Dona E. Bowens

My friends, my friends…the journey hit a speed bump and I had to call on the wisdom of my diva clan and the Divine Mother herself. I thought that I’d land in Uruguay and then throw some money around and bada bing, bada boom, I’d be sitting pretty in my new flat happier than a pig in shit.

But the universe said, “Hold up! Wait a minute.” See, so far, once I got on the right path—ditching my original plan to return to Barcelona—selling the car and the house went smoothly, even got a job offer before even leaving Amerikkka. Once I got on that path, shit just started falling into place. I thought the housing situation would be easy, too. Especially considering that I’m what’s known in certain circles as “Nigga Rich.” (Black people, forgive me for telling that little phrase to the masses, especially in today’s fractured society.) In short, I thought money would do my talking.

I consulted Dana, my expat FB group, I watched a video from that group about renting in Montevideo. I decided to get a realtor to run interference for me because, damn, I’m tired. “Point and Pay,” my dear friend Damaris always says. Point to what you need done and pay someone to do it. I’m all about that right now. From the expat FB group I found realtor Daniel, advertising in English to help poor little expats like me to get set up. On day 7 in Montevideo, I learned how the busses worked and found myself sitting in Daniel’s office.

Apparently, there’s two ways to get a flat in Uruguay. The most common way is to take your work contract to an insurance agency which will vet your paperwork and back you when you bid on a place. The insurance guarantee is for when you fuck up on the rent, the insurance will square it with the landlord. The other way, which is the only way I can go at this point, is to fork over a chunk of change. I told Daniel, depending on the price. I could fork over 6 months rent in advance. I don’t have my work contract, yet, and what’s more, even if I did, you have to have 3 months working under your belt to get insured. I figured it’d be easy to get a landlord to accept a chunk of change because, how do students get apartments or the independently Nigga Rich…uh, I mean the independently wealthy? You gonna tell Oprah you’d prefer it if she showed insurance.

Well, 3 days into our quest, Daniel starts complaining, politely, about how very hard he is working on my case. No one, not one of the 40 landlords he’d contacted on my behalf were willing to take a big ole sack of cash, so to speak. But not to worry, Daniel told me, he’d just placed another American couple with double the budget so he was sure he could find me a spot. By the way, you should know that most apartments in Montevideo come unfurnished. I need you to understand that “unfurnished” means down to the appliances. Yeah, y’all, not only looking to splat down a load of cash, but would have to buy a fridge, stove and a washer if there’s a hook up for one. I could feel myself becoming white trash poor at the thought.

So, any ole way, Daniel finds a second place for me to look at. The first place he found for me looked nice, but on closer inspection, it really didn’t have a kitchen, just an alcove with a microwave, sink and what looked like an air fryer, and there were no closets. I mean, I have reduced my possessions to 3 bags which ain’t much in the whole scheme of things, but where was I supposed to store my 12 pairs of Chuck Taylor’s when I unpack? So I passed on the first place. Place number 2 was bare bones and an ok price in my first choice of neighborhoods. Daniel set up a time to visit. Then he told me, “If you like this place, we have to jump on it. You should be ready to put down $600 to reserve it right then and there.” Then he went on to say, “Not to pressure you or anything, but I’ve been working hard on this for you and finding a landlord to work with someone in your situation isn’t easy.”

Really, Daniel? I was starting not to believe a word out of this mofo’s mouth. But I started the process to get 600 cash in case I liked the place. And mind you, this 600 would be to reserve the spot, it wouldn’t go towards a deposit. Just 600 bucks for the owner to wipe their ass with and laugh. The limit on an ATM withdrawal here is 300/day. So, per Daniel’s suggestion, I try to Western Union the cash to myself. And this is where the universe kicked in and started protecting childish optimists like myself from the scumbags of the world.

Sign up for Western Union and try to send myself the money via my debit card. BLOCKED. Ok, it’s a debit card, they’re kinda touchy. Tried to send myself the cash with a credit card. BLOCKED. All righty then. I call both the credit card company and my bank, explain what I’m doing and they both removed the fraud blocks and told me to give it another shot. Get back on Western Union and try the credit card and debit card again. BLOCKED AND DOUBLE BLOCKED. But this time I have a new message to call Western Union customer care and to give them the rejection code when I do. I call Western Union and do you know what they said? They said, “Nahhhhh, baby girl. We don’t like the looks of this transaction so we’re going to pass. This is for your own protection.”

I couldn’t help but smile. Damn, Divine Mother. You went as far as to block me from Western Union with my own money. I’m listening. I hear you. I call Daniel and tell him the situation. He said I could get 300 from an ATM and he’s sure he could get the landlord to accept it to reserve the place. “But,” he said, “On Monday or Tuesday, we can’t sign any papers until there is cash. You’ll need x-thousands of dollars. Look into a wire transfer. What’s the name of your bank?”

Do y’all smell that fishy smell? Or is it just me? Something was stinking to high hell and my spidey sense was going off. I reminded myself that when it’s right, it’s easy. This wasn’t easy at all. So I sent Daniel a voice-mail via WhatsApp thanking him for his hard, hard work and informing him that I would be walking away. Then I put him on mute. He sent me about 5 or 6 messages that are unread. I felt instant relief to be free of him without having lost a dime. I’m convinced that was Divine Intervention.

About an hour later, I got a message from the owner of my airbnb saying, “Would you be interested in staying at my place. I could work out a special deal for a long-term stay?”

To Be Continued…Subscribe…It’s free, unlike Daniel’s little scheme.