Finished: The ugly cable is gonzo.
Mr. Friendly Contractor (FC) and his horde came to do some work. Like most people in China, he wasn’t on time. He dropped off a worker, some bags of bricks and mortar, then promptly disappeared. I think there may be an international contractor school, just as there is one for used car salesmen, real estate agents, and strip club DJs.
Other than the water-soaked cupboards, rotted plaster and dirty kitchen, there are a few other anomalies at Chateau DIY. Let’s talk Chinese air conditioners.
In my 5 years in China I have seen one “western” air conditioner – a single window-banger in half-a-decade. Chinese air conditioners fall into two categories: 1) the one’s mounted on a wall; 2) the tall free-standing units (like a fridge). Both of these types are connected by large tape-wrapped cables to compressors that hang from the exterior walls of apartments. Compressor repairs are a frightful experience. A man in a harness, attached to a rope, dangles out a window, tools in hand.
Chateau DIY has three AC units (of the first type), one in each bedroom. The compressor cable in the master bedroom hung down the wall and snaked through a hole near the baseboard. The cable was ugly. The former tenants, people I loath and hope never to meet, had covered this eyesore with a bad paint job, then with pieces of printer paper – taped to the wall. In Baby DIYr’s room there was a hole on the wall, large intentionally built for the AC. No Chinese AC units would fit in the hole: It was too narrow and too tall. The hole had been covered by a ratty piece of plywood.
Enter Mr. FC and his zany crew. I wanted a hole drilled in the master bedroom wall, so the cable would be hidden behind the AC unit, and the mystery hole in Baby’s room covered up with something other than plywood.
The big hole in the wall in Baby DIYr's room.
FC left. His assistant pulled down the plywood, mixed mortar and got his bricks ready. The AC techs arrived and pulled the master bedroom AC unit off the wall.
It wasn’t long before an exchange between the AC techs and Mrs. DIYr started.
“The cable is old and broken,” she explained to me, “It needs to be replaced.”
They must have gone to international mechanics school. I agreed to pay ($5 US).
There was nothing further I could do that day. My plaster was drying and I didn’t have the proper chemicals (or a HazMat suit) to clean one of the bathrooms. I sat on the balcony, pulled up my hood, and listened to my iPod.
The AC techs had finished doing whatever they were doing and watched the brick layer was trying to puzzle together how to best brick up the giant hole. They smoked and offered advice. Two men watching one: A lot like a government road repair crew in Canada.
“Shouldn’t they be doing something?” I asked Mrs. DIYr.
The old AC cable hole. You don't have to be Kreskin to see plastering in the future.
She spoke to the relaxing AC men. They were waiting for The Drill. The company only had one, and it was somewhere else. I was glad to be paying a flat fee, not by the hour.
Two more men appeared with a large sack. The Drill looked like a weapon from a Sci-Fi movie – huge, menacing, with a shoulder stock and an over-sized trigger. The drill bit was giant, as large as my forearm.
The driller climbed a ladder and started to bore a new 2 inch hole through 10 inches of brick and concrete. I observed for a while, got bored and decided to watch from the outside. I was still bored and traced the water lines from my apartment to the central junction: A future project.
The hole was drilled, the AC unit remounted, and the techs left without cleaning up the giant pile of discarded tape and cable pieces. The bricklayer went back to work, he had finished watching the drilling action.
It was getting dark and I was hungry. FC reappeared briefly and then hurried off. We gave Mr. Brick a set of keys and departed.
Two repairs – total cost – 300 RMB ($44 US).
