Empty Apartments

There's nothing like a short break back in England to remind you of why you're struggling on over here in Sweden. On Tuesday I flew back to London to get my apartment ready for the Estate Agency who are handling the sale. They need to photograph my apartment and make it look desirable and inviting before advertising my property on their website.

My friend who has been renting my apartment assured me earlier in the week he'd moved out and had given the place a moving day clean. Great, I thought, this should be easy, I just have to clear some of the junk that I had left for him (mainly kitchen things and the odd bit of furniture).

Once I'd met my friend, we dropped a spare set of keys with the Estate Agency, and walked the short distance to my apartment. I was horrified when we got into my flat. Not only was 90% of my friends possessions still there (including large leather sofa), but the guy who had rented the spare room had also left a large double bed. I fired questions at my friend: didn't you tell me you'd moved out, I thought you cleaned the place? No, no he answered (somewhat disingenuously) I didn't say that at all. Now I've know this friend a long time, and foolishly perhaps, I thought having a contract for the rent would be overkill, as he was so trustworthy. But to have someone attempt to contradict himself so obviously was insulting to my intelligence. To cut a long story short, apparently the reason for not having moved his stuff out was, unbelievably:

1. the place he's moved to is only five minutes walk up the road and he was too cheap to hire a taxi to help him move, and was carrying the small amounts by hand to his new apartment. In fact, when I mentioned that perhaps this might be a better strategy, he admitted it hadn't occurred to him.

2. He decided rather than shift his stuff and clean and make sure the place was in a suitable state, he'd go mountain biking in Wales instead.

Rather than explode and rant and rave, I decided clear honest communication was the way forward. I told my friend I felt very let down and he'd been quite dishonest. I tried not to sound too patronizing as I patiently explained (as one might do with a small child) that it is normal that when you move out of an apartment you spend several days thoroughly cleaning the place. It's easy to do as by that stage you've already moved your possessions out.

I've decided to accept that it was a lesson in life, and that trusting people (even if they are friends who've you known for years) to rent your apartment without a contract is a bad idea. Having a contract although it seems very formal just means that everyone knows where they stand. I guess you learn these things by making those mistakes. I don't hold it against my friend, he's still a reasonable guy, it's just he has a tendency to make the most out of a favour.

There were some positives of the trip: I realized why I'm so glad to get out of London. My flat is in a crappy depressing area (bizarrely in a convenient location though),and in contrast my flat here over looks the sea and Öresund bridge. The air is clean and I'm not assailed by putrid aromas wafting up from the neighbours kitchen's (I swear one neighbour was cooking a combination of dog boiled in stale cabbage water).

This Friday is the anniversary of my arrival in Sweden. It's been a year of positives and negatives, as you would expect from anyone living as an immigrant in a new country and trying to learn a new language. Five years ago, working and living in London, I felt like I was in stasis, trapped in routines of convenience I'd created over the years: my job, my apartment, my friends, my interests, patterns of behaviour, nothing seem to change. Over here, everything is a struggle, but so far it hasn't been routine.

Ok, so I don't have a job yet, but I do feel like this place is home now.