Maybe it was overly optimistic of me to think I would get a flat in one day. I feel my courage and hope abandoning me a little, but I will try to get it back, cause I need to keep focus!
Maybe I never mentioned that I have a complete fear of phones. Not the phones themselves, but talking into them with people I don’t know. And to make the matter a little worse, in a language I don’t master. This has been an interesting day! I chose the ads that had photos of flats that looked ok and picked up all my courage and my topped-up mobile phone to start the job.
Some didn’t answer, some I could not communicate with at all, some were far from nice on the phone and a very few gave me a more or less good feeling! So in the end, I have gone from 21 to 5 flats. (Yes, I actually struggled my way through a total of 21 phone-calls! I really do deserve some comfort-chocolate or something…) I have already seen two of those 5 and I will see two more tomorrow and the last one (typically the one I like the most) is not available for seeing until 3 days time. He couldn’t even specify when, but said “at leeeeeast not until Thursday”.
Common for all of the people I have talked to, is the reluctance (or possibly lacking ability) to speak English, so I have had to manage with my Very Limited Spanish. Which must be just as frustrating for those having to speak with me, as for myself.
The first flat was a Big Disappointment. With Capital Letters. How and where that photo in the ad was taken is still a mystery to me.
The location was fab. And the rent too. Maybe that should have been my warning. Is there such a thing as a fab location at a fab price? Naïve Norwegian as I am, I thought “what a catch”. Yes, exactly, there had to be a catch hadn’t there.
The flat was dark, dirty and filled with stale smell of cigarette-smoke hitting as a wall when entering. The free room was tiny and dark, the kitchen had a big exposition of empty one-liter-bottles of beer, more than I could count, the sofa was actually just pillows on the dirty carpet that was stainy and full of dog-hair. I asked if they had a dog (thinking it could be my quick exit by saying I was allergic to dodgs), and the Spanish guy who was home alone at the moment told me that they didn’t but that the guy that lived there before did. Ah, ok. So they haven’t heard of cleaning then or what?
I had seen enough, found an excuse to get out of there as quick as I could. He said I could have the room and I told him politely that I would think about it. Let’s say I was happy and relieved to be out in the fresh air and sunny streets again (if not fresh air in the definition we use up north, but still.)
I won’t bore you with the story of the second flat, let’s just say that it wasn't anything to brag about.