This is somewhat embarrassing, isn’t it?

We are packing up all our stuff, not to leave, but to move. Crazy that right at the end of the school year we are moving the school to a new building and will finish the year there! We are also moving from our apartment to apartments in the new school, so I am starting my goodbyes early. Goodbye old School. Goodbye old Apartment.

As I was packing up my things I was thinking of some of the things that have happened in this apartment…we did a lot of school work here, but I also have some fun memories with roommates and I thought I would share just one with you all.

There are three keys, that we are aware of, that go to our apartment. The landlady has one, and the other two are carried by two of the three of us. So there is always someone who does not have a key, and we borrow from each other, of course. This is not convenient, nor does it aid to an aura of responsibility. You would think three, normally responsible girls could make this key situation work…but alas all three of us tend to think someone else has the keys and our keys get locked in the house.

A couple months back, the three of us walked out the door and I said “Do we have the key?” as I shut the door. We did not. But on a Friday morning, figuring out how to get into our locked apartment comes after getting to school on time to be prepared to teach on our priority list, so we went to school and put the key situation on hold. Because I was primarily responsible for getting us locked out of the apartment, it really was primarily my responsibility to get us back in. Unfortunately, this particular weekend Dini and Klementina had gone away for their anniversary so we could not use their expertise; specifically their skills of speaking the Albanian language, knowing the name or our landlady, and how to contact her. Also, we could not seem to reach them by phone.

This put us into quite the predicament. These were our unappealing options: sleep at the school all weekend until they got back, try and break into our own house that happens to be on the fifth floor, or somehow find our landlady.

After very little debate the third option seemed most appealing so we devised a plan of action. it went like this:

1) Get a Albanian staff member at the school to write us a note in Albanian detailing our situation

2) Knock on our neighbors’ doors and hold up the sign and pray that THEY know their landlady’s name and contact information

3) Get someone to help us call her so she could come help us get in.

The Results:

Step One

My guess at what it says is, “Excuse me, we locked ourselves out of our house. Do you know our landlady? Do you have her phone number?”

OR (according to google translate), “Sorry, did you know as home owners called where we live? Can you give us the total of number of telephone if you?”

Yes, sad that I need to use google translate at this point, especially because it can only get you so far…

Step Two

This was quite embarrassing and also an epic fail! All of our neighbors were not home (or did not answer the door) except one, who gave us a confused look and shut the door.

…so we had to figure out a PLAN B

Plan B

This consisted of going around the corner and asking businesses if they were aware of our Landlady’s name and number. And while this may seem far fetched, we live in such a small town kind of atmosphere that we actually ended up in a store owned by the sister of our landlady. So Plan B was quite successful!

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