Got up, with a little difficulty, in time for checkout. I’d gotten a call the day before from Andres, the owner of my supposed apartment-to-be. A bit hungover, and underestimating the time it would take me to get my stuff in Nunoa and return to the centre, I was late. I messaged Andres to inform him, and he in turn messaged me that he’d be late, and it all wound up being a lot of waiting.
However, it was well worth it. The building was actually one I’d visited and enquired about during my walking tour of the city a few days earlier. Superbly located, right in the centre between Bellas Artes and Plaza de Armas metro stations, but a little north of the downtown core where I hoped there’d be a little less constant activity so that I could get a little rest when needed.
Andres, a nice guy who insisted on using his perfect english most of the time, finally arrived and gave me the grand tour of the building. Entrance, bicycle parking, laundromat, terrace on the roof with incredible view, pool and gym… wow.
Finally, we came into the small apartment. Perfect! A nice kitchenette, two beds, a table, a bathroom… pretty much everything I could possibly need during the month.
Andres had forgotten the contract we were supposed to sign, which made me suspicious again, but sent me an “email receipt” for the rent. When he gave me the keys and finally left, I was happy and relieved. This was the cheapest apartment I’d found, and yet it was perfect and, most importantly, perfectly located.
I headed down to the Santa Isabel, the nearest supermarket only three blocks away, got some supplies and had a relaxed celebration in my new home.
