Bienvenidos a Santander

Most people whom I told I did not know where I was living when I arrived in Santander told me I was crazy. They either straight up said this or they told me with wide and judging eyes that I was "very brave".
Santander was way bigger than I anticipated. I pictured a sleepy little beach town and it very much so feels like a city to me. It has a more European feel to it than Granada in the south and it is, as people warned me, very green. Arrival day was sunny and gorgeous and I happily strolled the streets I hoped to call mine soon, as I found my hostel, which I would call home base for a short while. Finding a local newspaper, (smiling to myself that it is in Spanish and that I can read it), I made many appointments to view apartments the next day. I got a hold of one seemingly nice lady named Besna who told me that for two months I could have her room and she would sleep in the living room because she wasn’t quite ready to leave. She said I should come check out the place, and that even if I didn’t like it I could stay until I found something else. At first I thought it was an overly nice and unnecessary gesture, but then after remembering the forty five dollars a night I was paying in the hostel, I decided that even if it was odd, it was worth it. Upon arriving I realized that something was not right, but I didn’t quite figure it out until we all sat down around the kitchen table to “discuss things” and the two tenants sat cross-armed and clearly upset about something, not exactly a welcoming party... I was quickly thrown into an argument about how Besna was thinking only of herself, in that she thought that since she found me to take her room, that she was not going to pay to live in the living room for two months. I liked other tenants, two Italian girls my age, right away because even though they were angry I could tell that they were kind at heart. They were simply standing up for their right to only have three people in the tiny little apartment for which they paid to have three, not four. Besna was clearly being manipulative and rather than being able to discuss what was fair with us she wanted all of us to meet with the landlord, who conveniently was her friend. despite being Besna´s friend, the landlord was an older woman that saw right through what was happening. I liked that she took charge and was not going to let any of the girls get away with anything. She told them that they should not have come to her place to discuss things, that she was not going to be the counselor and that if anyone should be thrown out it should be me…with which I agreed. I could not believe that I was considered to be such an important part of the equation, and can only explain it by acknowledging that Besna wanted dearly for me to evoke sympathy in the Italian girls so she could get her way. After we could finally persuade Besna that four people would not be living in the apartment, I then tried to explain that the situation was now too stressful for me, as I was on vacation, and that I thought it best if I went back to the hostel. However by this time I think they began to feel embarrassed that they had put me in the middle of such a mess and wanted to make up for it by keeping me as a temporary guest in their house while I searched for a permanent home. I agreed after much persuasion, but made about seven appointments for the next day to ensure I would find something else quickly.
The day was so strange that it felt surreal. It was an experience that comes with traveling I suppose and that I am happy that I can look back on with good humor, in fact that even as it was happening I thought the whole situation was ridiculous and comical. In the end the whole story is worth telling because the two Italian girls, Sara and Lorena are good friends of mine now, and it just goes to prove how strange circumstances can often serve as pathways to friendships. They have invited me to stay with them in their homes in Bari, southern Italy, for our spring break, and I found tickets for only 133 euros. And they made me some killer Italian coffee and spagetti:)