At left is the “before” photo. Note the plastic accordion door. At right is the “after” photo. New door in place.
Some of you might know of our bathroom and its infamous portal. Our bathroom is rather small and it has a plastic accordion door which makes one feel when they are in situ as if they are in the middle of the living room. You can imagine how that makes those in the living room feel. Actually I should say living room/kitchen, because it is both in one. The handle/lock on the accordion door was missing when we moved in 6 months ago and our landlady assured us she would have it fixed. After a few weeks and some phone calls she let me call the guy who fixes things. I suggested to him why not replace the accordion door with a real door, he agreed, spoke to the landlady, she agreed, and for the next 5 months there were emails and phone messages. The fixer guy came to take measurements on two occasions and said the door would arrive in a few weeks each time. Fine. Meanwhile I bought a little metal eye hook so we could lock the door. Did someone say MacGyver? Yes.
Since Jeanne was coming this week I asked again two weeks ago to replace the door. Jeanne left this morning and yesterday they came to do the work. Here is what happened:
8:45am, the albanil (bricklayer, mason) and the guapo (the assistant, whose name we found out is Sergi) arrive. They just call him guapo, which means handsome. It’s not anything spanish or cultural. They take measurements and leave. Say they’ll be back in two hours with the door. [This is the third time measurements have been taken] The albanil, whose name I never got, has a thick accent, perhaps eastern European, perhaps Portuguese, perhaps catalan. Hard to place. He’s built like a mason, stocky, brick shaped. Very nice guy. The guapo we’ve met before on numerous occasions when other things had to be done (water heater, etc.). Super nice guy. Doesn’t say much.
11:30, the albanil and guapo return. Total tools: One iron mallet, two steel spikes/chisels, one plaster palette, one plaster palette knife, one sponge, one (manual) saw, one rubber bucket. Total materials: One wooden door and frame, one back masonry anchors, one bag mortar, one scrap piece of wood. First thing they do is ask me if I have a screwdriver to remove the plastic door. I do, thank god, or it might have been another two weeks. Off comes the plastic door. Now, I’m thinking, this thing better get done today or we’re in it deep. They bring the new door over to take measurements. They turn it this way, then that, upside down, backwards, finally they get the measurements. They need a ladder to make sure of something (I don’t know) and off goes the guapo to retrieve the ladder kept on the roof. The guapo brings the door up to the roof (huff, huff, huff) and we hear the tell-tale signs of the saw, as well as the scraping of plastic chairs, which I take to mean the makeshift saw-horse. Twenty-five minutes later the disfigured door returns. Meanwhile the albanil gets to work on the frame anchoring. Normally in the states we’d prep the door with a “rough” frame. Pieces of wood that are built up to the exact dimension of the finished frame – because many doors now some “pre-hung” on a wooden frame it makes it easy to slip the finished frame into the opening and then just attach the door assembly to the opening. In a wood frame house this is easy. In a situation where you have masonry or brick, it’s more difficult but you can usually find fasteners for the masonry. Not here. Because the wall was made of hollow brick masonry and plaster, the albanil goes at it with a hammer and the spikes/chisels, making 3 holes at each side of the door and one in the floor. They don’t put any protection on the floor so there’s dust, tile, plaster spraying everywhere. Next, with the door back, but not the guapo (he’s called away), the albanil places 7 anchors in the door frame – 4” steel serrated sticks that he nails into three places at each side of the door frame and one on the bottom of the frame. He has to hold with one hand and hammer with the other so I hold the door for him. After this he lays up the door to test if the anchor positions match the holes. Close enough, after a little adjustment with the mallet. Next the door is wedged in place and he mixes the grout/mortar. I’m wondering why he didn’t place mortar in the opening before the door is up but he’s got a plan, taking the palette knife, he flicks mortar into the holes a little bit at a time. It’s a slight backhanded motion, sort of like in ping-pong. There’s a distinct “splat” each time. Then he pushes more in to the gaps and smoothes it out. Next he starts to mortar the space between the finished frame and the plaster opening, but because this is a continuous slot he has to have something on the other side so that the mortar doesn’t just fall out. Here comes the scrap of wood. It’s straight but has some nails in it. No pliers, no claw hammer, so he uses the chisels to knock the nails back and forth, back and forth, then knocks them out. He goes inside the bathroom to place this piece of wood at the back of the gap but needs something to wedge it in place – the saw. But the saw is just not quite long enough so he takes some fragments of the plaster and tile and uses them to wedge the wood with the saw. More flinging and flicking, more mortar. Unfortunately, the scrap of wood is only about 3 feet long so he has to move it up because the gap between the door frame and the wall is as high as the door, about six and a half feet. Now here’s a conundrum, because there’s no way the saw and plaster shrapnel are going to wedge this thing in place four feet above the floor. I spot the leftover piece of wood from the door frame that was used to hold the frames stable (which was no longer necessary once the door was placed in the opening and grouted) and handed it to the albanil, for which he was grateful. Problem solved since this wood was the right length to wedge the other piece of wood at the opening. (Oh, the nails that held this strut wood to the door frame are not pulled out – no pliers – he just taps them back and forth until they bend enough and break and then taps the nib into the wood so they’ll rust with the water from the plaster). More plaster mixing (he mixes a new small batch with each step – I gave him a small plastic jug so he wouldn’t have to lift the plaster bucket into our 12” x 12” sink) and more flinging. The red tile floor is now looking pink and white where the mortar drops splatter and are rubbed into the floor. Okay, looking good. Door’s in, plaster’s in, now for the finish work while the guapo (who’s back) broom sweeps the floor. The albanil sponges the plaster to smooth it out, adds more plaster, feathering it over the existing, and in general does a very nice job. He’s a craftsman, there’s no doubt. They clean up as best they can (with a small dishtowel I gave them). It’s 3:45pm and they say they are going to get some lunch. Well deserved.
Of course, the door is not painted. Nor is there a door handle. You might recall that the reason this whole thing started was because our plastic accordion door was missing a handle/lock. Little bit of irony there.
The albanil fixes this by jamming in one of the extra serrated, 4-inch long masonry anchors into the little hole in the door where the door handle goes, tests it to see if the latch retracts when he twists the anchor. Voila! I come back with the stubby little flathead screwdriver and use that because the idea of a galvanized 4” piece of serrated metal sticking out of our bathroom door does not appeal to me. Seems to work fine, and it even covers the hole. Of course, we only have one screwdriver so you have to use it on one side to open the door, then bring it with you to the other side to close the door. Hey, it’s better than using your left big toe to jam closed a plastic accordion door, which is what I’ve been doing for the last 6 months.
They say they’ll call us to come back to install a door handle and paint, which makes sense because the plaster has to dry. It also has to crack because the wood door and frame will expand and contract differently from the plaster and brick wall. But this should match the Nile-shaped crack that runs in the adjoining wall so it’s all good. Gen and I have a wager going as to whether this door will actually get painted or receive a door handle.
Good times. Makes Aruba seem like high tech. There they had power tools. I wonder what would have happened here yesterday if it was the evening when it gets dark early. Might’ve lit a fire. That’s unfair, really, and a bit of cheap shot on my part. Because they really did a great job. It’s just that each step of the way caused more work – hollow masonry – chipping out for anchors - grout – flicking grout – filling cavities and gaps – feathering and sponging – massive clean up. I’ve seen guys in the states hang a door in 20 minutes.
Later that evening Gen and I are talking and she realizes as I describe the work that the tools they used were very similar to the ones we saw last Saturday when we visited El Escorial in the part of the museum dedicated to the history of the building. They had examples of the tools used to build this beautiful building 500 years ago. Iron mallets, chisels, spikes, saws. Not just similar – exactly the same.
Reminds me of a little story from Buenos Aires…
http://gs-sabbatical.blogspot.com/2007/01/construction.html
