No matter where I go or how many times I walk up and down a the same streets I still find myself down paths and lane ways that I never intended to go. Having changed accommodation three times since being here, I have had to adjust to finding my way home on a regular basis.
The idea of a bunk bed never even entered my mind before I set off to Rome. Little did I know I would be hoisting myself up and down 10ft ladders on a nightly basis. I can finally reminisce on this story as I have now not only found an appropriate apartment, but one that I am delighted to come home to.
So, to start at the beginning, before I left it was agreed that I would be in a shared apartment with other Italians. When I arrived to Ciampino airport two weeks ago my landlord, who has previously been mentioned in my first post, kindly collected me and brought me to my first apartment.. his house.
This was figured out through broken conversation in his little red nissan, with his cute 4 year old son in the back. I thought 'grand, this will be fine, I'll be in a new apartment before the week is out - how wrong was I.
We arrived to his small apartment, which in all fairness was beautiful - There were 5 rooms in total: sitting room/dining room, cosy kitchen, main bedroom, main bathroom and 'kids room'. They were a very musical family and had a gorgeous piano in his sitting room with music by Bach and Debussy constantly echoing through it. Dark mahogany wooden floors ran throughout the small but bright rooms and he had a moderately sized balcony out the back filled with potted plants and herbs.
The idea of a bunk bed never even entered my mind before I set off to Rome. Little did I know I would be hoisting myself up and down 10ft ladders on a nightly basis. I can finally reminisce on this story as I have now not only found an appropriate apartment, but one that I am delighted to come home to.
So, to start at the beginning, before I left it was agreed that I would be in a shared apartment with other Italians. When I arrived to Ciampino airport two weeks ago my landlord, who has previously been mentioned in my first post, kindly collected me and brought me to my first apartment.. his house.
This was figured out through broken conversation in his little red nissan, with his cute 4 year old son in the back. I thought 'grand, this will be fine, I'll be in a new apartment before the week is out - how wrong was I.
We arrived to his small apartment, which in all fairness was beautiful - There were 5 rooms in total: sitting room/dining room, cosy kitchen, main bedroom, main bathroom and 'kids room'. They were a very musical family and had a gorgeous piano in his sitting room with music by Bach and Debussy constantly echoing through it. Dark mahogany wooden floors ran throughout the small but bright rooms and he had a moderately sized balcony out the back filled with potted plants and herbs.
Francesco showed me to the kids room, which was the connecting room from the main corridor of the house out to the balcony and told me to lay out my cases on his homemade 'couch', which was constructed from deconstructed wooden pallets - I had a feeling this man was nifty when it came to home 'creations'.
So, this kids room looked somewhat like a classroom for 4-6 year olds, the walls were full with numbers and animals and he had shelves and shelves of children's books. In terms of a bed, this was on top of the desk - when I was yonger this was exactly what I would long for out of the Argos catalogues, but now at 23 I wasn't so sure the idea of sleeping above your desk seemed so fun.
In all honestly this room would have been fine if it weren't a passage way out onto the garden, and it being the middle of October, almost everyday was a beautiful one and so the balcony was frequently visited. My bedroom door was wide open from 8am - 10pm every day, so the idea of one second of privacy was very very distant.
Another point that made this situation a little more uncomfortable was the fact that not only was I living with my landlord AND his two kids AND another american student, he and his two kids would sleep on a pullout couch in the middle of the sitting room while myself and the other student would sleep in their beds.
Thankfully, after 5 very long sleeps it was finally time to move into my new apartment, with no ladder to climb, more privacy and somewhere to unpack my things. This new apartment was two minutes around the corner from the original one in an area called Prati, and was also owned by Francesco. I moved on a Sunday morning and Francesco kindly helped me over to the apartment with my bags - he also needed to give the room a quick spring clean as the previous tenant just moved out the day before I could move in.
So, this kids room looked somewhat like a classroom for 4-6 year olds, the walls were full with numbers and animals and he had shelves and shelves of children's books. In terms of a bed, this was on top of the desk - when I was yonger this was exactly what I would long for out of the Argos catalogues, but now at 23 I wasn't so sure the idea of sleeping above your desk seemed so fun.
In all honestly this room would have been fine if it weren't a passage way out onto the garden, and it being the middle of October, almost everyday was a beautiful one and so the balcony was frequently visited. My bedroom door was wide open from 8am - 10pm every day, so the idea of one second of privacy was very very distant.
Another point that made this situation a little more uncomfortable was the fact that not only was I living with my landlord AND his two kids AND another american student, he and his two kids would sleep on a pullout couch in the middle of the sitting room while myself and the other student would sleep in their beds.
Thankfully, after 5 very long sleeps it was finally time to move into my new apartment, with no ladder to climb, more privacy and somewhere to unpack my things. This new apartment was two minutes around the corner from the original one in an area called Prati, and was also owned by Francesco. I moved on a Sunday morning and Francesco kindly helped me over to the apartment with my bags - he also needed to give the room a quick spring clean as the previous tenant just moved out the day before I could move in.
All excited at the prospect of finally feeling like I can call somewhere (temporary) home I rushed up the stairs to see the new place. Francesco opened the door and we were greeted by my new roommate, a very sweet 27 year old Italian girl, who has been living in the apartment for the last 5 years. As the door swung open I was immediately hit in the face with the stench of dense musky smoke, I stepped into the hallway but the choking oder just got worse. Francesco bounced into the new bedroom and whipped opened the windows and started to clean before I could say a word. I walked into the damp, clammy kitchen where an Italian man sat at the kitchen table rolling up several cigarettes. I sat down, trying not to inhale the smoke that was being puffed around me and politely made small talk while Francesco finished off organizing the room.
I quickly tried to tell Francesco that I had bad asthma and that this smoking would be a problem but he assured me that the other house mates wouldn't smoke in the apartment while I was there - I don't really think he was taking in anything that I was trying to convey to him, because he ran out of the apartment before I was finished speaking. As the door shut behind him I slowly walked into my new bedroom to take it all in - I must have been too focused on all the fumes and smoke talk to not realize what I was being left behind in. A tiny red desk in the middle of the room, computer chair beside it, large leather couch (which reeked of old coffee and yet more smoke) was situated... wait for it.. UNDER the bed!
I looked up, five or six metal beams held up several planks of wood which a mattress sat on top of - no doubt, again one of Francesco's handy works. I may be small, but by god this bed was in no way in arms reach when I was standing beneath it. To put this into perspective, I was 2/3 of the size of the door, the door frame didn't even come to the wooden base of the bed - and the ladder, the ladder was again self made, and at least 10ft or 11ft high.
I stood there in the middle of the room feeling sorry for myself and deliberated weather or not it was worth it to run after Francesco, after a quick minute of self loathing, I picked up my bag and decided to get out of there and clear my head for the day. Wandering the quirky streets of Rome and a gigantic glass of wine were the only things that were going to temporarily fix this problem.
I quickly tried to tell Francesco that I had bad asthma and that this smoking would be a problem but he assured me that the other house mates wouldn't smoke in the apartment while I was there - I don't really think he was taking in anything that I was trying to convey to him, because he ran out of the apartment before I was finished speaking. As the door shut behind him I slowly walked into my new bedroom to take it all in - I must have been too focused on all the fumes and smoke talk to not realize what I was being left behind in. A tiny red desk in the middle of the room, computer chair beside it, large leather couch (which reeked of old coffee and yet more smoke) was situated... wait for it.. UNDER the bed!
I looked up, five or six metal beams held up several planks of wood which a mattress sat on top of - no doubt, again one of Francesco's handy works. I may be small, but by god this bed was in no way in arms reach when I was standing beneath it. To put this into perspective, I was 2/3 of the size of the door, the door frame didn't even come to the wooden base of the bed - and the ladder, the ladder was again self made, and at least 10ft or 11ft high.
I stood there in the middle of the room feeling sorry for myself and deliberated weather or not it was worth it to run after Francesco, after a quick minute of self loathing, I picked up my bag and decided to get out of there and clear my head for the day. Wandering the quirky streets of Rome and a gigantic glass of wine were the only things that were going to temporarily fix this problem.
From the 1st day I arrived I had been constantly searching on easystanza.it, airbnb and kijiji.it, for other rooms incase this exact situation happened. That day, while I was in an Irish bar (The Abbey Pub - Via Governo Vecchio) watching Ireland defeat whales, I received a text from an Italian guy that I had contacted about his apartment. To turn my day around it luckily happened that he was in the same area as me and wanted to show the apartment that evening. Being utterly desperate to have as little sleeps in that smoke box as possible I immediately accepted his offer and arranged to meet him and see the apartment that evening. He kindly offered to collect me and drop me back home also - I know not very cautious of me but thankfully he turned out to be perfectly normal and incredibly sweet.
The apartment was in a quite residential neighborhood near Villa Alda. As soon as I saw the apartment I fell in love, it was big, bright and modern, did not smell of smoke and had not one bunk bed insight. After long tedious argumentative debates with Francesco I was fortunately able to retain some of the money for the rent and move straight into the new apartment after two nights.
So now I can finally say that I have found a place to call home for the foreseeable future. I live with two friendly and kind Italians, beside a big and beautiful park and I have finally been able to light my candles!
So now I can finally say that I have found a place to call home for the foreseeable future. I live with two friendly and kind Italians, beside a big and beautiful park and I have finally been able to light my candles!