Whatever was wrong with our living room floor, it wasn't termites. When the workers came in last week to pry off the tiles, we saw that there was concrete or plaster, or something similar, under the tiles.
This was our floor on Tuesday morning:
The workers removed the tiles wherever the floor was creaking and chipped away at the plaster underneath to smooth it out. I don't know if that will solve whatever caused the problem in the first place, but it fixes it enough for the few months we have left here.
On Wednesday afternoon our housekeeper greeted me with a very concerned look on his face. "There is a problem," he said and led me out to the porch. He was so serious that I expected to see some new, major damage that had been discovered. But instead he showed me some tiles that didn't match the original ones. The workers had broken some of the tiles in removing them and couldn't find exact matches. "Pas de problem!" I said. "No problem!" If the landlord doesn't care, then we don't. And they put most of the mismatched tiles under the carpet anyway leaving just a few visible.
They worked more quickly than I expected, too. They'd said it would take three days, maybe longer. It took four. I was quite surprised to come home to a complete living room on Thursday night.