The last time I lived in a flat was when I was young. My perspective was different then, I was still a child and it was part of the new life my parents had taken me on. Being a pre-teen I was probably too wrapped up in my life to bother about what was going on around me unless it directly affected my image. The facilities in our new flat were better than boarding school and I had my own room with a door I could shut and a balcony I could escape to.
The flats I lived in during this period of my life were in Beirut and Tehran. They were built quickly and efficiently to last just a few years. Luckily ours were usually brand new so there was no fear of them collapsing as they neared their expiration date, we were long gone by then. My favourite flat was a penthouse in Iran. The massive patio on one side overlooked the pool and the ample balcony off the lounge had a fabaulous view of the pink mountains in the distance. I can’t remember their name but they changed colour throughout the day and with the seasons, something to do with the light I was told…I was such a ditz!.
Sound proofing must have been good in these efficiently constructed flats because my brother and I noticed, when we opened the rubbish shute between the floors, a sudden clamour of chattering and clanging assaulting our eardrums and then, once we’d thrown our rubbish down the smelly hole and clanged the shute door closed again…silence! I see a pattern emerging here…I’m still taking out the rubbish!
I don’t remember us ever being told to,
“Keep quiet!”
Either because we weren’t noisy or because it didn’t matter.
The blocks of flats we lived in were huge. We lived on the 20th floor of one and so the potential for noise with large families living together in their arab-ness was not something to be sniffed at; although for our olfactory pleasure there were plenty of odors to satisfy that sense. Raw garlic was a staple food, something I eat for my health today but when I was a child I found the fumes in an elevator, full of garlic munching locals, a tad too overwhelming so I became adept at holding my breath!
Today I am dwelling in a flat again. This time I am on the ground floor and the sound proofing leaves a lot to be desired. I am older and my life no longer depends on image, I am very interested in everything happening around me and miraculously my hearing is sharper! I can hear the hangers being moved aside in the closets next door which back on to my closets. I can hear the bathroom light cords being pulled upstairs in the flat which is laid out identically to mine. I can also hear heavy footsteps across my bedroom and lounge ceilings. In the kitchen all the residents who open onto the stairwell can delight in the mouth watering aroma of each other’s gourmet concoctions each evening. I can hear the clatter of cutlery on plates and am instantly transported back to the camping trip my parents took me on in Italy when I was all of five!
Yes, camping! Are our walls to be compared to canvas? In Beirut the concrete walls were too thick; I suspect to withstand bombings perhaps?
I’m not complaining at the moment though, whenever I hear the community noises of neighbours living, eating and talking around me I am “beamed up” to sun, sand and sea. A welcome change from rain, rain and rain!
Well hello there! My name is Vivienne McNeny.
I am an empty nester exploring life as a Boomer…you could say I'm happily Boomering along!
As a homeschooling Mum I have finally quit the job of role model and mentor to my four children. I do what I want to do, eat when I feel like it, enjoy life with my blue eyed cowboy and clean my house once a month or so whether it needs it or not!
In true English form I write about the emergence of my true identity now that I can no longer hide behind my children as their Mum.
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