New Home

So, I’ve moved out of the shared place in the center of town and into a new apartment of my very own.  *Sigh*.   Three and a half years ago I sold all my things and narrowed my life down to two suitcases and some rubbermaid bins (about five, I think).  I have brought those two suitcases around the globe, living in various shared apartments.  Mostly good experiences.

Now I’m tired.  I’m tired of moving around and I’m ready to stay put.  I got the citizenship I was waiting for, my work is going better, and I’m 32.  I want to live alone and have dinner parties and not have to say goodbye to people as I board a plane to the next adventure.  This is it.

A man I’ll call R found me this place, a one-bedroom apartment just outside of town.  I’ll have to catch a bus into the center (or walk just under half an hour), but for a great rental price I get so much more space than I had before.  I’ve moved from the likes of a Franciscan cell to a real apartment.  The ceilings are high, and my view is spectacular from every window.  I see hills, I see a courtyard with olive trees, I see a castle built in medieval times, and as I take my coffee in the kitchen in the morning, I watch noble, wise cypresses bowing their heads ever so slightly in the wind.

I can dance tango in my kitchen.  My bed is big.  The bathroom has good lighting.

This is the most beautiful place I have ever lived.  It’s a dream!  I deserve this, I really do.  And the best part is, I simply allowed it to happen.

*Pictures to follow