Sunday 4
For the first two months here in Portland I was technically homeless. I bounced between couches and air mattresses at different friends’ apartments until I was finally able to move into my own place. For the first month or so I hunted for apartments within my price range. Scouring Craigslist, realtors and other possible land lords, it became very clear that living on my own in the city was going to be expensive, to say the least. Although when I compared the rents here with the short amount of time in Japan where I was living on my own the prices were actually pretty comparable. In order to be able to afford rent, paying my student loans and a couple other bills I was probably going to go back to living in an efficiency unity, with just enough space for a bed and maybe a kitchenette, if I was lucky. It was a depressing prospect, to say the least. But then, as has happened many times over the course of my life, a stroke of luck appeared.
I was walking by a large brick apartment building on my way to visit my friend Chelsea when I noticed a small “Apartment for Rent” sign out in front. I called the number and asked about the price. Just above my range, but for a one bedroom all utilities included. The utilities were important, I’d been assured by almost everyone here I’d spoken with, as Maine winters were not a time to pay for your own heat and hot water. So I scheduled a viewing and went on my way. When it finally came to meet with the landlord, he took me in and showed me the place. Or rather, he showed me what the place would be like in a month and a half. Apparently the previous tenant had been a heavy smoker and the entire place would have to be refinished before it would be able to be occupied. I loved what I saw in the finished rooms and so I tentatively agreed to put some money down towards the deposit and he would hold it for me until the work was done.
Of course that meant that I had to go back to relying on the kindness of friends and others for a roof over my head in the meantime, but a new friend by the name of Aoife (pronounced E-fa) was gracious enough to ask her mother if I could crash in an apartment that they owned but were currently not renting out. So in exchange for helping for that apartment to return to livability I was able to wait out the time for my own place to become habitable. It was a nice apartment, actually, and if I had had a car and a bit more stead income I may have even been interested in renting it instead, but in the end the distance and the prospective price made it unworkable. Still I did enjoy moving furniture up from the basement of their place and turning a series of blank rooms into a comfortable living space. It was a far cry from sleeping in shelters every night or in the confines of my small tent. I was almost sad to leave once December 15th had rolled around and I was able to finally move in to my own space.
Once I had a place to put my own things, however, I needed to get them up here. And it is a long drive from Ohio up to Portland.