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Don’t Believe What You Read On Facebook: How We Rented (And Lost) An Apartment In Spain In 24 Hours
The real immigration “problem” is toxic expats
As I was writing this story things happened that humbled me a little, but also reaffirmed that I made the right decision to move to Spain. This is a saga of everything going right — triumph — followed by something big going disappointingly wrong.
It’s also a story about keeping the faith and staying organized and positive in an unsettled situation that could prompt you to lash out or even give up.
Between the ages of 20 (1995!) and 49 (2024–2025), I have lived in 14 long-term apartments in 8 different cities (Miami, Pittsburgh, Dallas, Las Vegas, San Francisco, Irvine, Santa Monica and Los Angeles).
Ever since San Francisco, a primary focus of my apartment hunts has been to live in an urban environment where everything I need and want is accessible by foot, by bicycle and connected via public transportation.
Most of the time, I have only been able to half ass this style of city living. Now, in Valencia, Spain, I finally have the opportunity to get it right. To live the full-fledged urban dream I have been seeking since I became obsessed — such a long time ago (!) — with cities in The City by The Bay.
