October 5, 2022

Do you ever think about space and what it means to you? No, I’m not talking about the stars, planets, universe kind of space—these days, I’m thinking about the spaces we occupy.

Why?

I sold my home a few months ago and have been traveling or staying with friends and family ever since. I’ve occupied various hotel rooms, condos, and bedrooms at friends’ houses. This is all by choice, mind you. Don’t get worried that this poor woman is desperate and homeless. I’m taking some time out, a self-imposed sabbatical, to see what’s next.

In Lisbon, Portugal, I recently stayed in a studio apartment that was smaller than most hotel rooms. There was just enough space to walk around the double bed; I’m sure it was less than eight feet wide. The kitchenette was on the wall opposite the bed, with a skinny bar-style table for two and a small desk in between. I’m not really complaining, though. It did have two big windows, which at least made it tolerable. It was also equipped with a safe in the entryway, a foot-long bar with six hangers, and an iron and ironing board, a rarity in European hotel rooms. Someone had put a lot of thought into making that tiny space efficient. And really, you’re in Lisbon. Get out and see the sights instead of hanging out in your room!

But I needed to take some breaks to rest, and I could barely stand in the room. It just wasn’t enough space. In contrast, I stayed in a studio in Porto, Portugal, that was at least double, possibly triple, the size. It was equipped with a Juliette balcony plus two large windows. The ceilings were at least ten feet high, and I loved it! The kitchenette was well-equipped, and I did quite a bit of cooking, saving the expense of eating out. (I’m also a health nut with Celiac Disease.)

Two days ago, I arrived in Valencia, Spain. This is the longest stay of my 90-day European adventure. I’ll be here for four weeks. I got lucky on Airbnb and found a super-cool apartment in a desirable area—Ruzafa. The host is particular about his renters. There is a minimum twenty-day stay with a maximum of two people occupying the apartment. It’s a rather large two-bedroom apartment, at least 1000 square feet. I think he initially rented to bigger groups and had some negative experiences.

The online pictures looked enticing, and all the reviews were five-star. That made me hopeful. I liked that the owner was picky; that meant he cared about the property. He had worked to preserve the original character of the apartment, which I appreciate. Of course, he doesn’t want someone trashing it.

When I arrived, I was pleasantly surprised. It was even better than the photos had indicated. The owner should have shared charming features like the small atrium with plants on the wall. Each room has natural light. The primary bedroom has bay windows, and the smaller bedroom has a balcony attached, which can also be accessed through a tall skinny window in the master. The kitchen has been updated with new appliances and a sizeable refrigerator.

But the best part is the great room space. At least one wall was removed to create an open space. It has floor-to-ceiling windows, some with colored glass, about 12 by 12 feet. You read correctly, 12-foot ceilings! I’m sitting here typing at the midcentury desk, surrounded by plants, facing the wall of windows. The great room space is about 20 by 20 feet in its entirety. One corner provides the perfect space for my temporary yoga studio. The original tile mosaic floors in the dining area and those in the bedrooms and entryway have been preserved. I genuinely feel privileged to occupy this space for a few weeks.

For some people, space is insignificant. For others, it is everything. My twenty-something sons don’t care much about space. When my older son got his first job out of college, he moved across the country and lived in a one-bedroom apartment with no art on the walls that was furnished with a bed, a chair, and a TV. That’s it. The rest wasn’t necessary for him. He knew he’d only be there for two years, so he wanted to avoid investing further.

When I was younger, space wasn’t that important to me either. After studying in Spain for a semester, a friend and I traveled through Europe for six weeks with backpacks and Eurail passes. We stayed in some dumpy rooms with terrible beds and sometimes shared bathrooms. I’d never survive that now.

Since divorcing nine years ago, I have lived in several places (even before selling my most recent home). I now understand that I was searching for the right space. I lived in a two-story townhome-style condo for four years, which was tolerable. The downstairs had nine-foot ceilings and oversized windows with views of evergreen trees. Not bad. The main bedroom upstairs was large, but the ensuite bathroom was small. I renovated the bathroom, which made it more my space. Besides that, I haven’t lived in a place for over two years. It’s been a restless stretch.

Sitting here now, I know what I need to be happy: natural light, ample space to move around, a well-equipped kitchen, and inviting spaces to read, write, and practice yoga. I don’t care how small the bedroom and bath might be. I don’t live in those spaces. It’s all about the space I occupy in my waking hours.