The Return

My return to Santiago was happy, yet immediately stressful. After a month away, I walked into my apartment and found everything in disorder, while two of my roomates maniacally scrubbed the bathroom and kitchen. I half expected this, knowing beforehand that I would have exactly two days to move all my shit out before turning in the keys.

Some background: I had planned to put the apartment lease in my name upon my return. I love Barrio Brasil, and the apartment was nice yet cheap. Two of my roomates were returning to France, and the other Chilean roomate had been looking for a place to live solo even before I left. However, the corredora asked me for things she never asked my roomate (documents, salary, etc.), so I moved on to Plan B and asked a friend of mine if she would like to search for a place with me upon our return to Chile.

I didn't realize at the time that the corredora's requirements were "conversable," and after asking my concerge if I was "confiable," she was suddenly willing to renegotiate the terms. But I had already made my decision, and I didn't feel like dealing with a corredorra who did business like capricious car salesman (little did I realize at the time that they're ALL like that.) So that was that.

With E.'s help, I crammed all my things into a bodega and moved into a hostal for a week. That was hellish, to say the least. Why?

1. I specifically chose a place with WiFi so I could apartment search on Emol, VivaStreet, etc. However, due to the bizarre connection, I could only access Gmail and Facebook. Wtf??

2. I was reminded of Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs, the pyramid that lists basic needs at the bottom and thus necessary to achieve more abstract needs, such as love and happiness. Perhaps an exagerrated comparison, but being "homeless" and paying 16 luca a day to keep a roof over my head were preventing me from concentrating on anything else. I was in a constant frenzy.

3. After a month of being apart, E. and I couldn't have sleepovers. =(

4. The apartment searching itself sucked: furiously looking through newspaper ads, online classifieds, and walking around Santiago more than I care to admit while trying to spot "Arriendo" signs and chatting up concerges for info.

So that weekend I took E. and his family up on their offer to stay with them in their home. They live in a smaller town outside Santiago, about 20 minutes away by colectivo. It was only supposed to be for a weekend, but I was convinced to stay another week. I felt like I might be imposing, but they were quite adamant that staying with them was the best (and most economical) option I had until I found a place. "Puedes quedarte aqui y buscar tranquilita!" E.'s mom had told me. Plus, it was like having the immersion/home stay experience I never had! I learned a lot about E.'s family after hours of lunches and once's. E.'s mom made some great food, showing me a thing or two in the kitchen, and was always offering me fruit and tea between meals. His dad even offered to be my "aval" or co-signer, since most apartments that I found require this, and I am eternally grateful.

All in all, staying with E. and his family was a great experience, and by the end of that second week I had a found a place and moved in.