Fire, Fire, Pan on Fire!

Monday 14th May; 9:20pm as the sun about to set

Sadia, hubby and I were twirling to The Blue Danube as wont tonight, a successful method we've been using to tire Sadia out for her slumber, when the fire alarm went off. At first, we had thought it solely affected our apartment. But as I checked out the hallway, the sound was even louder. In fact, the deafening sound of the alarm was too much to bear that I quickly gathered Sadia's and my jackets and Spring tote bag and hurtled down the spiralling staircase. My husband caught up with us later for he had to change from his kain pelekat, check our stove and take our most valuable possession - the passports.

Most of the tenants of this old University-run apartment complex came out the front door and congregated there. Others chose to stay inside and braved the earsplitting noise. Else, they took shelter at the backyard where a small garden and bicycle shed are located. My family were one of the majority who opted for the front entrance. We inquired as to whom made the call to the University emergency unit and speculated the reason for raising the alarm. One Australian visiting lecturer already made the call but apart from that, noone knew what caused the trigger.

Due to the alarming sound and Sadia's growing apprehension, we elected to remove ourselves from the ruckus by buying desserts. Amusingly enough, before we waltzed to Johann Strauss' masterpiece, my husband had entertained the idea of getting Walls' (or Ola as it is called in The Netherlands) latest Magnum creation - Ecuador Dark at one of the few sundry shops that close late, Turkish-owned 'Deniz'. How psychic of him!

We walked briskly to Deniz - about 5 minutes away - since a few droplets began caressing our faces and heads. Poor Sadia! She was, in a manner of speaking, shell-shocked by the high decibel intrusion and gripped tightly to one of my shoulders. At first, she refused to let go off me as we left for Deniz but hubby managed to coax her to submission. At the shop, she was feeling better after we planted kisses on her forehead. :)

Prompted by the strong prospect of heavier precipitation, we made a quick purchase and scuttled home. By the time we reached the apartment's entrance however, the group of people was still camping outside amid the cacophonic shrill. And the elements were not cooperating with us either. Heavy rain continued apace.

Thankfully, three girls from the sorority house across the canal approached us as we neared the apartment building and offered shelter inside their homely compound. This was after the others rejected their generous proposition. Since we have a toddler in tow, we were more than happy to accept. Away from the wailing alarm and cold, wet outdoors.

The decor of the communal den was quirky and vibrant at best. As expected, paraphernalia of the collegiate kind (read: popstar and psychedelic posters and arts) adorned the living room. Even the fridge's exterior is reminiscent of college mentality - a tacked-on A4 paper with all the occupants' name and the number of 'Bier and Fris' (Beer and Carbonated Drinks) each had taken.

Some other girls already occupied places on one of two sofas and at the dining table. We settled to the other empty sofa which faces the tv and fireplace. They asked us if we would like anything to drink and I inquired if they have water. After exchanging the usual civilities, they strangely enough left us to our own devices. Restless and uncomfortable by the unfamiliar environment, we stood close to the window vigilantly on the lookout for any new development across the canal.

From where we stood, one university personnel rushed to the apartment from his parked van and hastily entered the ground floor storage room to disarm the alarm. We thanked the nubile ladies profusely, borrowed an umbrella from a blonde lass named Marita, and headed home.

Inside the lobby, our nextdoor neighbour informed us the cause which triggered the alarm. Apparently, the old chap tenanting one of two apartments on the ground floor cooked something on the stove and set off the high-pitched racket. The neighbour quoted him as saying 'Only little smoke' and automatically raised an eyebrow in disbelief that only wisps of smoke were involved! We reckon it must be his first attempt at cooking! No wonder he was furiously talking on the phone inside the comforts of his apartment which we took a gander at. I must thank those gauzy curtains and ample lighting reflected back on us outside the building.

It would have been nicer if the tenant fessed up to his 'crime' earlier than isolating himself from our deadly stare. Such an ungentlemanly conduct. I mean, at least take accountability and then offer your hapless neighbours to sit it out in your spacious apartment where the alarm is less of a shriek. Well, at least, we got to see our neighbours whose faces previously remain a mystery. If it were not for the nametags attached to the side of respective apartment doors, we wouldn't have any inkling as to their nationality and how many they number.

My ears still throbbed two hours after the extra-auditory torture was over. So were my husband's. I hope Sadia fared better than us. She gulped four grapes before bedtime and is now sleeping soundly, within my (temporarily impaired) earshot. I also wonder if that guy's ears are burning (pun intended) from all the hissing he is getting from the rest of the boarders.

(written close to midnight, Monday 14th May)