Homeless in Madrid

I got the job!! But wait… wasn’t I forgetting something important? Oh yea, I needed a place to sleep.

It’s Friday afternoon, I just signed the work contract and freedom commenced. That could only mean one thing… celebrate with a liter of margarita (I’m not even exaggerating). There was just one catch, I needed a place to sleep for the following day. Any responsible adult would probably at this point go home, pack and seriously look for a bed. I guess I haven’t reached that stage of adulthood yet. At least the homeless story served as a great party anecdote.

However, reality hit me when I woke up hungover the next morning, with only one hour left to vacate my room. And so, I packed the one rucksack I brought to Spain and set off to stroll around the city in hopes that a spare room with a comfortable bed would magically appear out of thin air.

I continued to carry my entire life on my back (… literally everything I own. I was really working off those margarita-calories I had consumed the night before, and possibly sweating pure alcohol), and then spent the rest of the day going from one flat-visit to the next. People thought I was crazy turning up with a rucksack which probably weighed 2/3 of my own body weight.

For some reason, flats don’t like me very much. Every half a year or so I find myself in the same boat; homeless and frustrated. The situation seemed so familiar, reminding me of the time I begged people in Melbourne to let me sleep on their couch, or that one month I was camped out in my friend’s living-room in Edinburgh.

After seeing an extortionately expensive attic, a flat made for midgets, a bathroom with a bed in it and the option of rooming with a 70 year old crazy cat lady, I did the only sensible thing and went for some greasy pizza and a kilo of ice-cream to cheer me up. I was cutting it so close!! The pizza grease gave me new strengths and I begged a hostel to take me in on such short notice… I must have been persuasive (and desperate).

I then continued couch surfing, which is only recommendable, before suddenly finding my current room. I can’t say it was an easy find, as I am sure everyone with a possible spare room in Madrid got sent a message by me. However, at the end of all the frustration and stress, I got lucky, and moved in from one day to the next.

You just gotta have a little faith, a lot of persistence and even more junk-food.



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