Dutch Comcast and Coming Home
We moved into our new apartment about 4 weeks ago. And for about 4 weeks, we lived sad, mid-century lives without internet. Luke was able to go to work, while I was forced to watch Call the Midwife ON MY PHONE. It was miserable. As I mentioned in my last post, most things take longer to accomplish here. This experience was certainly no exception, and on an entirely new level.
Let me tell you little a story about the Dutch version of Comcast, Ziggo. This is one of the main providers in the Netherlands, our building was already wired for it and, more importantly, we were promised free HBO, so obviously it was the best option for us. We purchased the package on Sunday, and on Monday we received confirmation that it was now activated and able to be set up. After about 3 hours, I gave up and called Ziggo customer service to find out why it wasn’t working. I random buttoned my way through the Dutch automated message and eventually got to a representative after being on hold for an hour. She asked a series of questions in Dutch then hung up on me. Cue: bottle of wine.
On Tuesday, I tried to reach someone again. I scrolled the website on my phone and, by the grace of God, a “Chat” icon appeared out of nowhere. I’m positive I willed it into existence. Anyway, I was able to set up an appointment with a technician the following day. He comes. Claims our builders ruined the connection when they renovated and he needs access to a cable in the wall. Our maintenance man comes, shows me the cable he is positive the technician needs. Technician comes back the following day. “No”, he says. “I already saw this. I need to get into the wall.” I call the maintenance man. He says we need the electrician to come because he is the only one who knows where said mystery cable is. But…he’s on holiday until the following week. Naturally.
Do you need a glass of wine yet?
Electrician and Ziggo technician meet and have long arguments in Dutch. Electrician drills holes in the wall and baseboard while technician works on the cable box outside. They continue to yell at each other through the window. Neighbors walk past as if this happens every day. I’m convinced it does. Hours pass, I pretend to understand what they’re saying and drink approximately 10 coffees. Finally, I am told we need to schedule some sort of Ziggo specialist to come. But this time they need access to my neighbors apartment.
Thankfully, we have met our neighbors and they are truly the best. Our neighbor on the 2nd floor lent us her power tools so we could put furniture together, and our neighbor just below us on the 3rd floor invited us into his apartment (almost immediately after meeting) for Dutch beers and cheeses he just brought back from his trip to France. We love them. Hopefully they still like us after this fiasco. Unlikely.
Our 3rd floor neighbor kindly gave us his key so the specialist could enter his apartment once we were able to schedule him…the following week. Specialist comes. Tears cables out of our poor neighbor’s wall. Drills more holes in ceilings and floors. Forms new cable connections. Gets really sweaty. Throws sweat rag on our bed. Takes smoke break. (We clean the mess in our neighbor’s apartment.) Fixes connection. Celebrates. Cries inside. There is now a new problem, but it is coming from the 2nd floor neighbor’s apartment. She isn’t home, so we must schedule a new appointment…for the following week.
This neighbor is home while the specialist comes, so it’s slightly less intrusive. After 4 hours of running up and down the stairs to access all of our apartments, drilling more holes, replacing more cables, sweating on furniture, creating piles of ceiling onto the floor but cleaning up after himself this time, he is finished. He did it. IT’S OVER. WE HAVE WIFI. He leaves. Try to turn on cable. Doesn’t work. So, we schedule an appointment…for the following week. At least now I can watch Call the Midwife apply for jobs on my laptop.
Thankfully, in the middle of all of this crazy, we were able to fly to Oregon for Luke’s brother, Jimi’s, wedding. It was rushed and tiring, but beautiful and so refreshing for our souls. Spending time with family and welcoming a new sister into the mix was wonderful and filled with a whole lot of love. What made it even more special was a moment we had getting on the airplane to fly back to Amsterdam. We felt like we were headed home. And that’s what it is now. We’re home.
Here are some pictures of the wedding to help us all forget this story:
