Showing posts with label our house. Show all posts
Showing posts with label our house. Show all posts


... how did that song go again?  This post has been building for a while.  I'm just not sure where to start - so I've decided to break it up into manageable chunks.  We start the story in an inner-city suburb of Riga, Latvia - a suburb which historically was a place of wooden manor houses.  Later, in the late 19th century, the area was built up with two-storey wooden apartment houses for the workers.  Today many of these houses remain - buildings right up along the side of the road, with large green communal courtyards, or backyards, behind them.  This is what our house had behind it when we bought it - a big yard shared by the inhabitants of three houses - nothing much else but dilapidated wood sheds, some grand old oak and maple trees, and some shabby lawn.  Oh, and the wooden table and benches in the middle where the daily piss-up would happen - in the summer, anyway.  You see, many of our neighbours - the people living in the other two houses - are ageing alcoholics down on their luck.  May not be polite to say it, but its the truth.  Our suburb is like what West End in Brisbane used to be before it was gentrified.  Or Footscray in Melbourne.  A bit, well...  scummy.  Huge potential.  But scummy nevertheless.
Not to worry, we thought, and whacked a huge fence up through the middle of the courtyard when we finally settled on the house - this was about 4 years ago.  Most of the ramshackle, built-by-uncle-Sergey-with-scrap-wood sheds were torn down, the piss-up table was removed, and we had our own backyard.  All 400 square metres of lawn, apple and cherry tree, acorns and dirt.  Of course, the neighbours were mildly annoyed - they were still left with some space, but a part of it was now inaccessible.  And I felt a little uneasy about bringing the first whiff of gentrification to our courtyard.  But we struggled on with the house, and after the building crews began to find all the rotten internal and external walls, our new back yard started turning into a timber yard.  We had a supply of rotting beams that kept on growing.  At one point we thought the pile of wood would be higher than the actual house.
Long story short (I'll leave some more detail for parts 2 and 3), but after the building work was completed and we moved in, the yard stayed as it was.  Bits of firewood and piles of 100 year old brick and building supplies and old beams stacked in piles.  The spring came and melted our beautiful blanket of snow, and there it all was in front of us.
Needless to say we have not yet gathered the stamina to order 10 huge mini skips to pile everything in.  That's one of the many jobs I see round the corner.
What we did do today though was start pulling down the last remaining wood shed, which was full of treasures from when we took over ownership of the house all those years ago.  The boys thought we were in junk-lovers heaven, and kept dodging rotten beams to dart in the shed and drag out finds.  An interesting thing about our house is that it has a commercial space which has been a hairdressers, a shoemakers and an op shop at various times in history.  In its last incarnation it was a second-hand store, and the cash registers, clothes racks (sans clothes, unfortunately) and scales (clothes were sold by weight!) were still left.  Not to mention the big "used clothing" sign above the door.  All of these treasures were in the shed today, besides a few more.  Everything filthy, musty and very "lived on" by alley cats.  Nothing a good scrub won't fix though...  if the 'treasures'don't go to the tip, that is!





This is my favourite - a wrought iron and brass bedstead.  This we found stashed in the attic after we bought the house - in the darkest corner.  Amazing that it was still there, considering how heavy it is and how most metal things get stolen and traded in as scrap metal around these parts.


A suitcase full of high-heel galoshes and old 1950s Russian sewing patterns.  Oooh la la!


 Selling clothes by weight with big old grocers scales - typical of the immediate post-soviet time in Riga. Another treasure we took home long ago was the shop's abacus - shop keepers would use the abacus back then to check if the cash registers were correct.  Go figure.


One of the cash registers still works - beeps and dings and the drawer opens when you hit the right button - awesome


So Tiss and Mik got all entrepeneurial and decided to take the "used clothes" sign out the front of the house and set up a stall, with some of dad's clothes from the dirty clothes basket.  They didn't sell anything, but one of the inebriated neighbours turned up at the end and they hot-tailed it back inside, dirty clothes and all...  


....and on my birthday yesterday, I was feeling old.  Happy - but way, way old.  Reason is, because WE MOVED ON THE WEEKEND!!  3.5 years after starting the house project we finally made the move.  Walls still need painting on floors one and two, lots and lots of finishing touches need to be made, there's boxes and bags and crap everywhere, but the main thing is - we are now living in our house!
Saturday was a marathon - the movers, two young strapping Latvian lads (we'll call them Brad and Keanu)  lugged furniture and boxes  down the five flights of stairs of our building, and into our new house for NINE HOURS.  Jem and I madly packed boxes in the meantime, and discovered 10 years of dust balls, lost birthday cards (complete with birthday spending money!) and other long forgotten treasures.  The kids watched nine hours of TV.  By the end of the day, I was more tired than I'd ever been, and Jem was having cluster asthma attacks.  But we were in the new house!
Yesterday we didn't stop to get boxes in order, or find kitchen utensils, or dust windowsills.  It was straight into party mode.  Bit hard to be a good hostess if you can't find your frilly apron, and your kitchen hasn't been installed yet, but I did my best.  The guests started by each washing a window or two, helping to put together a cupboard, followed by eating and merrymaking. 
So today was our first "normal" day in the house and it's feeling pretty good.  Lots of work to still do, but the move went well, and everyone seems relieved and that little bit excited to finally be living here.


Tiss - helping Brad and Keanu with the unpacking


Putting together our hall cupboard, a jugendstil number we bought years ago, when it was still affordable.  Its all held together by wooden pegs.


Part of the gang, loitering on the stairs (one of the things they've been told they're NOT ALLOWED to do)


My goddaughter Zīle cruising for avocado 



Our (gorgeous and just started walking!) godson Zigis 

 
Boys bedroom became a venue for a magic show, I am starting to feel the ache and the years are weighing heavily on my shoulders..


So, in January our house was near to being finished.  Still needed floorboards down, kitchens, bathrooms - not much in the grand scale of things.  I was totally sick of waiting and threatened everyone at home, that if we weren't moved in and having a huge combined 2-day housewarming party by the time I hit my birthday in mid-April, I would move out of home.  Forever.  Say goodbye to our old apartment, our new house, the family and take off by myself, with a jaunty backpack, a swag of lonely planet guides an eye for adventure, and definitely NO interest in architecture.
Everyone listened to my ultimatum and promptly forgot about it - heck, it was months away and we would surely be moved in by then!
Things were going fairly well through January and most of February.  Our two last-stop finisher builders from the country, Normunds and Juris, were living in the house and moving forward at a cracking pace, laying and oiling floorboards, hanging old doors, tiling away.  Then the water pipe leading into the house froze.  And there was no water.  Doesn't sound too bad at first - we transported big containers of water over for the builders to use in the mean time, spring was coming, we could unfreeze the pipe somehow, it would only be a couple of days.
The fairly small diameter metal pipe was located 1 metre under the ground.  Jem and the builders spent a good couple of days searching for the pipe - digging a long trench along the side of the house through frozen ground (note to self:  next time, mark the entry/exit points for pipes on the wall of the house!).   When they finally found it, they dug along the whole length of it in our back yard.  And then they heated it. We took the advice of hardware store experts, the internet and our plumber, and bought a special pipe-warming electrical cord.  It didn't work.  We poured boiling water on the pipe.  Didn't work. We bought a fan that blows non-stop hot air and blew air on the pipe for hours.  Still nothing.  We got a blow torch and blasted the pipe until it was hot to touch.  Nothing, nothing, nothing.  The frozen portion of the pipe was obviously not in our backyard - but in the neighbour's yard, under their nicely paved driveway.  "Oh well", everyone shrugged their shoulders, "just have to wait until it thaws, spring's around the corner".   By this time, our house was cold inside, because the water pressure in the heating system had fallen to zero.  The whole house was covered in gyrpoc dust and sawdust and building dust, with no water to clean it up.  The builders were getting well stinky, considering they had nothing to wash in.
So we waited for spring.  About a week ago the temperature climbed up to 10 degrees, and the piles of snow on the street began to melt fast. "This is it!" we thought.  By now the builders had finished their jobs and moved back home, for those eagerly awaited showers and flushable toilets.  We had a finished house with no water, heating or sewerage.  Every day in the last week I drove over to the house and hopefully turned on the tap, waiting for that bubbling and hiss of water joyfully rushing out to meet me.  But it's been useless.  Zip. Zero. Nada.  Not a drop.
We were all out of ideas and wondering when the pipe would unfreeze, when there was a horrible moment of realization - it's my birthday next weekend.  I wondered out loud where our backpacks were - you know, the ones from when we were young and free, travelling sans kids, houses, pipes or any other responsibilities.  Jem took a deep breath, and opened up Google.
This morning saw him meeting a couple of guy who he had found on the internet:  "we unfreeze any pipe, anywhere, anytime".  We were both deeply dubious about their claim, as we had pretty much tried anything the experts could suggest, short of digging up the neighbour's paving and replacing the entire pipe.  Jem watched all morning as the guys tried to blast the ice through the pipe with the help of a pressurized air tank.  No movement at all.  Things were looking depressing. Then they called in the big guns.  Their mate from the other side of town, who had a dodgy-box electrical contraption with wires and fuses and alligator clips.  They clipped the machine to the pipe, plugged it into the wall, and electrified the pipe.  Gave that that ice plug an electrical shock of 240 volts for a couple of minutes.  And who would have thought it - it worked.  A stream of water welcomed Jem when he turned on the tap.  Amazing!!!
 So now it's full steam ahead.  We've got to clean all the dust out with copious amounts of water.  Pack up this place, and get OUT of here - so that on my birthday I can wake up for the first time in my new house.   Jem's never been a man for wooing me on his knees with bunches of flowers.  But the guy knows when things get desperate - an internet search for some guys in leather jackets and home-made electrical gear will do the trick. Couldn't think of a better early birthday present!



...we're almost there!  After so long struggling with this house project we are close to moving in (and our bank balance is close to being empty!).  The size and the scale of this, our "first home" renovation, has run us off our feet.  We do nothing else except for eat, breathe and sleep this house.  Oh, and between breaths go to work and keep the kids fed.  The scale of the project has been the most difficult - because instead of buying and renovating a small family home, we have been working on a house which has our home in it, two "granny" flats and a larger apartment for rental.    So, instead of going to the hardware to agonize of which one tap I will have for my bathroom, we go to the shop and buy 7 bathroom taps.  And 4 kitchen stoves.  And 22 door handles.  And 50 light fittings!  The boys have been traumatised by our neverending trips to Depo (Latvia's Bunnings), and no amount of playstation DS while waiting for us to make our selections is consolation enough.  We are all losing stamina, but still pushing through, encouraging ourselves with the thought that we are moving in soon. Estimated time of move is early April!  So instead of complaining about all of the compromises we have made in regards to the house (which is what I normally do!), here's a sneak preview of a couple of things I am happy about:


Old doors!  Our wonderful two workmen took pity on me and agreed to mount old doors in our downstairs corridor - a much harder job than putting in new, standard size, perfectly straight ones... Also the brick entry, which is made of bricks salvaged from the historic Kuznecov porcelain factory.  


Old door handles!  Jem went out and braved the biggest, baddest Latvian junk market to find some fabulous (in need of a bit of TLC) door handles to install in our old doors.  Locking the door when going to the loo will be an exotic experience on account of the big heavy iron key you have to turn.


Oak floor boards!  Yay!  I've only ever lived with pine boards, and jumped at the chance to put in these oak boards - off cuts from a sawmill - best thing about them is that we have OILED them, instead of putting on estapol, so the grain has come up and they are matt and smell like linseed oil.  The double doors  are also going to be stripped and restored.


Alternate tread stairs - salvaged from a farm building and fashioned/refurbished by Jem.  Steep, but the only option for the small amount of space available for the upwards climb.


Mum was over the other day for a sticky beak.  Choosing stuff for her and dad's apartment. Looks like someone said something funny!


Our apartment has become a more important place since we've had kids - a space that is practically the entire world for the little people who live in it. Since we are about to move house, I've been evaluating  this art deco, not-renovated-since-the-late-soviet-period apartment, and what it will mean for the boys to leave it. I've come to appreciate the world of play that children create: their  tendency to re-label what is around them, giving special meaning to certain places around the house and making up kid legends about them.

Over the years Matiss and Mikus have woven a tale that spreads over the entire apartment.  They call their game "Toyworld" (imaginative name?  Methinks not), of which all their toys are inhabitants (obviously).  All of the rugs on the floor constitute the earth.  The spaces of brown Soviet lino between the rugs are sea, on which friendly and not-so-friendly pirates roam (as they do).  The king of Toyworld is a meerkat  called Toby which is Tiss' oldest and dearest stuffed toy.  There is a neighbouring world, called "Puffy world", which is confined to our bed with its big fluffy duna (naturally).  The king of Puffy world is King Coco, who is an anonymous Lego man.  I have no idea what features of this Lego man make him King Coco, but the boys can tell him apart from the others.  He goes missing for weeks at a time.  "Here's King Coco!" I yell, when opening a cupboard under the bookshelf and finding a Lego man with a crown and armour on.  "Mum, THAT'S not King Coco", they complain in disgust.  Previous versions of Toyworld have been destroyed by various natural disasters , including a monster tornado, and the most evil of bad guys, "Sticky man", who also goes missing for weeks at a time and then appears to wreak havoc on the unsuspecting Toy world inhabitants.

It's weird which toys get a special place in the games - not necessarily the newest and coolest ones.  For example, out of the many matchbox cars, the most legendary is "Bananery" (photo above), a battered yellow sportscar which is one of my old matchbox cars from the 1970s.  I have trouble keeping up with developments in Toyworld, and occasionally have to fill in Jem when he gets home from work, or am surprised to find a pile of yellow lego bricks (Toyworld gold) in an unexpected corner of the bathroom - obviously the scene of some deal or treasure trove or robbery.

I can't help wonder how Toyworld will transpose to our new house.  The boys have expressed concern about this, although lately they have been adding certain features of the house  to the story.  Today I was happy to see them playing with the dimmer switches in the kitchen when we visited the house - great excitement there because now Toyworld could experience sunrise, daylight, then dimming into twilight.  There was also a sigh of relief when they found out there would be carpet in their bedroom, and it would be blue-ish.  Dunno why, but obviously fits some important Toyworld criteria.

So Toyworld - and our real world - is about to undergo a big change. I'm sure the new house will be quickly assimilated into a new version of their play-scape.  We'll have to wait and see how.


Couldn't resist putting up this pic of the kid's Latvian "happy meals" today -  bees made from mashed potato and meat patties from our favourite Latvian restaraunt Lido... gotta love those decorative tomato sauce feet and feelers...  They are preserved strawberries swimming in the glasses of strawberry juice.  "Taste like rat's brains" was Tiss' comment.

We took a week off work to paint our house last week. I always thought we'd paint the interior a shade of white. Classic. And with all the artwork we've got, it would be a simple backdrop to all of those works we have stashed behind cupboards, because there's not enough room in our flat to hang them all. Although I enjoy coloured "feature walls" in other people's houses, they always seem to scream "LATE 1990S!!!" at me from across the room, so decided that we could do without them. Stay with the white. Simple, versatile, understated.
But heck, I'm not exactly sure what happened, but my plans for classic style went out the window within the first day. Maybe its because of the metres of snow all around, and we're all kinda sick of white around here. Perhaps it was a reaction to the fact that the boys, when asked, wanted to paint the different walls in their rooms each a different colour. In order to garner a truce, we decided the boys rooms could have one coloured walls each, and proceeded to choose colours based on complimenting flooring choices (carpets, which haven't yet been installed). Hey, they were the kids' rooms anyway, I wouldn't have to live with banana yellow and powder blue anyhow! (ok, ok, to be fair, they could probably more aptly named "sunflower yellow" and "ocean on an overcast day blue" - whatever). And then suddenly, before I knew it, the coloured feature walls were taking over the third floor... and I was there with a roller, painting MY OWN bedroom wall a colour which can only be described as "elephant-poo green". Jem talked me into it, and although at the time I supported the decision with a "marriage is about compromise" mantra, I'm not entirely sure it was a wise decision. Jem keeps telling me the colour should really be called "pistachio", or "olive". It's a grown-up colour, he comforts me. Hmmmm....

To be fair, though, the colour was chosen as a unifying backdrop for a collection of vintage greek and turkish rugs that I inherited from a very dear friend of my parents - a bachelor, and an avid traveller and collector, who knew just the person who would value and love such a collection. Surprisingly, the colour that seemed to be in common for all of these rugs was the green on our bedroom wall. So I think it will all eventually be ok - when I trot out the changing exhibition of rugs, you won't see the elephant poo for the beauty it is meant to frame and enhance. Or that's the theory, anyway!


The other two rooms turned out great, by the way. Fun and colourful, and the kids seem more than happy with the prospect of living in these two rooms. So far, so good. Only downside is that it took us a whole week to finish up the third floor. Only two more floors to go!



So we aren't going to be in our new house by Christmas. Things were moving a a cracking pace until most of the gyproc and structual work was finished, then about 10 or 12 of the workmen moved onto other houses, leaving one erstwhile builder to finish the first floor. We have been waiting for the last month for him to finish the "dirty jobs" -sanding plasterboard etc - before we bring in new handymen to finish up the inside work. All we have left is the wooden floors, doors, painting, tiling. You know, all the important stuff! In the meantime we have been interested to see if our woodfire heating system can cope with temperatures of minus fifteen and lots of snow. So far, after the inevitable teething troubles, things seem to be going well. I am finally getting impatient, because we are so near, and yet so far, to moving in.
Although we have gradually come to terms with the fact that our old wooden house is now a brand new plasterboard box, we are still trying to incorporate old details where possible. Many rooms have "feature walls" where we have left old wooden or brick walls exposed. Above is a photo taken yesterday when we found a beautiful old wooden door complete with wooden handle discarded by the dumpster behind our house. We managed to load it into the car and take it to the house for installation, a small feat in door and child stacking (can you see Mikus in the photo?).
Here are some photos from the last month of work.


Upstairs bedroom

First floor granny flat

Kitchen with a view to the back yard


Loung room with electrician

3rd floor stairwell

My beloved staircase - discussing the finish

Our house is moving along nicely. We've had a complete change of work crew for the interior work and it really does look like we will be in by Christmas. So much so, that I have begun to imagine actually moving in and LIVING in the area. Our suburb, Āgenskalns, is a wonderful suburb just over the river from the old town - a challenging mix of the most gritty Riga life, and the most interesting and charming. It is an eclectic blend of 100 year old stately wooden homes, set back from the street in beautiful gardens with old trees - many of which have now been gentrified; plain old wooden "boarding houses", which contain many small one room apartments that were built to house workers in the early 20th century; and multi-storey concrete monstrosities, locally called "hruschovskas". Many of the smaller streets have simple names like "Bee Street", "Flower Street", "Bell Street", "Pigeon Street", and they wind haphazardly around with no sense of planning. Some of them are still dirt.
The centre of Āgenskalns is a striking old red brick market hall, which hums with food traders and second-hand clothes stalls most days of the week. A tram line rumbles through the heart of the suburb, and it is not unusual for strangers to stop and talk to you on the street. Some of the richest, and also some of the most downtrodden people call Āgenskalns home.
On Saturday, before driving down to the country, we stopped in at our new place to check out our new front door and then did a stroll around the block, to get acquainted with the neighbourhood, eat some ice-cream and take in some autumn colour. We started here...










Things are moving. Slowly, slowly, but surely. The builders keep telling me that if they can just get a few more boys on the job, we could be moving in by autumn... personally I think Christmas is a more likely scenario, but, whatever. Come 2011 I may be almost properly equipped to take on visitors from Australia!

At first these photos seemed very macho and technical, but I'm starting to get an appreciation for the Jeffrey Smart-esque lines and placement of certain items, and the colours. Jeremy's been photographing every time we go to the house, and we have a growing folder documenting the progress of the building work.









Category

  • (20)
  • (67)
  • (9)
  • (1)
  • our house (13)
  • (11)
  • (45)
  • (19)

Followers