the top of the beams and the ceiling. It all comes together really well, giving the whole place a very light and airy feel as well as creating quite a zen-like space. I have to say it’s very me because I much prefer modern to traditional decor and I definitely don’t like too much in the way of furniture and clutter.

This place is a veritable palace compared to my Italian Matchbox. It is, in fact, Matchbox 3.0 with upgrade included. The building has its own fitness centre and hot tub, free wifi, a maintenance crew on site and parking space (had I wanted it). Location wise it also ticks every box since it is literally a straight line from my building’s front door to Bourbon Street with only a three minute walk between us. That plus the proximity of the supermarket, a fabulous looking deli/restaurant just across the road from me and the tram stop at the end of my pavement all make this a great find.

There’s only one thing missing in this place, Indiana reminded me while I drank my tea and watched the news: a hint of leopard print somewhere. I promised him I’d get to it right away.

E x