Open Google Maps, type in “Valencia, Spain" and zoom in to the little red marker in the center of the city. If you move up and to the left, slightly, you may see Torres de Quart, The Central Market of Valencia or the Catedral de Valencia. Well, that’s us, right smack in the middle of these historic landmarks. In the middle of Centro Historico, on the southern edge of El Carmen, one of the oldest, and liveliest (as we’ve come to find) areas of the city. Yep, this is our new home.
After two months desperately navigating Spanish rental websites, pushing through a dazzling array of Mediterranean bureaucracy, staying in four different AirBnB’s, having three surefire opportunities disappear out of thin air, and a negotiation process which consisted of a 3 hour Spanglish back and forth over beer and espresso, we FINALLY found a home. For the first time in almost a year and a half, we have a place to live that’s ours. And with a flat in the middle of a 2,100 year old city in Spain, comes some unique situations.
Built in 1840, the building we’ve just recently moved into is almost as old as the country we recently left. Our new street, Calle Rey Don Jaime, runs perpendicular to Calle de la Conquista. Both are short, narrow and seemingly insignificant. But as we’ve learned, these street names are anything but. Rey Don Jaime (translation: King James) conquered (hence, Calle de la Conquista) the Moors in the early 13th century, officially creating the Kingdom of Valencia (so, basically, there’s some history here).
We enter our new (old) building through 15 foot doors, walk past the Porteria, past a pulley-operated basket for transporting heavy groceries to the third floor, and up tiled stairs which are as Spanish as any we’ve seen since our arrival. The apartment itself is an experiment of old, new, weird, and purely awesome. There are wood beams throughout the living room and hallway, terra cotta tiled floors, 8 foot glass doors in the foyer that open into the inside of the building, and a kitchen which looks onto a small terrace and ancient walled-in monastery garden. The washing machine is in the kitchen, which has no oven (we bought a giant table top - sobre mesa - toaster oven). And yes, the bathroom does have a bidet, which we weren't entirely sure what to do with for the first 10 days. We get it now.
We’ve tried putting a few small nails in the walls to hang photos and prints, but failed miserably, because, well, they’re two feet of pure 19th century stone. The flat was rented partially furnished, a 6-hour adventure to IKEA in a rented van has allowed us to mix in some modern furniture with the existing antiques. Since we’re on the first floor (second, by U.S. standards) the balconies off both our bedroom and the guest bedroom have steel security bars to protect from any overly curious or overly intoxicated passersby. While not ideal, they serve as a perfect place to put plants, which we’re collecting at a rapid pace.
All in all, it’s a wonderful, strange, and beautifully different place. Inside our new apartment, we feel at home for the first time in months. Step outside and we have any number of incredible new things to explore within just a few minutes walk. Restaurants, bars, markets, cathedrals, museums and parks are all at our doorstep.
Finally, a home. All of this may be just what we've been searching for.
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