This afternoon, I finally managed to see the flat that the school (where I have been studying Spanish) has found me. The woman spoke no English, and my Spanish is still crap at best! The room is 650 a month, which I know is top dollar (or euro...), so I was expecting something really high quality. I could have done with saving the money but I need somewhere to live pronto so I thought I would only rent it for the first month.
With the idea that I would be taking the flat pretty much whatever happened, I went upstairs. The living space was tiny and the room I was looking at was tiny with a single bed and a wardrobe with a broken door. One of the girls who lived there took me to see the balcony, and told me that she paid her school 450 a month to live there. Her room was huge with a double bed. I had already decided not to take the room, but the fact that she paid so much less sealed my resolve. With a cold feeling of dread in the pit of my stomach, I left.
I got home, completely demoralised, had a short (but intense) cry to myself, and then started phoning numbers on adverts I found on the internet.
It’s truly amazing how many people say the room is full as soon as you start speaking English. I can understand that people have had bad experiences with foreigners, but I am a really kind and considerate person who just needs somewhere to live! How I long to be able to speak Spanish competently! How much easier life would be if I spoke the same language as the majority of people in this city!
What am I going to do? How could I have allowed this to happen?
Yet again, Mirta came to my rescue, phoning numbers and using local websites and lettings that I hadn't even heard of. She came across a room which is vacant for two months in an area called Arguelles (which is where Beth lives) with two Spanish girls. I'll go to see it on Saturday, but I'm pretty desperate. How bad can it be?
God bless you Mirta!
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