Look up the word 'Boken' in any Japanese dictionary and it'll translate to 'adventure'. In American English, I mean, er, New Jersey English, 'Boken' is local talk referring to a small city in Hudson County that I am slowly getting used to calling my new home. The cozy brownstones that line Hoboken's main drag and the city's confident, even gaze towards the Manhattan skyline are beginning to assure me that anything is possible against the backdrop of this young, effervescent community. But what an adventure it's been.
My husband, Raj and I arrived here about a month ago, a jarring reality check after our honeymoon: 10 blissful days on the sleepy little isle of Maui. Sun-kissed, jittery and slightly delusional (the inevitable result of prolonged beach time, copious amounts of Kona Coffee and spending over 13 hours on a flight) we convinced ourselves that moving the day after we landed would be no biggie*. Miraculously, thanks to our family, the move went off without a hitch though I can't say the same about our first few weeks. For starters, without warning, the water heater in our building single-handedly decided that come Labor Day, it was going to retire. We became experts in the art of cold showers, eagerly awaiting the next passive-aggressive note from our condo board association, which would, more often than not, sternly emphasize our need to be patient (apology not included). It was only after spending a week loofahing in what felt like a refrigerator that the hot water gods smiled on us, granting us the right to bathe like civilized people again.
Next up, our floor fiasco. Bit by the Do-It-Ourselves bug, we decided to re-do our wooden floors, hoping to trade the lifeless beige look for a darker, chocolatey interior. Chalking it up to a weekend job, Raj coralled his older brother and cousin for help. I politely ducked away from the entire project altogether, a decision based on my non-existent handyman skills (hey, for the longest time I thought "spackling" was a dance move) and averse reaction to all things Home Depot. I escaped to my little sister's while the boys got to work, unaware of Hurricane Gustav, inching his way into the greater New Jersey area. Polyurethane and humidity are an unfortunate combination, I am told. And so, what started off as a two-day stint ballooned into an exhaustive, five-day effort. Though I must say, me and our rich, cherry-wood floors are forever grateful, gentlemen.
Of course, it's not over. We have a bathroom to paint, a microscopic kitchen to expand and a living room to furnish. And this time, I promise to get involved. Some adventures, I suppose, never end.
*I don't recommend this.
