It’s (probably) free of bedbugs.
It has a big kitchen. It has a dishwasher. It has an oven. I haven’t yet decided what the first thing I bake will be. I have about twenty recipes open in different tabs right now, and all are in contention.
It has big windows.
It has a chatty doorman, named Miguel.
It has a bunch of bedrooms – but no roommates – yet. One is moving in soon. I’m sure she will be lovely.
It’s in a student neighbourhood called Moncloa. A few metro stops from downtown, but away from the tumult of the centre.
It’s twenty metres away from Parque del Oeste – full of running trails and big trees and picnic spots.
It’s a short bus ride to the school where I teach. It’s right next to a metro stop.
I’ve already discovered very good pizza about a minute away. There are also two gyms within the same distance. Balance.
I got to the new apartment only with the help of two wonderful travel companions – Pete and Aran. On a warm Madrid evening they hauled all my stuff from my no-cars-allowed former street at Callao to a busy street corner on Gran Vía. At rush hour. A quick call produced a taxi-van and a very efficient driver loaded all of my possessions into his trunk in a minute flat, without disrupting any traffic.
(I admit, I was hoping to disrupt some traffic.)
Then he drove us up to my new place and just as efficiently got all my stuff out of the back of the van. It came to just over eight euros.
He got a big tip.
After a year of bad luck with apartments, it seems like the tides may have changed. My fingers are crossed.