New Neighbors

I'm a big proponent of being neighborly. I don't think many people know their neighbors nowadays. Do you? Did you tentatively knock on a few doors in your new neighborhood bearing jello molds or homeade baked goods? Most likely not. I'd like to be the kind of person who would do this. I think this is a lost value. It's good to know that we can count on the people in closest proximity to us in case of emergency or in best-case scenario, company. I'd like to have that network and to have those close to me feel that way too. Granted this becomes more difficult when those around you don't speak your language. So, why am I so annoyed when I am faced with the duty of actually being a good neighbor. This is where Bert and Ernie come in.

Bert and Ernie are not muppets, but two twenty-something Asians, and our helpful next-door neigbors. I call them helpful, because for the first week I wasn't sure how to operate the stove. So one day after coming home sweaty and red-faced from a run, I saw them heading into their apartment next door. I took this oppurtunity to drag them into our apartment and mime befuddlement at the stove: lots of shrugging and imaginary knob turning. Turns out all that was required was turning the knob and lighting a match. Whaat, gas-powered appliances?? A few weeks later Jen turned on her bedroom light and somehow burned out a fuse in our apartment. I was again out for a run and came back to a candlelit apartment. While I was gone, Jen consulted B&E, and while they had no idea and we eventually had to rely on an Italian handyman paying a near-midnight visit, I'm sure B&E tried to help the best they could.

So, here's the problem. Lately B&E have been knocking on our door (always when Jen or I is using the blow-dryer) with laptop in hand. The first time they knocked it was pretty evident what they wanted; Bert was carrying a computer and the only salvageable word from the onslaught of Czech was "wifi." Ok, cool, come on over. We get the internet in a very limited area of our apartment, specifically the end of my bed, which is in the living room. We don't pay for it, so I cant complain. So, they come over and sit at the kitchen table and we have to motion them over to the portion of the apartment that does pick up the internet. We live in an attic apartment, so the walls slant in. (It's almost like I have a skylight above my bed, which is kind of cool, albeit bright.) So, they know when they come here, they have to crouch uncomfortably against the wall, because I'm sure sitting on my bed would be weird for them. One time when poor Ernie stood up, he hit his head on the ceiling/wall. I'm sure its also uncomfortable for them to have to look at my underwear and sports bras drying on a rack several feet from their faces. And if they follow the hair-dryer sound cue, usually one or both of us is in some unfinished stage of dressing.
I know it must be weird for them to come over here and its weird for us too. I frankly don't like it at all. I feel like I can't move around my own (very small) apartment. I'll usually take this time to do some form of innocuous busywork: dishes, putting trash in the trash bin, rearranging cans in the kitchen cupboard, anything that doesn't involve being in my room/living room. And I'm usually thinking the whole time about how much I want them to leave, so I can resume normal habits.
I understand how much it must suck to not have the internet at home. I'm dependent on the internet. If I was B or E, I would probably be doing the same thing.But at the same time, it's disconcerting to have people in your house, even if its only in tiny twenty-minute increments.
So, I run into B&E on the way into the apartment today. "Jak se mash?" Bert says. "Alicia, jak se mash?" Byri (imaginative spelling.) And then, get this. I mime typing on the computer and make a swooping welcoming gesture and say,"internet! come over whenever!" And B&E smile and I smile. And I'm walking down the street and wonder why those words came out of my mouth and how frequent their visits will be and how I can never really complain about it again cause I just asked for it.
Maybe being neighborly is an inborn instinct, despite society's growing tendency towards isolation. Maybe in this case, the very tool that is absorbing people into an alternate reality that in most cases discourages the notion of a physical community, can bring two cultures together. Maybe we'll befriend B&E and we'll leave each other little computer-shaped fruitcakes adorned with ribbons and bows on our doorsteps for Christmas.
Or maybe I'll just stop blow-drying my hair.