Son (22) is one of those students that moved into the College Road area around UCC at the end of May. The day after he moved in the residents held a silent protest which was surprisingly effective. Each resident stood outside their house wearing a high visibility vest holding up signs saying, 'Students: Why Are You Here?' The protest made the main TV news that evening, all the major newspapers and was the topic for a heated debate on the radio.
In his brief visit home last Sunday to steal my best saucepan, Son (22) showed me a video a girl had taken of two elderly residents, wearing masks, break into her house on College Road. The girl recorded the incident on her phone from an upstairs window. At first, the two men stand at the garden gate, shouting abuse at the house before briefly disappearing out of view. You then hear the smashing of glass as they break through the front door. The next thing you see is the two men retreating down the garden path as a male student tries to reason with them. The older of the two men kicks at the boxes of empty beer bottles neatly stacked in the front garden and then reaching into one of the boxes, he snatches up a bottle and smashes it against the wall.
Son also showed me a tweet tagged #StudentsLivesMatter calling on all students to stage a silent counter-protest with signs saying, 'Residents, Why Are You Here?' to be followed by the biggest house party Cork has ever seen. It was a joke. Neither the protest nor the rave happened.
My sympathies lie with the residents. We lived in an apartment on the 15th floor and had the misfortune to live above a Mr Kwan. Mr Kwan was in his eighties and from the first day we moved in, he complained about our children daily. The security men would knock on our front door and in an apologetic manner, advise me of the latest complaint. I made an effort to be quieter; switching off the TV at 7 pm and removing our shoes as soon as we entered the apartment as is the custom in Hong Kong. The complaints kept coming. It was irritating, but I learned to live with it. Until one night.
In his brief visit home last Sunday to steal my best saucepan, Son (22) showed me a video a girl had taken of two elderly residents, wearing masks, break into her house on College Road. The girl recorded the incident on her phone from an upstairs window. At first, the two men stand at the garden gate, shouting abuse at the house before briefly disappearing out of view. You then hear the smashing of glass as they break through the front door. The next thing you see is the two men retreating down the garden path as a male student tries to reason with them. The older of the two men kicks at the boxes of empty beer bottles neatly stacked in the front garden and then reaching into one of the boxes, he snatches up a bottle and smashes it against the wall.
Son also showed me a tweet tagged #StudentsLivesMatter calling on all students to stage a silent counter-protest with signs saying, 'Residents, Why Are You Here?' to be followed by the biggest house party Cork has ever seen. It was a joke. Neither the protest nor the rave happened.
My sympathies lie with the residents. We lived in an apartment on the 15th floor and had the misfortune to live above a Mr Kwan. Mr Kwan was in his eighties and from the first day we moved in, he complained about our children daily. The security men would knock on our front door and in an apologetic manner, advise me of the latest complaint. I made an effort to be quieter; switching off the TV at 7 pm and removing our shoes as soon as we entered the apartment as is the custom in Hong Kong. The complaints kept coming. It was irritating, but I learned to live with it. Until one night.
Hubbie had left for Korea that day. The boys were in bed for 8 pm, and I went to bed myself. At 11 pm I heard the phone ring in the sitting room. By the time I got to the phone, it stopped ringing. I turned to go back to bed. The phone rang again. It was Mr Kwan, "You are disturbing me."
"What?" I said.
"You are making too much noise."
"I was in bed asleep. In fact, you woke me up."
Mr Kwan insisted again I was making too much noise and then hung up.
Too angry to put on a dressing gown, I ran for the front door and too furious to wait for the lift, I hurtled down the service stairs. I knocked on Mr Kwan's door. His son answered. As soon as he saw me, he went to close it again, but I jammed my foot in the door and forced him backwards. Mr Kwan then appeared in his dressing gown. I screamed at him, "You moron; I was asleep." His son caught me by the shoulders and attempted to shove me back out the open door. I shrugged him off and continued to berate his father.
Back home again, with rage flooding my veins, I wrote a letter to the condo management and hand-delivered it the next day. The manager was out, but the head of security was there. He was polite and sympathetic but told me that owners of apartments have all the rights and tenants none and unreasonable as Mr Kwan is, there was very little they or I could do. He suggested that the next time I had trouble with Mr Kwan, I should call the police. His suggestion shocked me, "Why would I waste their time over neighbours squabbling?"
I rang Hubbie in Korea. "Maybe we should move out," he said.
"Absolutely not," I said, "He's the problem."
The following week, with Hubbie still away, my oldest son had a sleepover for his 12th birthday with six of his school friends. Big mistake. The boys went berserk running from room to room, banging doors and watching videos until well past midnight. I could not rein them in for fear of ruining their fun. At 1 am, there was a knock on the front door. Standing at the door were two policemen with guns and badges. One of them was a captain. I was relieved: maybe the boys would go to bed now. The boys, however, thought it was hilarious. "Cool," they said. "Wait 'till we tell everybody at school."
Without their helmets, they looked like security men, and the boys did not take them seriously. The captain warned the boys to go to bed and left. Ten minutes later, the policemen came back. This time there were three of them. The boys agreed to confine their antics to my son's bedroom.
We were doomed. In less than a week, we had lost all moral authority over Mr Kwan and credibility with management.
Hubbie returned from Korea the following weekend. He reasoned that it was a miserable situation that would never improve. He also confided in me something the landlord told him after we moved in; the previous tenants were Japanese with a little girl and Mr Kwan drove them out too. If the Japanese were too noisy for him what hope did we have? We would never be in peace so long as we stayed in this apartment. I stormed out with my passport and wallet. I walked into the depths of Happy Valley before I ran out of steam. We moved to tower 14.
Noisy neighbours are hell. The residents on College Road deserve peace. Most of them are elderly and have been observing the Covid-19 restrictions by cocooning for several months now. For them to have their efforts mocked when they see these young, virile, healthy creatures, in clear violation of the 5km restriction, moving in with crates of beer and barbecue sets and treating their place like it's Magaluf. If I was a resident, it would be more than a few beer bottles I'd be kicking.
"What?" I said.
"You are making too much noise."
"I was in bed asleep. In fact, you woke me up."
Mr Kwan insisted again I was making too much noise and then hung up.
Too angry to put on a dressing gown, I ran for the front door and too furious to wait for the lift, I hurtled down the service stairs. I knocked on Mr Kwan's door. His son answered. As soon as he saw me, he went to close it again, but I jammed my foot in the door and forced him backwards. Mr Kwan then appeared in his dressing gown. I screamed at him, "You moron; I was asleep." His son caught me by the shoulders and attempted to shove me back out the open door. I shrugged him off and continued to berate his father.
Back home again, with rage flooding my veins, I wrote a letter to the condo management and hand-delivered it the next day. The manager was out, but the head of security was there. He was polite and sympathetic but told me that owners of apartments have all the rights and tenants none and unreasonable as Mr Kwan is, there was very little they or I could do. He suggested that the next time I had trouble with Mr Kwan, I should call the police. His suggestion shocked me, "Why would I waste their time over neighbours squabbling?"
I rang Hubbie in Korea. "Maybe we should move out," he said.
"Absolutely not," I said, "He's the problem."
The following week, with Hubbie still away, my oldest son had a sleepover for his 12th birthday with six of his school friends. Big mistake. The boys went berserk running from room to room, banging doors and watching videos until well past midnight. I could not rein them in for fear of ruining their fun. At 1 am, there was a knock on the front door. Standing at the door were two policemen with guns and badges. One of them was a captain. I was relieved: maybe the boys would go to bed now. The boys, however, thought it was hilarious. "Cool," they said. "Wait 'till we tell everybody at school."
Without their helmets, they looked like security men, and the boys did not take them seriously. The captain warned the boys to go to bed and left. Ten minutes later, the policemen came back. This time there were three of them. The boys agreed to confine their antics to my son's bedroom.
We were doomed. In less than a week, we had lost all moral authority over Mr Kwan and credibility with management.
Hubbie returned from Korea the following weekend. He reasoned that it was a miserable situation that would never improve. He also confided in me something the landlord told him after we moved in; the previous tenants were Japanese with a little girl and Mr Kwan drove them out too. If the Japanese were too noisy for him what hope did we have? We would never be in peace so long as we stayed in this apartment. I stormed out with my passport and wallet. I walked into the depths of Happy Valley before I ran out of steam. We moved to tower 14.
Noisy neighbours are hell. The residents on College Road deserve peace. Most of them are elderly and have been observing the Covid-19 restrictions by cocooning for several months now. For them to have their efforts mocked when they see these young, virile, healthy creatures, in clear violation of the 5km restriction, moving in with crates of beer and barbecue sets and treating their place like it's Magaluf. If I was a resident, it would be more than a few beer bottles I'd be kicking.
No comments:
Post a Comment