Sunday, September 3

somewhere to live 2

So I started flat hunting. It wasn't easy. The landlords preferred to rent out on a weekly basis to tourists for more money. Some landlords took me for a rich foreigner and asked for a ridiculous amount of money, other places I saw were hovels. I didn't want to share a kitchen and bathroom with 3 other apartments and I didn't want to spend more than my monthly wage on rent. Then I was offered a flat share in the village above Positano. I eagerly went to see the apartment and meet the person who wanted to share. The flat, however was one bedroomed, and my potential flatmate was a Venezualan man who eagerly showed me photos of his girlfriend, conveniently left in Venezuala. I politely declined.

As I walked back down the road, I saw a man called Mario, crouching down, painting a fence. I didn't know him very well, but remembered that he had been a friend of my ex. He asked me where I was going so I told him about my search for an apartment and my near Venezualan experience.
“You need house?” He asked me in broken English, “you live in my house! Come!” He started beckoning me to follow him.
“Er, no” Mario thanks , but I really want to live alone, wait!” He wasn't listening, just nodding his head up and down, trying to get me to follow him.
“Yes, come see, my house perfect!” he insisted, taking my arm and leading me up some steps. I followed him, blabbering on about how his girlfriend wouldn't be happy if he invited strange women to live with him. But he lead me past his house, up a little alleyway to a door with pots of flowers outside it. He unlocked the door and led me inside.

I walked into a small studio apartment. Sunlight streamed through a gap in the curtains, highlighting the dust swirling around in the air. Mario pulled back the curtains revealing a small balcony with the most amazing view. Pos was laid out beneath me, houses cascading down the mountainside towards the beach. The road weaved through the town like a steel gray ribbon and when I cast my
gaze upwards, all I could see was mountain and sky.

I tore myself away from the view and looked around at the room. It was perfect. A small table with a red and white checked cloth divided the kitchenette from the living area. In one corner was a reclining armchair and a couple of beanbags. A wardrobe divided the entrance from the bedroom area, where a double bed complete with Balinese wooden headboard stood. There was a spacious bathroom, brightly tiled like a crazy chessboard in yellow and white tiles. It was exactly what I had
been looking for. We came to an agreement on the price of the rent and a few days later I moved in.


  1. Amazing how things manifest themselves!

  2. It is amazing, and what an incredible view!

  3. This is sounding like a fairy tale or something out of a movie! Lucky you!

  4. You are lucky, you know that!
    And the saga continues...

  5. As we all learn, in Italy it's who you know and you need to tell everyone your business so they'll know how to help you.
    I practically list on my Palm Pilot the details of my life I would keep to myself in the USA, so I won't forget to spill my guts about everything...just in case.


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