Ten Days of Limbo: Living Between Two Homes

Arriving in Valencia felt like the hard part was over. We’d made the drive, survived a day in the car with Lexie and the birds, and had the keys to our new apartment in hand. All that was left was to wait for our things to arrive.

In my boyish optimism, I thought a week would be plenty. We rolled in on July 23. The movers had originally estimated delivery on the 29th or 30th. Easy, right?

For that “in between” week, we’d booked into the Valencia branch of the Only You hotel, and it was worth every cent. It’s not cheap, but it made the transition so much more pleasant, and the flexibility was priceless. Comfortable, stylish, spotless, with friendly staff and a breakfast so good it deserves its own award.

Less expensive hotels in the city want payment in advance and offer no refunds if you leave early. The Only You let us book for a week, with just 24 hours’ notice needed if we decided to check out sooner. Pay when you leave. No hassle.

That flexibility turned out to be… important.

While waiting for the truck, we kept ourselves as productive as possible:

• The new sofa was delivered on the 25th.
• The internet was connected and working on the same day.
• We ordered kitchen units and an island (estimated delivery: August 11).
• We sorted out our banking. We closed our disappointing Sabadell accounts and opened new ones with Santander.
• I completed my registration for self-employment status.
• We got our permanent resident cards at the police station.

We also visited the apartment at least twice a day to feed Lexie and keep her company. Some afternoons, we just stayed there with her for a few hours so she wouldn’t feel abandoned in her new space.

And then, in a rare bit of moving magic, both the wall units and the kitchen island arrived early. No warning, no scheduling email, just a knock at the door and a delivery guy ready to unload. Since the apartment was still mostly empty, we simply leaned them against the wall to deal with later, once the rest of the furniture caught up.

Communication with the movers was… problematic. At first, they confirmed July 31 for delivery, pending final confirmation. Then, without much warning, the date shifted to August 4.

When I complained, they gave me the “it’s the busy season” excuse.
My response: “So, you contracted for more jobs than you could handle? How is that MY problem?”

Unfortunately, it didn’t do any good. They had me over a barrel, and I had to take what I could get.

We genuinely loved staying at the Only You. Nice lounge, great rooms, and a staff who made us feel valued. They were excited to welcome us to the city, and we had more than a few conversations with them about the move.

But after a while, the novelty wore thin. We missed our bed. We missed our stuff.

Without plates, pans, or utensils, we couldn’t cook in the apartment — and there are only so many sandwiches you can eat. As good as Valencia’s restaurants are, restaurant food for almost every meal eventually loses its charm.

By 1 August, the delivery date was firmly confirmed for the 4th. Start time: 8:00 AM.

We checked out of the hotel at 7:00, made the 8-minute walk to the apartment, and got ready for the next part of the adventure: Delivery Day.