We found it easy to get over the constant noises. We were very happy to have found a hotel near the center of the city, with large, clean rooms and almost luxurious furniture. But the next day after we checked in, we could hear the first noises in the other rooms. And then we discovered that the water wasn’t running. Some men entered Petrut’s room and worked hard to change some pipes. We had no water the entire day until we left the hotel. We began questioning the hotel managers and their answer was straight to the point: we got a discount.
After the third day of scheduled water, they sent us a fruit basket in the room. The receptionist was running out of excuses. They offered us a day for free. Nevertheless: after the water, or the lack thereof, there was a power outage. Shortly after it produced a flame at Petrut’s notebook charger. Old news, it was a reminder of our childhood in a block of flats. We were instinctively searching for some cases for water supplies. We had a flashlight, we only needed candles.
Officially, every day is the last day of work. After a week we asked the receptionists if they plan on doing the check-out: all the things from the reception were packed in boxes. I looked at the ceiling and there it was: a gap the size of the Black Sea and the water dripping. Later that evening, Allah listened to our prayers and provided us with water. I heard a clap in the bathroom and from the middle of the ceiling a runnel gleefully began to pour.