Everyone has roommate stories. Everyone can tell you about their horrible roommate and their best friend roommate. I have my stories. I have doosies when they come to bad roommates:
- The one that complained that I showered to loud and typed too loud to the point she couldn’t study.
- The one whose mother fedexed her food weekly from Texas to Georgetown so that she didn’t have to shop.
- The one whose mother picked out her clothes in the morning.
- The one who was mad when I was on the phone on Sept 11, 2001 talking to family (who live in New York and worked in the twin towers) because I was interrupting her.
- The one whose family told my Jesuit University that I was running a brothel out of the room.
- The one who kept the light on all night.
- The one who asked the school to ask me to wake up without using an alarm clock.
- The one who consistently hung up on my friends when they tried to leave me messages.
Admittedly, all of the above are a single person! Still. Doosies!
And then I have the fabulous roommate stories. At the top of the list I have the twins. Jo and Lu were the best roommates, friends, family that I could ever ask for. I lived with them for one semester in 2000.
I actually know them from high school. They were sophomores when I was a senior; although we are the same age. My first college semester in Chile was spent in Santiago which is not my favorite city. I was so excited to move to Vina del Mar for the second semester. Since I was planning to rent an apartment, I asked Jo if I could come stay with them for a weekend and if he could come see places with me. They lived in this great condo their parents owned with ocean view. They stayed in the three bedroom condo alone and their parents would come up on weekends. I liked the area and hoped to find something nearby. When I arrived to start apartment hunting Jo walked me to his apartment and shouted: Welcome home!
There we had it. They had convinced their mother that I should live with them and that on weekends when she and pai came up that we would rotate around so that everyone fit. And I moved in. We ate. I went to watch them play basketball. They worried about me getting home late and would pick me up at the bus station twice a week when I returned around midnight from a class I continued to take in Santiago. We went dancing. We laughed, watched movies, danced, cooked.
Their mother is an excellent cook with a gentle heart and a hearty laugh. After she learned about my
love obsession for artichokes, she cooked them for me regularly. She would show up on weekends and fill the fridge with individual servings in tuber ware of food for the week.
I miss them.
In January I am moving back in with Lu. I can hardly contain my excitement. Still, it is bittersweet and can’t be the same. Jo is married (to my favorite of all his girlfriends and a woman I really really love). He lives in the states and I hadn’t seen him since 2000 (up until tonight).
The picture above is Jo. That said, Lu is very similar (if you don’t believe me go to my flickr… about 4 pictures later there is a picture of Lu). So just picture two of them. And me. In the middle. Laughing my head off.