Part II: How We Came to the Gran Via

Today - part two of my "moving" trilogy.

or

"From Tundra to Playa."

For those of you asking, “Why is he writing this?” The answer is - I don’t know. Maybe just because it was a big even in my life and I want to remember it. Perhaps I am working through the trauma in preparation of moving again this summer. I promise I will try to refrain from turning my blog into a one year delayed journal of 2007. Although that might be interesting.

After the first half of our move, everything except the 100 pounds we were taking with us in our suitcases was stored away here in Minnesota. We arrived in Barcelona and began the second part of the move - finding a place to live in what has to be one of the most over-crowded cities in Europe.

Those first few days in Barcelona were some of the more adventuresome we had in our six month stint in Europe. We had no idea what we were doing. I came very close to going down to the front desk at the hotel we stayed at the first night, and embarrassing myself by asking, "how do we turn the lights on?" Turns out you had to slide your room-card-key into a slot in the wall to activate the electricity in the room. Getting around was a major hassle. We were not aware of how affordable the taxis in Barcelona are so we hauled our stuff around Barcelona on the public transport system, which was great, albeit crowded.

We spent the first night at a cozy but nice hotel. I liked it. It had the nicest bathroom I ever saw in Spain.

Next we moved to a hostel near the Plaza Catalunya in the heart of the city. It was difficult to even know where to begin. Being completely lost, I went and spoke with a very helpful woman at the University about finding a place to live. She called a guy she knew who rents apartments to see if he had anything available. He did. It wasn’t much but was better and cheaper than the “Backpacker’s House” hostel we were staying in. At the time, we were pretty appalled at the hostel. Looking back, it wasn’t that bad. It's funny how travel can change one's perspective. At the time we were desperate to leave the hostel and even though it meant another across town trip with our 100 pounds of luggage on the public transportation system, we were thrilled to have found a temporary apartment. This first apartment in Spain was called “El Chiquito.” For those of you who don’t “hablo espanol”, that means, the Chiquito. Sorry, bad unoriginal joke – just couldn’t help it. Here are some pics:

Perhaps you can see why it’s called “el chiquito.” The above photos are of the bedroom, living room kitchen, and water heater.

We loved the neighborhood, and enjoyed the time we spent there but, but it was just a wee bit small, had no windows, and just wouldn't work to try and live in for six months. We looked hard for another apartment; with little luck. Fortunately, the extremely helpful woman from the University who helped us find el chiquito was also looking. She found an add in the Spanish equivalent of Craig’s list and forwarded it.

That’s how we ended up finding our place on the Gran Via de les Cortes Catalanes. The street was as big and as important as its name indicates. Our apartment was great. It had a small cave-like bedroom, and a combined kitchen and living room. The kitchen part of the room was pretty limited. It did not include water – for that we had to go to the bathroom, which came equipped with a small dishwasher. The terrace overlooking the Gran Via more than made up for the no water however. Ahhh, I could wax nostalgic about it for hours but won’t - for now. Check the photos:

It doesn't look like much, and indeed it wasn't, yet it was perfect, and it taught us how little we really need. We're currently going through an ongoing process of down sizing our current lives and the amount of stuff we have. Hopefully our next move will be much easier than the last.

Coming Soon: The final installment of the moving trilogy – “Moving on Up: Our Current Abode.”