The day after our arrival we met our removal man in Parga and he followed us up to the village. We knew already that his van would not get down the very narrow road that leads to our house and, as I was still limping badly, we had requested help from local Greek and English friends to help with the unloading. Unfortunately for us none of them were available at that moment, so our white van man suggested a coffee break, as he was in no particular hurry to get away. An hour later it was becoming obvious that help was not going to be forthcoming, and Margaret went to beg for help from a friend building his own house at the other side of the village. A while later she returned with 3 Albanians in tow who were labouring for our friend and, as he was about to take a break for lunch, had offered their services.
This trio were quickly christened Curly, Larry and Mo, (the 3 Stooges, Google it if you don't know who they are), and like their namesakes there was a boss and they argued a lot about the best way to do things. One insisted on using a wheelbarrow and we watched nervously as box after box of our possessions was stacked on it. Only satisfied when the load prevented him seeing where he was going, he set off down the road with me hobbling behind ready to pick up the pieces.
Margaret decided it was better not to watch and went inside to supervise the placement of our goods and chattels.
Rather surprisingly, 90 minutes later, the van was empty and nothing had been broken!
It was then that I found out that our workforce did not come free, and I had made the classic mistake when dealing with labour here by not fixing a price BEFORE they started unloading.
Now these guys normally work for 35-40 euros for a full shift so you can imagine my surprise when the boss man demanded 60 euros in payment. It soon became obvious that no amount of negotiation with Curly, (or was it Larry or Mo?), was going to reduce the price, so I paid up and made a mental note of the lesson learned.
This trio were quickly christened Curly, Larry and Mo, (the 3 Stooges, Google it if you don't know who they are), and like their namesakes there was a boss and they argued a lot about the best way to do things. One insisted on using a wheelbarrow and we watched nervously as box after box of our possessions was stacked on it. Only satisfied when the load prevented him seeing where he was going, he set off down the road with me hobbling behind ready to pick up the pieces.
Margaret decided it was better not to watch and went inside to supervise the placement of our goods and chattels.
Rather surprisingly, 90 minutes later, the van was empty and nothing had been broken!
It was then that I found out that our workforce did not come free, and I had made the classic mistake when dealing with labour here by not fixing a price BEFORE they started unloading.
Now these guys normally work for 35-40 euros for a full shift so you can imagine my surprise when the boss man demanded 60 euros in payment. It soon became obvious that no amount of negotiation with Curly, (or was it Larry or Mo?), was going to reduce the price, so I paid up and made a mental note of the lesson learned.
The house after it's coat of paint and a view of the village from the castle on the hill above. If you click on the village view our house has a yellow arrow sticking out of the roof!!!!
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