Cartas Españolas: Mi Almacén

 Home sweet, home. Come right in!

Home sweet, home. Come right in!

While I have a moment, I figured it would be nice to share where I've been staying for the last couple of months: Mi Almacén. For the record, almacén means closet in Spanish. No, not like a luxurious walk-in closet, but more of a dusty janitor-type closet. 

As you can see from the above photo, that is about all there is to my humble abode. So far I can fit two pairs of skis, a surfboard, a skateboard, enough underwear for a week, and myself in this little nook.

I'm 28 years old. I live in a closet. And I'm okay with that. In fact, I actually paid a little extra to live in said closet.

Why? Simple. The apartment had a roof terrace with a view of the city and was located in a neighborhood full of shops, markets, and bars. It sits at the base of a cool hill with some running trails and views of the coast. And hey, it's in Barcelona.

Someday I'd love to live in an age and salary-appropriate apartment, but for now I'm focused  outside in that big, wide world out there. Or maybe I'm more of a dirtbag than I care to admit.

I know some of the Instagram and Facebook posts tell a different, and maybe misleading, story, but I figured I'd let you know that the dude behind that social media veil rests his head in a janitor's closet with a colorful cot and a cheap scented candle. I think it might be vanilla, maybe.