8
Looking for an Apartment

I was glad I’d decided to stay in Loglandia and help BabyJane. I liked the Great City, which is a very pleasant city. I felt quite at home there. However, although it was very comfortable, the hotel was expensive. I had to look for an apartment. I bought a paper and looked at the flat advertisements. I wondered which district to live in.
The city comprises two parts, which are completely different from one another. The part northeast of the river is flat. The commercial district and the main shopping district are there. But there are elegant boulevards lined with trees, and there is a big park, Marx Park. Quine University, and the Archeological Institute are near the park.
Gentle Reader, you are probably assuming that Marx Park is called after Karl Marx, but that is not so. In fact, at the beginning of the present century, the world was ready for someone called Marx. You know how great events happen when the world is ready for them. For instance Newton and Leibniz both discovered the integral calculus at the same time. So, for most of the world, when the people heard of Karl Marx, they thought that he was the great event they had been waiting for. But the people of Xia were not interested in politics, and never heard of Karl Marx. Now in Loglandia, the Marx that represented the great change was Harpo Marx !! And in Loglandia, a Marxist is not a communist, but a person with a crazy sense of humour. You probably agree that it was only Loglandia that adopted the correct Marx.
Southwest of the river the land is hilly. Whorf Peak is there, and numerous smaller hills. On the hill known as Eaton Hill the streets are narrow and winding. Eaton Hill is a charming district.
I noticed one advertisement that said: “Modern, one brm flat. 5th flr. Balcony. Lift. Only 200 browns/month. Nr Sattley Circle. Ph: 551642.”
I looked at my city map. Sattley Circle was not far from the Archeological Institute.
I phoned the owner of the flat, a Mrs. Thatcher, and arranged to meet her at the flat at ten. The address was 285 Third Ring. I took the tram to Lukaszievicz Square, and there I boarded the underground for Sattley Circle.
That part of the city has several boulevards radiating from Chomsky Square, like the arms of a star. They are connected by three curved streets that have Chomsky Square as their centre. The Third Ring is the outermost of these.
Number 285 was a large building about 100 years old. I arrived at the flat and rang the bell. The door was opened by a lady “d’un certain âge”. She had bright blonde hair and was expertly made up. She was dressed in a pink silk gown.
“Hello, deary,” said Mrs. Thatcher, “Do come in.”
The flat looked very comfortable. The furniture was new and the walls were newly painted. But, oh my God, everything was pink. The walls were pink, the carpet was pink, the furniture was pink.
“Isn’t this the prettiest flat,” said Mrs. Thatcher. “And you won’t be lonely here, because I live upstairs, and I’ll come and see you a lot.”
To cut a long story short, I made excuses and left as soon as I could. I hate pink, and Mrs. Thatcher terrified me.
I went to a cafe and ordered coffee. I had another look in the newspaper, but there were no other interesting ads. I decided to phone Sally, who knew a lot of people in the Capital, and ask her about flats.
When I told her about Mrs. Thatcher, she laughed.
“Mrs. T. is famous,” she said. “Because young male students at the university rent her flat. It’s said they don’t actually pay rent. Anyway, you’re in luck, because Elvis is going to work abroad, and he’s leaving his flat.”
Elvis’ flat was on the other side of the river, near Eaton Hill. It was farther from the Archeological Institute than Mrs. T’s flat, but the underground went directly there.
I came out of the underground at Lewis Carroll Square, which is a small square with lots of small shops and restaurants. There were tables on the pavement outside the restaurants. The flat was on Babbage Street, on the corner of the square. I was very taken with the district, which I hadn’t seen before. Elvis’ flat was comfortable, and there was nothing pink, thank goodness.
Elvis said, “I hope you like the flat. It’s comfortable and cheap. But there’s one problem. Whoever rents it has to like dogs. I’ve got a dog, and I can’t take him abroad with me. I want him to stay here. Do you like animals?”
“Yes,” I said. “I’m very fond of them. What sort of dog?”
“He’s a Dunno.which.way, and his name is Hoover, because he eats anything he finds lying around.”
Elvis whistled, and a small black dog ran into the room. His long curly coat hung down to the floor all round him.
“Hello, Hoover,” I said. “Do you want me to live here?”
Hoover wagged either his tail or his head, who knows, and licked my hand.
Three days later, Elvis left, and I moved into the flat. I unpacked my few belongings and went out to explore the neighborhood with Hoover.
Elvis had trained Hoover to walk without a leash, and he walked beside me as good as gold. We went to the small park at the other end of Babbage Street. Hoover scampered happily around for a few minutes. Near a trash basket he found an ice-cream that someone had dropped, and ate it.
After Hoover had lifted his leg against a few trees, we went back to Lewis Carroll Square by a different route. In the square I sat down at one of the tables outside the White Rabbit Cafe, and ordered a beer. Hoover sniffed around the tables for crumbs. The waiter knew Hoover, and gave him a cake.
In the area around Lewis Carroll Square there live numerous artists, musicians and students, and the bars, cafes and restaurants are busy until late at night. At one end of the square there is a fountain decorated with the characters from Alice in Wonderland. That book is very popular with Loglandians. The Loglan translation is interesting. For example:

Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimbal in the wabe.