The plumbing strikes back

I had been going to end the last post by noting that when the Amish fix something, it stays fixed.  Alas our toilet seems to have the devil in it, for not a day had elapsed after they left before it started playing up again.  We've been on to the landlord and have received instructions that Hosea (which I now learn is the satisfyingly exotic name of our erstwhile and taciturn plumber) will appear sometime next week to have another go.

I hope he brings his bible as well as replacement valves, just in case there is more than rust at work and he has to exorcise demonic forces from the cistern.

The Return of the Amish

The Amish are back again.  Long time readers will recall that they fixed our deck earlier in the year.  Now they're back to fix our screen door, some drainage difficulties out the back, and an unrelated problem with the flush in the downstairs toilet (or "half-bathroom" as they're called here, despite not containing a bath).  For thirty years of my life these people might as well have been from a fairy tale, now they're fixing my toilet.  I'm not sure what to make of that.

I'm writing this post to take a break from writing about the next big thing in high speed wireless communications.  Somehow it feels a bit wrong doing that while these famous eschewers of the electric age are downstairs fixing the door.  Admittedly I'm still using a computer as I write this, but at least the subject matter isn't adding insult to injury.  Anyway, I hear the fellow downstairs using his electric drill and possibly even a cell phone...so my overactive conscience is somewhat assuaged.

Unlike last time when they swept in and out with barely a word, this time I have had to interact with them to explain the plumbing difficulties.  I had been going to write - and indeed had just written before I erased it - that these Amish workmen seem cold and unfriendly.  But I've just this minute been on a hunt in the basement for the main water valve (turned out it was hidden behind some slapped-together walls) and I think I should revise that.  Taciturn and quiet, yes.  But not out of hostility, I think, just as a way of using as few words as possible.  They've got a job to do, you know.  Mind you, they don't say hello or goodbye.  I don't know their names, they come and go without a word.  So maybe not cold, but certainly rather chilly.

It's an interesting experience, trying to learn about a people from the way they mend your house, and a technique that anthropologists would no doubt frown upon as full of methodological flaws.  It's the only one I've got, though, so I'll have to stick with it even if it leaves me with more questions than answers.

On the level

It occurred to me that I never posted an update on how the Amish were getting on with our deck, despite promising to do so.

The reason I forgot was that the two Amish fellows who did the job did it so quickly that they were off almost before I knew it.  They finished reattaching our deck to the house almost before I'd written the post announcing their arrival.  They also worked on a neighbouring deck, so they were in the vicinity for about another hour, but then they were off.

Mrs Walles tried to snap a photo of one of them while they were working but the opportunity never arose.  I had wanted to photograph the hat that one of them left on the ground while he worked, but I didn't even manage that.

I went out to inspect the results while they were working on the deck next door and they asked very cheerily if it was better, and we said yes - it was good to be able to walk out there without wondering if it was going to fall down under you.  That was the extent of our interaction, though.  The neighbours, native Pennsylvanians, just took it in their stride and were talking away trying to convince them to do extra work on the deck (which they did).  All in all it took them about 90 minutes to reattach two decks to the houses and replace the railings on one of them.  And then they were gone.  Raising a deck a few inches isn't quite in the same league as raising a barn, but it was still intriguing to watch.

The Amish are here!

I had just got out of the shower when I thought I heard voices emanating from below (outside, I mean, I haven't lost my marbles).  And indeed the Amish contractors have arrived to fix our back deck, complete with straw hats, braces and all.  I can already hear industrious sounds accompanying the voices (which is amazing, given that the humidity is near 100% and the temperature is rapidly climbing to another lofty high.

Looking out the front window I see that there is a closed trailer, kind of like a horse float, in which they have all their equipment and supplies, and that's been dropped off in the driveway.  That partly explains something Mrs Walles and I had been pondering - how do they get here?  It's well known that the Amish don't drive cars, but it's not so well known that they can accept rides if someone else is driving.  I guess the  same applies to their tools.  Or perhaps these blokes are from one of the less stringent sects (there are quite a few) that are more liberal about things like horseless carriages.

I think I can hear power tools (I can't quite see them from where I'm writing this) but that doesn't clinch it: even the rigorous Amish sects are allowed to use electricity and other mod cons in businesses, apparently.

Anyway, I'll keep you posted on their progress - they can't be planning to take long, since there's a big storm coming this afternoon. Although I suppose they might not know that...after all, I only know because I saw it on TV...

An old-fashioned deck-raising

Mrs Walles and I noticed the other day that something structurally unsound is going on with our back deck, so we emailed our landlord.  We heard back that she is arranging to have it rectified (possibly replaced) by some Amish, which is very exciting. Only in Pennsylvania.

I hope that there will be fiddles and lemonade and Harrison Ford skulking in the background...though I suspect it will be actually be some Amish men Just Getting The Job Done.  And they probably wouldn't appreciate it if we charged tourists money to stand in our yard and watch them work.

I've seen Amish working before, actually, roofing a house down the road.  They don't have to pay tax, and they have an outstanding reputation, so naturally the non-Amish contractors hate them because they undercut them and take all their work.

But that's nothing to do with me, I'm just wide-eyed outsider, who thinks it's neat to be connected in any way with these interesting people.  Let's face it, I'm not likely to have much contact with them otherwise.  They probably view a person like me (a computer programmer and technology writer) as some kind of antichrist.  I don't think they go in for popish rituals like exorcism, but I'd rather not find out the hard way.

Watch out

Mrs Walles and I had to go to York earlier this week so that the government could "capture my biometrics".  It's less violating than it sounds, they just wanted my fingerprints, photo and signature.  We didn't get to see much of York itself, our business being on the outskirts, but from what I can tell, the New York is a little more exciting.

On the way back we took one of the state roads (routes, as they call them here, all with numbers, all of which everyone except me seems to be able to remember).  At a few points along the way we passed signs like this one.

That's fair enough.  There are plenty of deer here, even around towns.  We had one browse through our back yard last summer and that was just the one we saw.  They aren't that worried by people, or roads, so they are a real hazard.  More than once I've seen a carcass lying on the side of the road.  But wild deer aren't that weird to us Kiwis.  The next one isn't something you won't see back in New Zealand, though.

That's a horse and buggy, specifically the kind that the Amish like to use.  They have to use the road just like everyone else, and you'll see them out in their buggies or riding bicycles in their uncomfortable-looking, old-fashioned garb, even in the ludicrous heat and humidity that the summers bring here.  On this trip I saw an Amish man ploughing a field with a team of horses and an Amish couple tending their garden.

The generally acknowledged Amish centre in Pennsylvania is Lancaster County, around the town of Lancaster (surprise, surprise) which isn't far from where we were in York.  Unfortunately the Amish and their way of life have become such a tourist attraction that many of them have left for distant parts of the US to start a new life away from the glare of publicity.  There are still plenty there, though, and the tourists flock in their thousands to tiny places like Intercourse and Blue Ball (I know, I know) where specially built attractions cater to their every need.  It's pretty much like Rotorua or Queenstown, but in a corn field.  And, though it can feel a little exploitative and artificial, it's really great fun.  More on that another time, perhaps.

For all their differences, which are many, I do feel an affinity to the Amish in one tiny way.  Like most New Zealanders, and unlike most Americans, they dry their washing outside on a line.  That's probably where the similarities end, though.  I doubt I'll be joining them in their spiritual endeavour any time soon - I don't think I could handle the beard for a start.

Daffodils

Today was really the first time this season that I've been able to go for a walk.  The planets were all aligned: I had the time and the weather wasn't throwing snow or rain at me.

I learned on my brief excursion outside that I had been a little harsh in my previous assessment of American gardening.  Having previously been here only in the height of summer (when it's stifling) or the height of winter (when it's freezing and everything is covered in inches of snow and ice) I had formed the opinion that the people in these parts don't go in for flower gardens.

But the many daffodils, tulips and hyacinths I saw today proved that this isn't entirely true.  Many houses have a few little clutches of spring flowers in their front yards  It's pretty and reassuring but, I have to say, it's still not gardening as I know it.

Now I certainly don't want to tar everyone with the same brush here.  There are people who garden and in some places I am sure it is more common than it is around here.  But you can in other ways that gardening is a minority pastime.  It's mentioned very little on TV, for a start.  There is a series of ads running at the moment from the Home Depot, in which they feel it is necessary to define "perennial" and "annual".

There are quite a few keen vegetable gardeners, even among our neighbours.  But flowers don't really seem to be their thing (an interesting exception in Pennsylvania are the Amish who, I once read, edge their crops with flowers).

That doesn't mean that yards are bare, though.  Next time I'll look at some of the ways Americans decorate outside the house without recourse to horticulture.