Adventures in Delivery
I am getting three of our floors redone. These rooms have old, faded, tired and dirty floors that, despite professional cleaning, still look old, faded, tired and dirty. I hired Girardo, tile fitter recommended by our friend Tom. At Garo, the tile factory in town, I ordered lighter-toned ("Tuscany Beige") porcelain tiles. Two of the rooms are quite dark, and I'm hoping the off-white tiles will lighten them.
Delivery is included in the price...that is, delivery to a home the pick-up truck can access. But in alley-laden Guanajuato, you often can't access the street. Our home isn't accessible by car (one of its advantages, except when it comes to deliveries). Tom pointed out that many people spend as much on delivery charges as on the materials. While I was at the store, the salesperson I was dealing with had a long conversation with the manager about the feasibility of getting the tiles (and grout and cement) to our house. Finally they decided they would do all they could, but they couldn't promise, since delivery trucks at our nearest drop-off point are, theoretically, only allowed five minutes to park.
The driver and I spoke on the phone while I was at the store, and he asked if I could meet him at the drop-off point that afternoon (two days ahead of delivery), and we would walk through the process and see if it was workable.
An hour later we met. While he stayed with the truck, his helper and I checked out two drop-off places at the bottom of Tecolte, our street. He didn't think either of them would work, because delivering all the material would take at least an hour. The driver asked if we could access Tecolote from La Panoramica, the highway above town that circumnavigates the city. The problem, I told him, is you can only drive down a little bit of Tecolote before you reach the barrier that prevents entry of motor vehicles, and it's a longer walk to our house from that place than from the bottom. "Well, let's go check it out," he said. So we wound slowly around town--driving around the twists and turns of Guanajuato is always slower than walking--ending up at La Panoramica, where he turned the truck around and began driving in reverse, since there's no turnaround point lower down. We came to a low bridge, where another road intersects Tecolote above it, and...of course!...the roof of the truck got stuck. The guys were able to unjam it and get out, but obviously the truck wasn't going to be able to fit.
"There is another truck the store owns, but it's in the shop," the guy said. Well, that's no use. A car in a shop will take a long time for repairs.
The driver's helper and I headed down Tecolote on foot, leaving the driver with the truck, and I walked him from the bottom of the street up to our house, showing him the route. There was no other option but to hope they would be able to hover down at the bottom of Tecolote long enough before the traffic officer told them to leave or threatened to fine them. Traffic penalties are high. The driver told me that tipping the transit officer $5 U.S. might help.
The day of the delivery, the driver called me from the store, saying he'd be there in 20 minutes and for me to meet him at the bottom of the street. I went on down and spotted the truck. He talked to the transito and was told that for the time being, parking was OK. We were in a bit of a lull, it being siesta-time, so traffic was light. There were three guys all told. The distance isn't far, but the incline is very steep and they were breaking out a sweat at the first trip. I sat on the steps inside the house, keeping count of the tiles and watching them work, not really liking being the Little Lady standing by, but knowing there was no real atternative. For one thing, each of the cartons of tile weighed about 80 pounds, and for another, I couldn't leave the door of the house open and unattended.
Another gringa we know who lives deep in a callejon bought a burro to transport things. Maybe that's the solution.
They worked hard. I gave them more than we contracted for, $15 each and $5 to the transito. But good. It's done. And today Girardo arrives to start the work. By the end of the week we'll have newly tiled floors, and it'll all be finished.
Delivery is included in the price...that is, delivery to a home the pick-up truck can access. But in alley-laden Guanajuato, you often can't access the street. Our home isn't accessible by car (one of its advantages, except when it comes to deliveries). Tom pointed out that many people spend as much on delivery charges as on the materials. While I was at the store, the salesperson I was dealing with had a long conversation with the manager about the feasibility of getting the tiles (and grout and cement) to our house. Finally they decided they would do all they could, but they couldn't promise, since delivery trucks at our nearest drop-off point are, theoretically, only allowed five minutes to park.
The driver and I spoke on the phone while I was at the store, and he asked if I could meet him at the drop-off point that afternoon (two days ahead of delivery), and we would walk through the process and see if it was workable.
An hour later we met. While he stayed with the truck, his helper and I checked out two drop-off places at the bottom of Tecolte, our street. He didn't think either of them would work, because delivering all the material would take at least an hour. The driver asked if we could access Tecolote from La Panoramica, the highway above town that circumnavigates the city. The problem, I told him, is you can only drive down a little bit of Tecolote before you reach the barrier that prevents entry of motor vehicles, and it's a longer walk to our house from that place than from the bottom. "Well, let's go check it out," he said. So we wound slowly around town--driving around the twists and turns of Guanajuato is always slower than walking--ending up at La Panoramica, where he turned the truck around and began driving in reverse, since there's no turnaround point lower down. We came to a low bridge, where another road intersects Tecolote above it, and...of course!...the roof of the truck got stuck. The guys were able to unjam it and get out, but obviously the truck wasn't going to be able to fit.
"There is another truck the store owns, but it's in the shop," the guy said. Well, that's no use. A car in a shop will take a long time for repairs.
The driver's helper and I headed down Tecolote on foot, leaving the driver with the truck, and I walked him from the bottom of the street up to our house, showing him the route. There was no other option but to hope they would be able to hover down at the bottom of Tecolote long enough before the traffic officer told them to leave or threatened to fine them. Traffic penalties are high. The driver told me that tipping the transit officer $5 U.S. might help.
The day of the delivery, the driver called me from the store, saying he'd be there in 20 minutes and for me to meet him at the bottom of the street. I went on down and spotted the truck. He talked to the transito and was told that for the time being, parking was OK. We were in a bit of a lull, it being siesta-time, so traffic was light. There were three guys all told. The distance isn't far, but the incline is very steep and they were breaking out a sweat at the first trip. I sat on the steps inside the house, keeping count of the tiles and watching them work, not really liking being the Little Lady standing by, but knowing there was no real atternative. For one thing, each of the cartons of tile weighed about 80 pounds, and for another, I couldn't leave the door of the house open and unattended.
Another gringa we know who lives deep in a callejon bought a burro to transport things. Maybe that's the solution.
They worked hard. I gave them more than we contracted for, $15 each and $5 to the transito. But good. It's done. And today Girardo arrives to start the work. By the end of the week we'll have newly tiled floors, and it'll all be finished.
posted by Louisa at 7:32 AM
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