The postcode here says I'm in England, but the house is straight out of "Star Trek." Yes, I'm on another home exchange, and as usual there are rather...remarkable...features. What would one of these residential adventures be without oddments of some description? After all, if I wanted to replicate what I have in Charlotte, why would I ever leave home to begin with?
Don't get me wrong: It's an extremely nice four bedroom, three-and-a-half bath house, built only two years ago. In contrast to the monastic-like cell in which I stayed last summer, that Welsh flat, this place is downright plush. Its owners, my exchangers, are a retired engineer who loves guy stuff and everything state-of-the-art, and his wife, a retired nurse. If anything, it's the exact opposite of the Spartan digs in Cardiff with the minimalist furnishings, the kitchen equipped with nothing but a dull paring knife, the bathroom with no soap and only one towel...I could go on and on. I did not grieve when I closed the door on that sad little place for the last time.
Arriving here on Thursday, I felt like I had stepped into the 23rd Century, albeit in East Anglia. For the geographically challenged, that's the county of Norfolk northeast of London. My tiny village is between Diss and Norwich. Being flat and bordering the North Sea, this area was the site of lots of American Army air bases during WWII. Now it's still rural with farms and windmills alike dotting the lush countryside.
Back to my current exchange house. The large solar panels on the roof should have given me a clue about what I was in for, and my exchange partners did duly warn me it was a modern house. Indeed, it's an homage to ecology and the environment. Every measure has been taken to conserve energy -- and to drive guests crazy! As most of you know, I don't have a technological bone in my body, and let me just tell you, trying to figure out space-age appliances just about sends me over the edge.
For instance, the stove: It's an invection thing, or maybe it's induction? Conviction? Convection? Whatever. The manual runs over 50pp, and is written in a variety of languages, including Greek. I am not kidding. Greek. Once I read that the operation of this stove by anyone with a pacemaker could result in death, I lost my appetite.
OK, I've still got the microwave, right? Er, which one of these things mounted on the wall is the microwave? You know you've gotten old when you cannot even suss out which appliance is the microwave, let alone how to operate it! Mine at home is either On or it's Off. Punch two buttons and you're in business. Not here. Oh, no. There are so many buttons it looks like a Boeing cockpit. Hauled out the manual. After 17 steps, I gave up. Ate cereal.
The next night, after a good night's sleep and with my American resolve in overdrive, I approached the oven. Thought a nice ready-to-eat chicken-and-mushroom pie would be just the thing. Surely the oven is easier and more straightforward...HA HA HA HA. Ate cereal.
The TV set-up is somewhat more straightforward: There have been only six remote controls to master (I'm not lying here) and an entire closet devoted to its satellite wizardry. Nevertheless, I'm proud to report that I've been able to find my brilliant Alibi, ITV and Drama channels for a proper fix of mysteries. And I've just about gotten used to the motion sensors on the lights in the bathroom, the water-heating system that shuts off after 8:30 a.m. (yielding tepid water for my late-night showers) and the curious absence of a clothes dryer. They're putting a man on the moon, metaphorically speaking, in the kitchen and they didn't bother installing a clothes dryer in the utility room??! These challenges are offset, on the other hand, by the icemaker that dispenses crushed ice -- unheard of over here -- the boiling-water tap for tea and the room-to-room climate control that keeps the house at a steady 72 degrees.
And my exchangers' car is a dream: Automatic transmission PLUS air-conditioning!! Over-the-top comfortable. It's a Russian make, I think. Of course, it has many technie features. I'm touching none of 'em.
It's too bad I inherited my mother's pear-like frame instead of my daddy's keen intellect regarding machines and technology. He'd have a field day in this place. Me, I'm either going to get into the groove of this household or go barking mad. I've got three more weeks here before I move on to the next exchange. Don't count me out yet. But tonight I'm dining on cereal.
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