Idas y Vueltas

Chronicle of an apartment search in Madrid

September 25, 2008 at 5:31 am | Posted in la vida, Real-life adventures | 3 Comments
Tags: conociendo Madrid

I got to Spain on Wednesday, Sept. 17 at 7:45 in the morning. Luckily, Jaime was waiting for me in the airport, and he helped me transport my luggage to the hostal I had booked on the internet.

Straight from there, after having traveled 19 hours to get from Tennessee to Madrid by way of DC and Philly, I bought a newspaper and started looking for apartments. I already had two appointments to visit places that day — citas I had arranged via internet before leaving Knoxville. I quickly realized my 2 euros spent on the newspaper had been a waste, as there were no individual rooms advertised, only entire pisos. I needed the internet.

After scouring Craig’s List-type pages like Loquo and Idealista, I came up with a couple more possibilities and called the contact numbers to set up more citas. Even though I speak Spanish comfortably, talking on the phone complicates matters quite a bit, as you don’t have the aid of gestures and facial expressions. Calling complete strangers to ask to come see their apartment was even more nerve-wracking, and I wondered how people who didn’t speak Spanish were able to find a place to live.

The first cita was a bust. It was a tiny room in a tiny piso with three trabajadores (workers) for 380 euros (about $570). I only met one of the roommates, but she could have been my mother. I tried to look around the whole place to feign interest, and told her I had her number and I’d call her if I decided to take it. Then I got outta there.

The next couple of places I looked at were similarly sketchy and in the same price range. One was in a weird, hostel-like place with a bunch of foreign students and travelers. It seemed like the girl who showed me around rented out the entire building, as she kept showing me more rooms when I voiced one complaint or another. She was charging too much for what she was offering, and I felt like it was a scam for foreigners in a hurry to find something, or unable to speak Spanish to look for something better.

At this point, I was starting to freak out a little. I realized my original precio maximo of 350 euros  ($525) with gastos incluidos (expenses included) was not going to fly, at least not in the area where I wanted to live. This was not Granada, where you can find a nice place to live for less than 200 euros ($300).

The next day, I got up early and started the process all over again. This time, I saw more no-no’s: a room in the house of two grandparents (they had to be at least 80), with no internet and I’m pretty sure no rights to the kitchen or living room. On the up side, the location was ideal, and it only cost 330 euros ($495), everything included. I said no, thank-you and bye-bye.

The second place I saw was getting closer — a pleasant room with a window in the house of an Argentinian couple that rents out two rooms to students. The woman seemed nice, and the house was livable overall. But it still wasn’t the young, social atmosphere I was looking for. I put it on the “maybe” list and kept looking.

Next, I visited an apartment where five Spanish guys already lived. The people were open and friendly, and they made it clear that they were looking for someone who would integrarse (integrate themselves) into the buen rollo (good atmosphere) of the piso. That aspect I liked because I was also looking to make friends, but the place itself was kind of dirty, and they seemed like big partiers. What’s more, they needed someone to stay until July, and that would leave me with two extra months to pay without actually living there. No, thanks, boys.

On day three (or was it four?), I came oh-so-close to signing a lease. It was a shared apartment with students — two Spaniards (including one from the Canaries!) and two Italians. The room was bright and sunny, and the location was sweet. The price, however, was a little less sweet at 440 whopping euros ($660), or about three-quarters of my monthly grant money. But I liked the place and was sick of looking, so I told the man I’d take it. He gave me a list of rules and regulations to look at and sign while he left to go show some other students a different piso that he owned in the same building.

This is when things started to get scary. Included among the rules was one that said overnight visitors had to pay 30 euros ($45) per night. Also, people were not allowed to come eat with us, and the landlords had keys to the apartment and would enter every day at various times. I called him on that one, and he said it was just to see that the cleaning had been done…riiight, I wasn’t liking the sound of this. The last straw happened when I said I’d talked to the other landlord, and she’d assured me that I could rent the room until June without a problem. He called her and said that, actually, I’d have to stay through July. I gave him back the rules and regulations and ran away fast. He was pissed, but I was relieved.

This is when I started thinking about the room in the Argentinians’ house again. It had been the best I’d seen, and I was OVER wasting money on calling people and time on seeing roach hotels. Plus, sleeping on the sofa bed was getting old. I called the couple that afternoon and told them I’d take it. I didn’t actually sleep there for another couple of days, however, as Jaime and I were staying with his sister while he was visiting.

The day I did move in, I met the Portugese student who occupied the other student room. And just a few minutes after that first encounter, he started poisoning my mind…

 

To be continued…