The things you take for granted

Our new host in Barcelona and I walked through her apartment as she gave me the tour and house rules.

When we reached the only bathroom in the house, she got a pained look on her face.

"Prior guests broke the toilet, which we found out earlier today. We have ordered a new part but it will not be here until tomorrow. I hope this will not be a problem."

The pained look in her face intensified.  I think she knew this would be a problem.

I asked what options there were for facilities.  She offered a red mop bucket.  Then, I asked where were the closest facilities if there was an emergency at night?  Again, she indicated the red mop bucket.

We had arrived around 7pm and were pretty much locked in to this place for the night.  She had given us no warning about this problem, nor had she prepared any back-up options.

Now that we knew there was no working toilet, everyone immediately felt as if they needed one (except Lanna, of course, who continued to joyfully fill her diaper at will).

We decided to go out for dinner (which had been the original plan anyway) and avail ourselves to the facilities there and hope the rest of the night was uneventful.

The apartment was near the eastern part of Barcelona near the beaches.  We walked down the little Rambla, a wide walkway in the center of the street crammed with people at tables for the plethora of restaurants in the area.

It was a lively scene and we settled on a very good restaurant focused on fresh, sustainable produce.  The waiter appeared to be very new, so we had quite some time to sit and enjoy the atmosphere.

Lanna found their display of pumpkins, cabbage, pineapples and carrots amazing!

As a side note, this was also the last night of Barcelona's Le Merce festival.  This is an entertaining annual event that spans 5 days and culminates with an amazing fireworks show!
http://www.barcelona-tourist-guide.com/en/events/la-merce/barcelona-la-merce.html

We walked down to the beach to see the fireworks.  They were mostly obscured since they were closer to the city center but we heard the reverberating blasts clearly.  We had talked up the fireworks on the drive to Barcelona but after the initial salvos, the boys were pretty uninterested.

Fortunately the night was uneventful beyond that and the next morning our host arrived promptly 15 minutes late.

She and her colleague struggled with the toilet as we sat in the apartment, waiting to find out if things could be salvaged.  We told her that if the toilet could not be fixed, then we could not stay there.

After an hour and some frequent muttering Spanish echoing down the hallway, our host called another person in to help.

At this time, nature called, and we had to leave the apartment.  Our host let me know she would call when the issue was resolved.

The morning was crisp and a bit chilly with the Mediterranean Sea air blowing up the Rambla.  The beach had some vendors out and some veteran beach goers enjoying the sun and sand.  The views up towards the city and out to the sea were beautiful.

After noon, I got a call from our host.  The toilet was fixed!  Huzzah!

We headed back and stocked up at the supermarket.

Once we got back, Joey immediately tested the toilet.

It failed the test.

Now I'm no plumber, but I feel I know enough about toilets to try to fix this myself.  That was brought to a screeching halt when the top lid could not be removed.  The button to flush the toilet (the one that didn't work at all) was tightly locked to the top.  I didn't force it for fear of making it worse.

Immediately that sickening sensation of a broken home washed over us.  It's similar to the feeling you have when you see a friend who came back from some travels, give them a big hug and ask, "So how was the trip?"  And they answer, "It was amazing!  Aside from the last hotel when we all got bedbugs."

The crawling, uncomfortable sensation returned.  With it came anger and a bit of worry.

I called our host.  She was shocked to hear the toilet was not working.  She regretfully told me she would not be able to return until tomorrow to fix it.  She asked if I had tried.  I told her I had.  She offered nothing else, not even an apology.

Alisa immediately launched into action!

She checked multiple sites and multiple listings.  She fired off emails faster than a Nigerian Prince asking for money.

While Alisa focused on finding new housing, I took the kids down to the pool.  Joey and Sammy enjoyed running through the kiddie pool while Lanna crawled all over the pool deck.

Within a few hours Alisa had found several options but none really close to Barcelona and we settled on a little beach town called Castelldefels, about 25 minutes south of Barcelona.

I let our host know that we had to leave given the lack of a functional toilet.

The car was again packed up (no small undertaking) and we left.

As we walked into the new apartment, Alisa walked right into the bathroom, pushed the button, and was rewarded with the beautiful sound of water flushing.

EPILOGUE:  We did inform AirBnB about this situation once we were settled in Castelldefels.  We requested a full refund.  They were prompt and thorough, calling both me and the host to obtain our reports.

This episode eroded our faith in humanity a bit.  When I talked with the AirBnB representative a second time, he said, "Do you have any documentation?  Your story and the host's story are quite different.  She tells us the toilet was working when you arrived and that it broke this morning.  She says you left before she had a chance to come and fix it.  She also refuses to give you any refund for your 4 day booking."

Fortunately, Alisa had reminded me to get documentation.  I had extensive video of the toilet, inability to fix it ourselves, and the red mop bucket.

This documentation was vital.  AirBnB sided with us.  Not only did they provide us a full refund but they also gave us a credit for the next time we booked with AirBnB.