Can you give up room service? Survive without a concierge? If you want to save money and experience a European neighborhood, rent an apartment.
By Joe PollackIn Barcelona, we stayed in a large one-bedroom apartment just off the Ramblas, one of the world’s great walking streets (think Broadway or the Champs d’Elysees, Piccadilly Circus or the Spanish Steps). A wide street with a large pedestrian area in the middle, the Ramblas is always the same and always changing. It hums with bars and restaurants and newsstands, street jugglers, mimes, human statues and other entertainers. Turning left on the Ramblas took us to La Boqueria, one of the finest food markets in the world. Turning right, we could walk a few blocks to the Christopher Columbus statue on the waterfront. We spent less than $100 a day on our apartment, which had windows overlooking a bar patronized by singers. When it closed at 3 a.m., we had a 20-minute serenade. We also had our own neighborhood streetwalker, a slightly overage and overweight woman who quietly patrolled the block almost every day in a short skirt and long boots.
Our Paris apartment, in the Marais district (Fourth Arrondissement), was smaller, without a separate bedroom, though it cost a few dollars more. There was an elevator (it held one person and one suitcase at a time), and our windows looked out on an array of chimney pots that recalled movies about poor young lovers gazing out at the moonlit city. Speaking of young lovers, the beds were extremely comfortable. There was even sufficient hot water, although it took some discussion with our Paris landlord to convince him that we both often took showers on the same day.
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Our favorite thing about both apartments was the fact that they were in real neighborhoods, where real people, not tourists, lived and worked. This was especially true in Paris, where the neighborhood had many Asians and many wholesale outlets dealing in Chinese-made purses, decorator fabrics, gadgets and cute-but-useless items perfectly defined by the Yiddish word tchotchkes. The cafés, tiny groceries and bars were patronized by natives but patient with visitors—and glad to help us pretend we weren’t tourists.
