But Lausanne's Vieille Ville will still have to wait for our visit. We didn't actually get there this time either. Oh, it started out well enough. But the "excursion" developed into something beyond our wildest dreams - or nightmares.
After being sure to grab cameras and sunglasses, we sallied forth and managed to get as far as the underground parking garage where we noticed some ominous looking puddles of water with an even more ominous - and very unpleasant - smell. I told HWMBO that the garage, usually impeccably clean, well-lit and pleasant, as garages go (this is Switzerland, after all!), smelled like a sewer.
A neighbor from the next building, who apparently had been hearing ominous noises from her drainpipes and had come down to investigage, agreed with us. But she was a renter. I am an owner. Something obviously had to be done. But just what exactly? And how? Ordinarily something like this would be reported to our condominium management company and they would promptly do whatever was necessary. But it was Saturday afternoon. Saturday afternoon in Switzerland is a "dead zone" for businesses generally. Still, I tried. I sent an urgent email to our agent (and, more importantly, to his assistant who does most of the heavy lifting), as well as calling the agency. Not only did a voice cheerily announce to me that the agency was closed until Monday, there was no emergency contact number provided. Moreover, the information sheets provided in our building provided no plumbing emergency contact number. After I called a few neighbors to explain the situation that affected us all, a strategy was agreed upon - at least for me to follow. I should first try the concierge for the condos in this development that have one (our own do not). Failing that (and it did fail), I should call les pompiers and see what they advised.
Les pompiers arrived quite promptly - six strapping men in hazard gear, in two red mini-vehicles (no sirens as I had explained what the situation was already) - examined the ominous-looking puddles, smelled the unpleasant odor, and agreed that there must be a sewer backup somewhere. They also decided that it was not their problem to solve. They did, however, provide me with the contact numbers for the plombier-vidangeur de service (on-duty plumber-evacuator) and advised me to call tout de suite (immediately). Which I certainly did.
By this time, the situation had attracted several neighbor onlookers, all of whom mentioned that they had noticed both puddles and smell. Some had even called the agency as I had. But all had left things at that. They thanked me. And then they left to go about their business! HWMBO and I watched somewhat wistfully. Our glorious afternoon was fast disappearing and it didn't look like there would be any quick solutions to the problem we had taken on.
When the plombier-vidangeur arrived, his first problem was that his utility truck was slightly too large to enter our underground parking area. So he backed the vehicle into the area as far as he could. HWMBO disabled the automatic garage door by unplugging the electrical connection so that the door wouldn't close.
And yes, the nasty icky-looking things are exactly one thinks they are. Yes, yuck. YUCK!!! What a day to forget one's gloves! I hope that his poor guy has been vaccinated against everything.
The major culprits were alleged to be cooking grease (!) and, as HWMBO and the very active plombier-vidangeur also witnessed, a hefty portion of wood and some good-sized stones that had somehow been left behind by workers in the garage of the one remaining unfinished building.
I finished the day by sending in a full report to the management company and the plombier-vidangeur will send his in too! One final note: after signing all the papers and believing that the day was finally over, I received a frantic call from the plombier-vidangeur who wondered if I had by chance carried away his car keys while signing the documents. They were gone! I duly checked my pockets and was relieved to see that I hadn't absent-mindedly put them there because I remembered nothing of the sort. But then we had a bigger problem. Where were those keys? As the sun had now set and it was dark, both HWMBO and I went out with flashlights to help search for the keys. After all of us had crawled about the pavement and thoroughly searched the vehicle, to no avail, it was HWMBO who finally saved the day. There, nestled in the grass between the vehicle and one building where the plombier-vidangeur had been leaping (did I mention how active he was?) back and forth over the fence to check the drain cover in the garden were the lost keys. Here is a photo of that cover taken earlier in the day while there was still light.
I have a feeling that our condo bill won't be any less - even after our help with the search.
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