Praise the Lord, I have a new apartment. After visiting more than 15 places on my second round of Idealista-hunting, the overly efficient Spanish equivalent of Craigslist apartment listings, I was similarly disillusioned the first time I had done it. There's simply too much demand for the supply and thank God Madrid landlords all failed economics class because instead of raising the prices, they'd rather just interview 20 candidates for every newly available room.

But I didn't find my new one on Idealista. I was jogging through the Lavapiés and La Latina neighborhood, and I noticed two newly posted apartment signs on a lamp post. One for a bedroom in the area and the other for an entire apartment. I tore off the phone number from both of them and waited until I got home to call. I called for the bedroom first. The lady had a South American accent, likely Chilean, and seemed rather annoyed that I was calling. She spoke very slowly, told me she was proud I was a worker and not a student, and then continued to bitch at me for how many handsome boys come to her apartment. Or something like that. It was weird. Then she hung up.

I then called the second number, an entire apartment in La Latina. It cost 550 Euros, before bills, which, as someone who makes 1000 a month, was out of my price range. But I figured that if it's an entire apartment, I could share it with my friend Carla who was similarly desperate for a place. I made an appointment for that day and went over there. I had to pick up a book my friend Agustín got for me, and he lived 5 minutes from the apartment I was visiting. On my way over, I realized that I didn't check how many bedrooms were in the ad. I walked over to the post and saw there was only one. Damn it. I continued to walk over to Agustín's place. Maybe he could convince me to continue with my futile mission.

I showed up at his place, a small but cozy apartment he shared with his girlfriend. He gave me his book, and I related to him my predicament. He said he'd come with me. He thought it was too cheap for a neighborhood that nice, so it might be a piece of shit, but he was curious. We came in. There was a big living room with an adjacent bedroom that had no windows. The kitchen's floorspace was narrow but with ample counterspace. The bathroom connected to it, and it was tiny. It had a stove and no oven, and the place was pretty dirty, but not in the way my previous apartment had been. More just a lot of dust and barely visible decaying matter, typical of apartments that haven't been lived in for a while.

That being said, all of it was remediable. I could clean it. A permanent problem was that the windows in the living room and kitchen faced into the interior courtyard on the second floor of a tall building, which means that while there was a window, not much sun would be visible. But hell, my last place didn't even have a window. Agustín liked the place. It was uncomfortable for me because the understanding was that I'd decide immediately. I'd had the good fortune to find an ad the same day it was posted but the price that it carried was that I needed to decide immediately. The landlady was nice and saw that overall I liked the place but that I wanted to wait until morning to fully decide. On our way out, I sweated when I noticed a couple was visiting right after us.

I was more hesitant than Agustín, who quite liked the place. And I liked his sense of style. Maybe he was onto something. With all my bills, I'd have to pay almost 70% of my paycheck. But unlike a lot of Spaniards, I actually had a paycheck. I was also visiting other studios that would've cost 60% of my paycheck, and they had the kitchen, bathroom, and bed all in the same room with no doors and no windows and in shitty neighborhoods. I was willing to risk sharing an apartment again, but I couldn't persuade any place to choose me over 30 other candidates. I felt like I was betting green on every Roulette wheel spin of apartment visits, and November was almost over which meant that if I didn't find a place, I'd be stuck in my pigsty until February. (Who wants to live in an apartment only for the month of January?) Also, considering I was eating out so much because the kitchen was literally too disgusting to cook anything in, those costs would equal out anyway (Spanish groceries are mercifully cheap).

Agustín was imploring me more and more to get the place. But what about my deposit? Well, my deposit says I get it back if I find a new tenant to replace me. That can't be that hard, based on my experience. But is the place really worth it or am I just desperate? Well, it's only for me, I don't need a big bathroom. And hey, the bed is Queen size. Not a bad trade-off. Agustín was even willing to clean the place for me for too little (I negotiated 5 Euros an hour... they should elect me President). And he was a neat freak, I knew he'd really get out the grime. What about the year-minimum contract? Agustín told me that according to Spanish law, if you leave before your six months are up, they're legally bound to give you the deposit back. Shit, I wish I knew that earlier.

We went back to his place to have a drink. We asked his girlfriend what she thought of my situation. I described to her the apartment and its price and she said, "What are you fucking crazy? Get it! Don't deal with roommates anymore, it's not worth it." Agustín said he wouldn't think about it anymore and just call the lady tonight, at 10pm. I paced more and thought about it. At this point, I realized the pros outweighed the cons. I called the place and reserved it. By the end of the week, I had a new apartment.

Of course, I still had to go to my rental agent and tell him I deserved my deposit back. (I asked him about a month ago what would happen if I left early, and he said I wouldn't get it back. Now that he realized I can also read Spanish, maybe he'd double back on what he said earlier.) I was quite nervous and worried my spiel wouldn't work, but not only did he say I'd get my deposit back, it'd be fine even if I wasn't the one to find a replacement. The catch: I don't get my deposit back until the new tenant moves in. I don't think he's pushing terribly hard to find a new person (e.g., he hasn't put up a new Idealista ad, he just hasn't taken off the old one), so that makes me nervous, but we'll see. I don't want to put a new ad up myself, lest he think I'm trying to compete with him or something ridiculous.

Agustín has already been in my new place, and we rearranged the furniture for two hours in the search for the perfect Spanish feng shui. Rather brilliantly, he decided to move my sofa to a side wall and place an extra twin mattress that was in the place where the sofa was before. Put some throw pillows behind it, and you have, as he put it, a "chill out" zone with two sofas. The curtains were quite ugly, but we found an extra one that looked better and rearranged them to a satisfying end. He also brilliantly suggested that all the furniture, textiles, etc. be red and green. When I bought new sheets, I made sure they were red and green. It's a little Christmas-y, but who doesn't like Christmas?

I still need to put up my posters and other decorations, but now I have a base to live life like a normal human being. And that's more than I had before.