The perks of sharing a flat (WITH ELEVEN PEOPLE)

Truth be told, I was writing a completely different entry. Being who I am, I started dwelling on different things, and I ended up writing about my adventures in the best flat that has ever existed. I have so much to tell about it that eventually decided that this deserves its own, loooong entry, so here it comes!

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My wonderful window

This was my first time sharing a flat. Back here in Chile we live with our parents, so I was very excited about this new way of living. I even decided to share a room, because I always imagined that having a roommate was the most awesome thing that could happen to me. I had extremely high expectations, and also a couple of fears: What if my roommate and I didn’t get along? What if we were too different from each other? If we had different taste in music? Anything was possible.

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Got a Frozen blanket!

I had applied for university accommodation and my “residence” was less than 5 minutes walking to the main campus. Student Apartments turned out to be just that: normal, beauuuutiful apartments (from the outside at least, haha). But when I first arrived it didn’t look so beautiful, especially since the building didn’t have an elevator and I was carrying my huge suitcases AND my room was on the second floor. Jesus Christ, getting there was hard. But it was home, somehow. A part of me knew this place was gonna become the most wonderful place on earth for me. And it did.

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Celebrating Chilean National Day with completos!

50B (how we all came to call this awesome place) was a very special flat. It was divided in two – our side, the cool side, and the other side, the one with boring people we barely met. We had three bathrooms and one kitchen, and since we (girls) took over the best bathroom, the kitchen became the “problematic” BUT best place in that flat. The amount of parties, beers, drunk people, weird food, 4 a.m conversations that took place in there are innumerable. The kitchen was our place to talk, drink, cry, complain, scream, laugh, and from time to time, eat. If it was a mess? For sure.

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Italian Night thanks to Alysa and Andrew

I ended up sharing my side of the flat with eleven (yes, ELEVEN) people. We were two Chileans (yay!), five Americans (almost six later on), a Czech, an awesome, crazy as hell Aussie, and the best roommate you could ever imagine, my lovely Singaporean/Bengalis Persa. This people became my family for almost four months and I couldn’t have asked for a better family. Pablo’s delicious food and contagious happiness, Kacka’s desserts, Brian’s jokes and pancakes at 2 a.m, Alysa’s smile and kind words, Jacob’s hugs, Houston’s baklavas almost every week, Ivanna and Beth’s weekend parties, Andrew’s remarks about society and life. And of course, Jenny’s healing hot chocolates at 5 a.m while we were working/crying in the kitchen together, and Persa’s amazing smile, words, hugs, company and food.

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My 21 birthday dinner. Persa cooked EVERYTHING and it was delicious!

Of course we had problems from time to time. They are good memories now. Like the amounts of times I had to ask Pablo, the other Chilean, to clean his freaking dishes. Or when the sink was full of disgusting stuff and nobody would clean it (thanks Pablo for doing it!) or say who did the mess. That time the fire alarm went on twice during the night (and in Glasgow that means going out in your pijamas with 0 degrees outside). Persa and I got incredibly mad every time people took our stuff from out kitchen drawer: I even had to write a very passive-aggressive note for them to stop doing it (they didn’t).

There were lots of more moments. We had hundred celebrations – starting with Chile’s Independence Day, yay– from Italian Sundays to Thanksgivings, including my 21 birthday in the middle. Normal drinking nights – cause beer was a must in every fridge – the kitchen table outside in the middle of the corridor for 4 days (yes, we were too lazy to move it back so we even had breakfast and lunch there), 1 a.m cigarretes with Pablo, and constant visits from our friends from Murano and Kelvinhaugh, who also became part of the people living in 50B. The place we all built together is full of memories that only belong to us, and the strength of these memories is something only we can understand. Now that I look back and hear other people’s terrible experiences with their flatmates, I realize that we were very, very lucky to have each other and to have ended up, the eleven of us, in that small kitchen.

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Thanksgiving, our last dinner together.

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