[For an audio/vlog version of this story, click here.]
For the second time this year, I find myself in the privileged position of looking after a fancy Bogotá apartment for a few weeks while its occupants are on holidays.
Work from home? No way! Work from a café is where it’s at.
To give some idea of the apartment’s opulence and, more tellingly, an indication of the scale of Colombia’s inequality, the monthly rent here is roughly the same as the country’s annual minimum salary. Its location in a high-stratum neighbourhood plays an important part in this inflated rent. Let’s just say it’s a bit beyond my means and that of most Colombians.
Home is where the backpack is
So in contrast to Garth Brooks, who felt the need to tell the world through song that he’s got friends in low places, I’m letting it be known here that I’ve got friends in fairly high places. OK, I have written about my acquaintances in Bogotá’s low places yet because I also usually reside in such barrios populares, I don’t need to make as much of a song and dance about it as Mr Brooks has. My riff-raff credentials require little verification.
Now, a mixture of uncertainty about my future in the Colombian capital and the need to keep costs down as I go through — what’s that it’s called these days? — ah yes, an economically inactive period has meant that I haven’t looked for anything close to permanent accommodation.
Through invites and a room deal reached with a friend who owed me money, Bogotá has been my main base without my having to find a new place since I returned to Colombia in February this year after a three-month visit to Ireland. I have been, quite literally, living out of my backpack.
Yet, once this apartment-sitting stint is done, I face that perennial headache: finding somewhere suitable to live.
The room with the friend who owed me money is an option but it’s far from ideal. This is because, for one, the room is tiny. I also don’t want to apartment-share anymore.
‘In the place where I sleep, cook and clean, I find it hard to do other tasks that require concentration. It’s why I’ve never liked the work-from-home concept.’
For sure, finding my own place in Bogotá isn’t, ostensibly, that complicated. The problem is my aforementioned uncertainty about my being here coupled with the higher costs of solo living. Fully or even half-furnished apartments are hard to find. Taking an unfurnished one and making it liveable would only make sense if I were certain that I’d be in Bogotá for at least another year.
So this brings us back to renting a room in shared accommodation. What I hate the most about such arrangements are kitchen clashes. I want the kitchen to be unoccupied and clean when I need to use it. Living with others means this is far from a given. Sharing with those who like to booze at home is another risk.
Café concentration
My dislike of house-shares aside, I’m not one who enjoys spending a lot of time inside my residence anyway. I get cabin fever if I don’t get out regularly. This is irrespective of where I am.
For example, my current temporary accommodation is close to ideal for me — the biggest snag is that the area is a bit too tame for my liking — yet I couldn’t stay in it all day. (I just like that feeling of returning to the apartment and knowing that I have it all to myself.)
OK, there’s nothing strange in wanting to get out and about. Yet, my issue is that in the place where I sleep, cook and clean I find it hard to do other tasks that require a bit of concentration, some deep thought. It’s why I’ve never liked the work-from-home concept.
While I may be devoid of paid work right now, writing this blog still requires a bit of concentration. Honestly, it does. And even when it comes to reading, I find that I can focus better on text when I’m out as opposed to sitting at home.
That out place isn’t just any random spot either. Cafés, coffee shops and, more commonly in a Colombian context, panaderías are my concentration hotspots. I find libraries a little too staid — unless I need a lot of silence — while the commercial air of shopping centres, or malls if you prefer, is off-putting; it’s a bit too much.
There’s something about cafés and their equivalents that hit the Goldilocks zone.
Creative commons
I’m not alone in feeling this. There’s actually a term for it, the coffee shop effect, where many of us are seen to be more creative and have greater concentration in such places rather than working from home or in an office. For a more detailed background on that, see the BBC article Why you’re more creative in coffee shops.
In brief summation, it has to do with the mild background noise and constantly changing environment — in terms of people coming and going — of coffee shops that act as stimuli for creativity. The sameness of being at home or in an office can impinge upon our creativity and ability to focus. It certainly seems to be the case for me anyway.
So while the apartment I’m currently and temporarily looking after has pretty much everything I need, it simply can’t replicate the coffee shop/panadería effect.
Thankfully, though, panaderías are ten-a-peso in Bogotá. What I consider satisfactory accommodation is far scarcer, particularly when one is on a tight-ish budget.
Thus, the panadería pondering is unlikely to cease just yet. The answers to one’s problems may not be found at the bottom of a beer bottle but perhaps solutions may be forthcoming with a cup of coffee in a public setting.
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