Close to Olympic Greatness

The gold medal for the Olympic 10 Meter Dive goes to.... justVASGO!!!

Yesterday, I enjoyed a different night out.  Every person needs a change of scenery and cuisine and last night was the time for me. I went to an Irish pub in Rome called Scholars Lounge.  It's actually a great spot because they have superb seating for games of every sport and too many TVs to choose from.  While I enjoyed a couple pints of Murphy's Irish Red and the cities best nachos (I'm pretty sure they are the only ones in all of Rome who actually use REAL cheddar cheese and ACTUAL pickled jalapeno slices), I watched a few hours of the Olympics on Italian channels, Irish channels, British channels and one that was in Arabic, but I couldn't read which nation that was from. Like I said, LOTS of TVs.

Thank you, satellite television, for your world connections.

The coverage went from indoor volleyball to beach volleyball, table tennis to a much larger version of that game, water polo, women's soccer, gymnastics, handball and more.  Then the female high dive event came on.  Pairs performed amazing flips and twists and I fondly evaluated their difficulty as critically as any professional judge.  People nearby looked strangely at me as I confidently told no one and everyone how they were certainly going to get less points because their splashes were too large.

Photo Source

With acrobatic high dive moves stuck in my head, I headed home for the night with my expert (not an expert of Olympics). We arrived there, opened the door and I found my own 10 meter pool in my kitchen and bathroom.  A lovely discovery.

In Italy, many bathrooms use their space wisely, putting tanks way above the toilets for more room, or perhaps for better flush power. I'm not a toilet expert, unfortunately, so I can't be certain why.  Sometimes tanks are behind the tile bathroom walls with a single, small access point if a repair needs to be done. Mine is like the first example, a tank high above.  So high, in fact, that it is located in the storage cabinet above the bathroom ceiling, which extends over the kitchen area.

We immediately scrambled to find the water source, stepping through the puddle (not actually 10 meters deep) looking under the sink, toilet, bidet and of course not finding the nozzle while the room became a Better Homes and Garden approved water feature. Running outside to the laundry machine, I looked there and everywhere else and the piping I found didn't seem to be the right one. So what did we do? Grabbed all of our soaking stored goods such as luggage, extra rugs from the owners, etc, pulled them out and triple-back-flip tossed my gymnast of an expert up there. She managed to turn off the tank's water source.

The sound of drips replaced the constant filling of the tank.  Turns out when I went to the restroom right before leaving for the pub, the flush caused something to stick and it never stopped itself.

I inspected the damage. Water still dripped through light sources, the bathroom fan, sides of the walls and spots I never knew were gaps. Coats of paint bubbled out in certain areas.

The rest of the night was really the Olympic weightlifting competition, as the soaking objects, including the two random pieces of drywall (2' x 8') up there, became tremendously heavier due to absorption.  Breaking them down and being showered with chunks of the stuff wasn't the most enjoyable experience. Indeed, a different kind of shower was in order after that.  Hopefully with a couple days of drying time, we will be able to put most of the gear back above.

The good news?  The owners should be thrilled that their storage cabinets are much cleaner than when I moved here. Me? At least I worked off those calories from the beer and nachos.