A more boring post about finding my apartment

Apartment hunting in Granada is crazy. During late August and September, the city gets an even coating of paper from the flyers advertising apartments. The ads range from totally uninformative to questionable-sounding propaganda. There's no well-used website and people rarely respond to emails, so you call hundreds of numbers from flyers and have thousands of awkward conversations that sound like this:

"I'm calling about the apartment."
"Ok"
"Is it still free?"
"Yes"
"Can I see it?"
"Yes"
"Ok, when?"
"Whenever."
"Umm, ok, can I go over now?"
"Yes"
"Vale vale vale. Vale vale."
"Vale?"
"Vale!"

Then you go see millions of apartments, many of which are old, dirty, or have inhabitants that don't appeal to you, or who don't want people who are only staying for only six months. Then you find yours.

I got it easy. I have the keys to the third place I saw. The first piso I saw was of the disgusting variety. The second was very elegantly put together, but the landlady was openly overbearing. I went to my third with Allie and Anna, two friends who had seen around twenty places. I'd seen the ad, so I had priority out of us three. A calm Spanish guy greeted us and showed us around. The place was definitely nice and so was he. The rooms were well lit, the kitchen and common area were spacious and relatively modern, the price was good, and the location was super convenient. Anna and Allie were awed and told me repeatedly that I had to take it, that it was amazing, and that they were jealous of me already. Well, shit, I'd only seen three places, but my laziness and impulsiveness couldn't argue with that kind of logic. I told Juan that if he wanted to give me the room right now, I'd commit. He told me that was fine and I chose my room of the three. The other two girls left and I stayed to chat with Juan. He's 19, studying primary education, a footballer, and a fantastically chill dude. He told me that now, filling the other two rooms would be up to both of us. We agreed on no native English speakers, one guy and one girl, and no two people of the same nationality.

When I went back this afternoon, he had a list of names a mile long of people who had come to see it and loved it. I hoped I hadn't pressured him into giving me the room without sufficient time to put me into the pool. He assured me that it was not the case and that he'd chosen me too. I was psyched. I struggle with interviews and don't usually make good first impressions, so it was cool to know I'd actually won the personality contest. Eventually, I met a very friendly French girl with whom Juan had gotten along well and who was ready to commit, and we gave her the third room. Now, we have one more to fill. To round out the genders and to give Juan a chance to practice the language, it will ideally be a German dude.

PS: Spanish spoken with a French accent is strange and beautiful.