03. El Nido del Contrabandista¹

 

The post you are about to read was written two months ago, but it is only now that I have been able to find the time to sit down and publish it. I sincerely apologise - Bullshit. I would do it again. I have no regrets -. 

And after the storm, comes the calm (or other storms).

It's been a few weeks since I moved into my new studio. My intention was to call it La Cueva del Contrabandista², but given the fact that it's in an eighth floor and that I have six metres of window space, I think it's more appropriate to call it El Nido del Contrabandista - Which, by the way, I hope will also save me intellectual property problems with Ali Baba and his 40 thieves, who must not live very far away -.

The Nido, seen from the kitchen. In the photo you can see that it is a clear case of empty nest syndrome - Hahahaha. Ouch! No, Mum, not with the slipper -. 

So right now I find myself furnishing my just over 30 m2. I have to be thankful that the flat has a sink and a shared washing machine that I'm allowed to use half a day every second week, and that the previous tenant was kind enough to leave me some crockery, the shower curtain pole, and the lampshades for the three lamps in the whole place. 

It sounds like a joke, but it's not. It took me three days to be able to eat seated, and two weeks to start eating warm meals. I still don't have a bed or curtains; and bringing and assembling a chest of drawers on my own has proved to be a challenge worthy of epic songs - Although I must say that for the transport I had the invaluable help of a friend and fellow sufferer in these installation messes -.

And here, Oliver and I assembling our first piece of furniture. It seems to be still standing

Truth is that I am looking forward to the moment when I can go straight home from work, without having to stop at IKEA on the way, and sit down to have a half-normal dinner with Oliver without worrying that there is something to buy, repair or fix. So much so that I don't think I've been in the centre of Geneva for three or four weekends in a row, always on the lookout for some mess to clear up - I have been able to go for a beer with someone (not counting Oliver, who is still locked up at home making sure that everything is in order) and to listen to a concert with someone else. But it's not enough for me. Not enough at all -.

So, this weekend I'm going to make my first expedition and escape to France for a few days, to see friends, mountains, and some cheese to pass under my coat when I cross the border back - For all you purists of legality, know that I am aware of the legal limits of movement of goods, which I comply fastidiously. One can be a smuggler, but a legal one -.

Without further ado, I bid you farewell for the moment with the wish to write to you again soon, and if possible, from somewhere other than my kitchen counter.

 

Et voilà, the kitchen counter in the first night

And here is what was my bed for a month and a half. Playing the poor little waif

P.S. Today is a postscript instead of a postscriptum - This pun doesn't make damn sense in English. Such a boring language! -. Truth is that since I wrote these lines, we have managed to make progress, although not without problems. For example, I already have a bed, although we lost a leg along the way and it didn't turn up until a month later - "And how can you lose the leg of a bed base, Álvaro? That's what I ask myself -. Although that story, the odyssey of the household appliances, and that of the ghosts who throw pictures frames and other noisy objects at two in the morning - for God's sake, for God's sake, don't let them realize the bookshelf - will have to wait. I'm tempted to send you pictures of what the Nido looks like now, but I'll be strong and resist the temptation :)

And for our guiris friends:

1. El Nido del Contrabandista: It's the name I coined for my place after the blog name. You can translate it as The Smuggler's Nest.
2. La Cueva del Contrabandista: The Smuggler's Cave. My first option to use as a name for my flat.