We have a maid? We have a maid.

I've never had a maid before (though I suppose there was a time when I thought my mother was assigned that role) and neither has Sherry. Early in January we were actually surprised to learn that weekly maid service was part of our contract with our rental apartment. (Apparently it pays to read the fine print.) There wasn't any additional charge; it was covered in our rental agreement.

I thought maid service meant general cleaning around our small apartment and was surprised to find that she, or he, had actually washed all the dishes we left out one day. And... had done the laundry of a pile of clothing we left on the floor. And, this person, our maid, was deciding where things should go. In those early days it became a guessing game to discover where the salt shaker, or my tooth paste, or the power adapter for the computer had been placed by our maid. Over time we figured out the logic.



Our maid is a wonderfully nice woman named Vilma (pronounced Beel-mah). We met her, by accident as it turned out, very early in our BA experience. She doesn't speak English, and at the time our Argentine Spanish wasn't quite up to the high level it is today. On that day voice levels increased dramatically, as if talking louder improved understanding.

This morning we met with Vilma again, and this time for the last time. Our Spanish, or perhaps Sherry's, was much better and Vilma was used to the two Canadians at Sinclair 3177. At least I hope she thinks we are Canadian and not the other thing.

There were thank yous, and hugs, and if I'm not mistaken,
an invitation to return to Vilma's nation anytime.
We will miss our apartment in BA. We will miss the maid service.
We will miss Vilma.