mi busqueda por habatacion

Finding a place to live in September in Madrid is not fun. All the university and Eramus students are doing the same thing. And like anywhere else, you have to see more than a few bad ones before finding the one you'll call home.

The first one I saw, I actually liked and got along with the roommates, a gay Spanish Boy and a not sure what sexuality Spanish girl. It was cheap, in a good location for my commute to school. But someone had told me not to take the first place I saw. So I said I would call them the next day.

The next day, I saw a few more. The first was about the size of a closet and had a random guy who came once a week or so to crash on the sofa. No view, nothing. And a pretty bad commute to work. Plus, we'd have to move out at the end of December. No thanks.

The second place was pretty far out there with an amazing view of the mountains north of Madrid but in another closet with a light that didn't work and with a roommate in his 40s who was definitely creepy. Um. No.

So I called the first place back about five minutes too late to get the original room. I wanted to cry. La noche en blanco started out depressing for me as a result.

However, that night, I decided to see another place at 1 a.m., which is the equivalent of 9 p.m. anywhere else. They were looking for a gay-friendly English speaker, and they had a nice room right near Tribunal metro for dirt cheap. Direct metro to school and stuff. I buzzed to come in, and they let me in. I climbed two flights of stairs and saw an extremely beautiful guy walk out of a dimly lit room, bleeding profusely but smiling. I knocked. I heard a American southern accent drawl "Eric, honey, wahld you mahnd gatthing that for mah?" "No problem, Bill, dear." A blonde Swedish man...well, man is the wrong word here...opened the door with blood dripping from his mouth.

Despite my fascination with vampires, I kindly retreated as quick as possible.

Sunday I went to a place where the landlord was channeling an early 90's power builder and chewed gum obnoxiously. One of the rooms was inhabited by a kid, and I have to wonder...did this guy recently leave his wife because he realised he was gay? What's the story here?

Another flat...the roommates were too quiet to talk, to say a word.

And they're all blurring together now to the point I can't really remember them. I found a place to stay until the 1, but I'm actually wanting to be back in the hostel. I feel somewhat uncomfortable, can't explain it.

Monday was another 40 year old creepy guy who didn't speak and let the landlord do all the doing (him I got along with).

And Tuesday...Tuesday I got a random email from an auxiliar who knew two teachers looking for a roommate. The place is a bit out there, but I fell in love with it. And my future roommates seem awesome, which I think is important. If you're going to live with someone, there should be friendship and you should be able to get along with them. It makes life a lot easier. It's a bit more than I wanted to pay, but I'm going to live well with things like internet and heat and in a flat without mold...my room is almost as big as my flat was last year, and it's for as much as a closet goes for in centro Madrid.

So...now that's done. This week? Orientation and my first day of work...then a three day weekend.

Current Music: Paparazzi by Lady GaGa

Note: One of these flats was made up. I'll let you guess which one.