The Water Tank

Um, we reported in a previous blog that our casa does not have a water tank for those (frequent) times when the water to the city is turned off and you need a backup. It turns out that we do have a water tank. Discovering the tank is a pretty funny story.

The Widowmaker

First, let me tell you about the widowmaker. Since none of the bathrooms have hot water, we got our friend G to recommend a handyman (N) who went with Astrid to buy an electric heater. N screwed it onto the shower head and connected it to the three wires coming out of the wall near the shower head (we had wondered what those were for). He gave us careful instructions on how to use it. The careful instructions were necessary because it is quite dangerous if used improperly.

The water is heated by a heating element, using the same design as a toaster. You must turn it on only when there is sufficient water pressure, because if the element is heated but there is no water passing through, the element will burn out and could cause a fire. I saw this in action when N demonstrated how the electric heater worked. He unscrewed it to show me the inside of it, plugged two wires into the two plugs of an outlet, and the third wire into the ground. He then “turned it on” by simulating what happens when the water runs through it. The pressure of the water lifts mechanism that causes the electrical connectors to touch, and the electricity then flows, heating the element. Except of course there was no water flowing through the element. The whole thing popped like a firecracker and burnt out. Back to the store for another.

Widow and Widowmaker

Later that week we found out that the popular name for the electric heater is “widowmaker.” If it is set up incorrectly or there is a short, the electricity comes into contact with the water and the electricity cascades down on the person taking the shower, causing electrocution. For the Halloween party on Saturday, we didn’t have costumes so Astrid dressed up all in black, with dark shades and I wore the burned-out widowmaker on my shirt.

The Hamper Encounter

Perhaps tmi, but sometimes we walk around “sin ropas” in the house. This morning I was doing just that. Our living space starts on the second floor, but I need to walk down to the ground floor to check the circuit breakers. I scurried down the steps quickly, planning to close the two front doors so no one could see me naked. (We leave the gates locked at night with the doors open.) There were just a few seconds of risk. I made it without incident, shutting the doors but not closing them securely, then went into the laundry room to check the breakers. There was a knock on the door. It was G, coming to explain why we were being charged an extra $20 a month for TV cable when we didn’t want it and had already paid Claro to install the internet cable (long story). When he knocked, he pushed the door open to yell inside.

There I was, in flagrante delicto, around the corner in the laundry room. I yelled “un momento” and hurriedly searched through the laundry bag. Finding some old smelly clothes, I quickly put them on. He knocked again and I “un momento’ed” again and finally came out. We talked through the gate and I fixed my collar, which was not turned over properly. He told me we did indeed have a water tank, and pointed to where it was, up two flights in the closet to our bedroom. We just needed to find the turn-on valve. I told him we couldn’t look for it now, as Astrid was sleeping. He seemed to wonder why she was sleeping so late and why I wasn’t letting him through the doorway. And why it had taken me so long to come out of the laundry room.

The Water Tank

Scena de la Crima

When G left and Astrid woke up, I told her about the Hamper Encounter. She got a kick out of it. Because of the way her mind works, she imagined the event from G’s perspective, complete with licentious shenanigans with two bodies romping sin ropas in the hamper. I guess you had to be there, or at least have the right imagination.

We searched for the water tank but couldn’t find it. When J the pool mechanic came, he marched upstairs and into the closet and pointed to the ceiling above the shelves. He brought up a ladder and we both climbed up and into a small enclosure. There was indeed a water tank there, with a float that kicked in when the water level dropped, to pump up more agua. We held the float down and the pump kicked in. So that worked. But we couldn’t find the valve that actually opened up the flow of water to the house.

J and I looked in the bathroom, nothing there. J stopped for a second and eyed one of the knobs in the shower, but then passed it over. After J left, I walked down the block to find the landlady, who wasn’t home. FJ, the street’s cuidador (night guard), was further down the block and yelled to me, “Pablo, tienes una problema?” He came bicycling up. His cute little 3-year old was in a little bike seat attached to the metal rod in front of the bike seat. He showed me where his wife could sit in the back. Another person could sit on the handlebars and put their feet in a rod that came out from the front wheel, FJ said emphatically, “No, solo tres.” He is a careful man.

I told him the problem and he knew what to do. We walked up to the shower and, of course, the valve that J had eyeballed was the one that went to the tank. I had not mentioned it at the time because I knew it to be the hot water tap for the shower. It has an "H" on it, after all. Why I would think there was a hot water tap in a house without a hot water tank, I can’t tell you. I showed this to J who shook his head and said, “loco.” And he’s Nicaraguan!

So, another problema solved. If you're thinking of visiting (and have the courage), rest assured that you will be able to enjoy a hot shower.