DUWO refugees

"And this clause in the DUWO contract that says you can't have any overnight guests, do they actually check on that?"
"Don't pay any attention to DUWO, they're pricks." replied Owen.

And this was my introduction to Delft's own student housing society as I spoke to one of last year's exchange students. So it was with apprehension that I approached their imposing building on Kaanalweg, one of Delft's more expensive streets. Mighty DUWO, with their stranglehold on the student housing in Delft.

Entering the building I had my first brush with their 'satisfied' customers. Walking through the foyer I passed fifty or so depressed, unhappy, filthy, tired looking young people with copious amounts of luggage. It was like a refugee camp. As I breezed through the middle of them to the V.I.P meeting room I felt their blank stares, devoid of all hope, turn to follow me.

Arriving en masse, the Ontwerpen exchange students had privileged standing and got to sit in comfort in the conference room while we signed our papers and collected our keys. It all seemed suspiciously civilised, but Owen's warnings echoed in my mind.

Later we had a student party, and with all the socialising and free beer available I didn't head to my room until about 7:30. Looking forward warmly to the prospect of finally unpacking my suitcase so I could actually remember what was in it. So I dragged my luggage up the two flights of stairs, walking down the corridoor, and turned my key in the door.

"Ummm....okay."

There was nothing in it. Nice room...... but not a stick of furniture. Not a bed, not a fridge, not even a light globe. DUWO was conveniently shut for the whole weekend. And their emergency number yielded only a startled caretaker with expertise in fixing plumbing and heating failures. What do you do in this situation? Wait for a fairy godmother to appear and solve the problem? My fairy godmother was still at the university, but would not be for long. I sprinted back.

"Janneke, I have no furniture."
"Oh."
Apparantly this had never happened before. But Janneke called her husband who promptly delivered an airbed and a sleeping bag, and just for good measure Janneke bestowed upon me all the leftover food from the student party. The prospect of vegemite sandwiches on stale bread yawned before me.
That night as I curled up on my airbed in one corner of my empty room it dawned upon me; I too had become a DUWO refugee.