Bohemian Rhapsody

Yesterday I wrote about my new apartment and how it feels so bohemian.

That's probably in part because the owner (my new roommate) works in theater. She recently wrote, directed and starred in a short play called Encuentros en la tercera frase. That's actually a play on words of the Spanish translation of the film Close Encounters of the Third Kind (Encuentros en la tercera fase). And from what she's told me about it, it's three vignettes of people encountering others who are completely foreign to them (joggers in a park, a wealthy lady and a homeless woman, etc.).

But the bohemian-ness probably also has to do with the style: pretty abstract paintings decorate the walls, along with other objects from all of her travels. The desk that I'm writing this post on is an old Singer sewing table that's been white-washed and fitted with a solid-wood top (C claims that it was the sewing table that her grandmother and mother both used). 

Even my bed has the most gorgeous vintage lace sheets and a dusky pink blanket that would not be out of place at Anthropologie (though I highly doubt she paid Anthropologie prices for such bedding). 

Today starts three days of Fulbright orientation, so I'll be leaving this adorable house to go stay in a hotel near there. It will be nice to live in a bit of luxury on someone else's dime, but I'm already pretty attached to this un-air-conditioned, bohemian, 4-floor walk-up. Let's hope the charm never fades.