Traumatic Apartment Search

So since everybody is still wondering whether I’m homeless or not, I’ve (against my will) decided to share the tale of my apartment search. I’ll explain the dreadful experience now…but then lock it away forever….in a few minutes you will understand why.

My first 7 days in Italy were not spent savoring vino, olive oil and gelato or sharing my American flair with the Italian stallions I one day will marry…they were spent hopelessly searching for a place to live for the year. The process is something I am happy to say I will never have to endure again, but in retrospect was probably one of the coolest things I will have done here. Props to BCSP for FULL ON IMMERSION.

The way apartments work in Bologna is very different than how we do things at home. For example: last October two friends and I signed a contract 10 months before we were to move in. We went through every single step: how much everything was going to cost, how everything works, and our parents had to sign it etc. etc. etc. (Actually, I just started the process again for next year…yeah ABBIE woot woot. Thanks to my wonderful friends that did all the work for me. I love you and I will make delicious pasta for you next year). In Italy, as you can probably imagine, it doesn’t quite work that way. Students come to Bologna about a month…or even less…before classes start and search for an apartment.

Honestly, with all the technology that we have these days, I would call the process kind of primitive and completely disorganized(no offense Italy). Realtors and “student housing” don’t really exist here. (Obviously realtors exist but not for students; as we have Steve Brown Apts. or like C.H.T. housing in Madison). Instead, handwritten or typed flyers line every single building, trash bin, bridge and pigeon in Bologna. Usually the people that post the flyers are people that live in the apartment and are in search of a roommate. So, what you do is look around the city…find flyers that look good to you. Call the number on the flyer, set up a time to meet the person on the other end and see their apartment. Sounds easy, right? Psht, yeah right.

I was terrified. Legitimately sick I was so nervous. I’ve never really gone apartment shopping before in the U.S. let alone in Italy, speaking a language that still isn’t easy for me. So, after wandering aimlessly through the streets of Bologna searching for the perfect apartment (or rather the perfect apartment advertisement)…or maybe convincing myself that living in the hotel for a year was completely acceptable, I finally built up the courage to call Gianfranco, the owner of an ad that literally covered every single building. Dude must have spent 5 grand on flyers. So…my trembling hands picked up the phone and called him:

(Obviously, I translated this to English for you non-bilingual idiots)

“Pronto?”

“Pronto…ciao, I saw your ad and I would like to see your apartment. I’m a student from the US studying here for a year”

“Sure! I will be home in 5 minutes, can you come then?”

“Yes! See you then.”

Woooo….easy enough. He sounded so NICE! All of my fears escaped me and I skipped on to his apartment which is situated in the CUTEST area. I was already imagining myself making delicious Italian delicacies with my new (attractive and obviously buff) roommate Gianfranco. I found the building and immediately fell in love with the place. The huge cherry-wood doors, bronze door knobs and marble stairs were exactly what I was looking for. I decided at that moment, I was going to take the apartment if I liked it, which obviously, I was going to.

…Then Guido-man Gianfranco emerged from the corner, holding worlds largest takeout bag from MacDonalds. If the jorts didn’t immediately turn me off then it was the inch thick chain he wore around his neck or maybe the way his sweat stained wife beater clung to his fupa. I don’t know.

He started to explain the apartment. I would have a single (NICE). I would share a bathroom with only one other girl (NICE). There would be 3 other girls living with me (Meaning Gianfranco wouldn’t be my roommate! Yes. I’m reconsidering). Fast internet, nice kitchen, washer, great location, terrace…everything was shaping up. The overly-gelled proprietor was redeeming himself.

I walked into the apartment, expecting little doves to fly out of it and an orchestra to commence. Well not really…eh it was okay. There was no living room, but the kitchen and terrace were huge. I could deal with that.

Now it all depended on my roommates and my single.

Marta, one of the roommates was the only one that was there. She came to greet me. I shook her hand and all I could focus on was the soaking wet palm that contacted mine. Girl was on some sort of crack. She didn’t even say a word to me. Hell no can I deal with a sweaty crackhead. Ok, relax Mal. I kicked myself out of my paranoia…

Ok now time to see the room, at his point I was ready to get the hell out of Gianfranco’s hell house…but then he showed me where I could potentially live. Up about 10 adorable oak stairs was a cute (from the looks of it) room. I scanned it…ok, hospital looking bed, no light, but there was a skylight. OBSESSED. It lit up the whole room and had a beautiful look to the bright blue sky above.

“What’s your budget?” Asks Gianfranco

I replied…”I don’t know around 400?”

“Ok 400 it is do you want it?”

Jesus Christ man, let me think about it for a second. So negatives: Mafia looking guido proprietor and crack addicted perspiring roommate. And the positives: SKYLIGHT….well then it dawned on me. Gianfranco works with the guys that take Shannon from LOST ..(you know the one that runs without moving her arms) from Liam Neeson and throws her into the sex trafficking industry. Seeing as Bob Warner isn’t quite as knowledgeable in this particular area of expertise as Liam, I had to say no thank you.

“So? What do you think?”

“No thank you Gianfranco. I WILL NOT be living in that prison cell that offers easy access to my sleeping self in the middle of the night through the skylight by the Gypsies that are going to take me and sell me to Albanians. Enjoy your McDonald’s Guido-man.”

And that was my first housing experience.

….really. That was EXACTLY what happened. I didn’t over exaggerate at all.

Here are brief synopsizes of a few other apartments I looked at:

Paola—Paola’s apartment was really nice. A bit outside the city than I wanted to be. I would have my own room with two twin beds in it, everything was new and decorated nicely. The only thing was that Paola was a chain-smoker. The house reeked of smoke and quite frankly looked like The Legends of the Hidden Temple with all the lingering smoke around. So I ixed her…sorry girlfriend.

Sylvia—Sylvia was the proprietor of a cute apartment. The place had two rooms and an adorable kitchen. Sylvia lived in an apartment that connected to the one she was renting out. Sylvia was such a DIVA. She was wearing this silky pink robe (that looked like it was made for a queen) and had this great perfume on that basically just smelled like money and diamonds. I want to be her. Anyway, I had noticed a bunch of homeless people outside of the apartment on the way and asked her about the safety of the area. She replied “Oh yeah there is a soup-kitchen right across the street. But it’s really safe. They’re has only been one murder on my block since I’ve lived here.” ….oh is that so?

3 Swiss guys-This was one of my favorite apartments because of the people that lived there. Yeah, it was 3 guys. Mom and Dad were not too happy about that one. But they were all so nice and very interesting. They were also very clean. I really wanted the apartment, but unfortunately (to my parents delight) they chose someone else.

I think I looked at a total of 9 apartments before finally settling on the one I live in now.

I LOVE IT. I live exactly in the center of the city. The apartment was just redone a few years ago. It has dark cherry wood floors. I have my own room with two twin beds in it (one that I have turned into a couch). I have 2 roommates. Sylvana is 32 and writes freelance and Laura is 26 and is in the process of getting her P.H.D. in Philosophy (so smart.). They have been really great to me so far and SPEAK NO ENGLISH. Which is great, so I’m forced to speak in Italian always. Even though they are a few years older than me….we get along great and still have interesting conversations with eachother.

So that was that. My apartment search was COMPLETED. I guess it wasn’t as bad as it could have been. But I’M SO GLAD IT’S OVER and I have a place to call HOME SWEET HOME

If you would ever want to send me a letter, or like a Qdoba burrito in the mail you can send it to me at:

Mallory Warner

c/o Laura La Bella

Via San Vitale 18

CAP 40125 Bologna (BO)

(make sure not to insure it because then I have to pay a ton….and I’m broke)

I still cringe every time I see the name Gianfranco.

Mals

ps. i will upload photos a) once my technicologicallyeiobahy-challanged-self can figure it out and b) once i clean my room :-)