November 12, 2022
I’ve been traveling for about four and a half months. Yesterday, I thought I was feeling travel weary. I arrived in a new town, and I wasn’t that excited. I walked into the building where I was renting an apartment, and it just didn’t feel right. I got up to my apartment and got a little excited that it had a partial view of the Mediterranean. And it was relatively spacious for a short-term rental. It may be alright after all.
Then I started to notice little things, not-so-good things. The towel bar in the bathroom was broken and hanging rustily from its one screw. The white-painted kitchen chairs were grubby and in need of a good cleaning. The sofa had uneven back cushions and was ripped in one corner. There was a flat white sheet lying on it. I initially thought it might be a set of sheets for a fold-out mattress. No, it was one flat sheet, presumably to cover the crappy sofa.
Then there were other little things. The batteries were dead in the television remote. I couldn’t release the stopper when I stopped up the bathroom sink to wash some underwear. But it got worse; there was no hair dryer! No hair dryer? Every single place I have been since June has provided a hair dryer.
Then there was one bizarre thing. Once I manually turned on the TV (dead batteries in the remote), I noticed all the stations were in French! Blanes is on the Costa Brava of Spain—at least 100 kilometers from France. Usually, I wouldn’t fuss about the TV, but it was Friday night, and I wanted to watch La Voz (Spain’s version of The Voice).
This morning, I was dreading the trip to the front desk. I actually had a list so I would remember everything. I’m not fond of confrontation, and complaining is not my style. But I’m here for two more nights, and it would be nice to stop washing my hands and brushing my teeth in the kitchen sink. And my hair looks like crap. I’d rather not go with the ponytail and hat look for the next three days.
Most of the issues were quickly remedied. The front desk clerk handed me two batteries and called housekeeping to bring up a hairdryer and check on the sink drain. It was one of those press-down and pop-up deals. She had to press a few times, and it finally popped up. She assured me she would send maintenance a note about the towel bar. I breathed a sigh of relief and got out for a day of exploring.
Still, I wouldn’t say I like this place—not the town—this apartment. I tried to talk myself into liking it. The bed is comfortable, and the sheets are clean. There is even a rain head in the shower. But it lacks coziness and comfort. The walls have a rough texture. The décor is lacking, except for the cute basket-style lampshade over the kitchen table. It feels like it was done in the most minimally acceptable way, as no one cares. It lacks warmth. No one should have to pay to sit on a worn and tattered sofa! Shabby is the best word to describe it.
Wandering Shannon 