Hello Togo!: A True Story

When I first permanently arrived at post, I decided to repaint the walls in my house because they were badly in need of a new paint job. Upon mentioning this to my landlord, he offered to seek out the village painter to come do the work for me. Even after I insisted that I could do the job myself - and actually preferred to do so in order to save some money - he continued to urge me to at least get the painter's opinion on how much paint I would need for the job. As I'd painted many a room before, I already had an idea of how much I would need, but it seemed as if it was going to hurt his pride if I refused again, so I agreed to meet with the painter.

The painter showed up the following day when the landlord wasn't there; he was an elderly man of few words, but who was clearly honored and content that the village YOVO had called on him for advice. I showed him into my kitchen/living room where he stood for a solid minute, "hmmmm"ing and scratching his chin as he looked around. I told him the other room was absolutely identical to this one, but he wanted to see it anyways, and there again he entered into a deep train of thought. When he appeared to have finished thinking, I asked him, "So how much paint do you think I'll need?", to which he replied, "Well I'd rather wait until the landlord comes back to discuss that since he was the one who told me to come here". Not quite understanding his logic, I felt mildly irritated - especially because all of this seemed unnecessary in the first place. But I bit my tongue and suggested he come back in the evening, when the the landlord would be there.

After dinner the painter came back, when the landlord and I happened to be chatting together under the gazeebo. After finishing the normal lengthy salutations, the landlord sat down in a diplomatic fashion and proceeded to recount in detail the entire situation (regardless of the fact that all parties present were well informed): specifically - how I had approached him about painting, how he had asked the painter to come, how the painter had showed up in his absence, how the painter had left and then come back, and now we were all here awaiting his advice.

The following was the real conversation I then had with the painter:

K: So how much paint do you think I need?
P: Well ... it depends
K: (confused because he had already seen the size of the rooms - I thought that was the entire point) Depends on what?
P: Well what color are you going to paint the rooms?
K: With all due respect sir, I don't understand what difference the color would make on how much paint I need.
P: It's just that - while you said you know how to paint, I'm worried that they might do things differently in America than they do here.
K: Ok well how about I tell you what we do in America and you can tell me if it's the same thing here.
P: Oh excellent!
K: Ok - well in America, we determine how much paint we need based on the size of the room, then we buy that amount in white paint, and then we mix in the desired color.
P: (clapping his hands and exclaiming to the landlord) She really does know how to paint!
K: Thank you. So according to your expertise, how much paint do you think I should get?
P: Well that depends.
K: (sigh) On what?
P: Well you see, the amount of paint you need depends on how many coats you want.
K: (growing impatient now) Yes I know that - but can you at least just give me a general idea of how much paint I'd need to do just one coat?
P: Well I don't think I'd be comfortable doing that.
K: Why not?
P: I wouldn't want you to blame me if it was too much or too little.
K: (clenching my hands together out of frustration, I stared at him at a complete loss for words, not believing how ridiculous this conversation was. He sat there, his hands folded in his lap, perfect posture, smiling and blinking back at me. How could it be that I was so irritated with such a cute old man? Finally I said:) Ok (long sigh to calm myself) How about: I'll get the amount that I think will suffice, and if I run into any problems, I'll come to you for advice.
P: Oh wonderful! Yes I'd be happy to help you out with anything you need>
Landlord: (clapping his hands together) Fantastic! I'm glad this worked out so well!

And so I ended up buying the amount of paint I needed based on my own judgment - which was precisely what I had planned on doing in the first place. I later found out that the village painter was titled such, not because he had been trained in the profession, but because, years ago, he had been the one hired to whitewash the village elementary school.

This is what my house looked like before (photo taken during post visit)