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I am back on the train, and this time, I will be staying in a co-living community called Ruralco. The mountains of Spain, about two hours from Valencia, will be my home for the next two weeks. The house is set up and managed by Oscar, who grew up here and seems dedicated to running a clean, smooth and friendly household.
So far, I have stayed at two Artist Residencies, and I am curious to find out what it is like to stay at a co-living house. Is it different to an art residency, and if so, how?
So before I dive into my life here, I want to explain the difference in set-up between an Artist Residency, An Artist Retreat and a Co-living community.
See my next blog!
I have arrived!
But before digging into my new location, I am first going to try and explain the difference between:
-Artist Residencies-Retreats
-Co-living Communities
My words are based on personal experience and chats with fellow residents while staying at various places.
An artist residency often involves a selection process; some are easy and some challenging. This means you submit a proposal beforehand, explaining what you aim to work on and which skills you wish to grow or improve. Once there, through group presentations, artist visits or meetings with gallery owners, the residency can help you evolve as an artist and grow your network. You get your own workstation or studio during your stay, depending on your field. Some residencies focus on a specific art, such as writing residencies, while others cater for a mix.
A retreat is literally what it says: You retreat somewhere so you can dedicate all your time to the activity you choose to do there. This can be in a rented cottage, a room, a hotel or BnB, or in a community. The focus is on quietly working -often alone- and less on networking, or developing your skills. You choose where and when you go and book.
Co-living communities are popping up fast as they offer a perfect working environment for Digital Nomads. You can usually book a stay for a month or more, and they will provide a private room, solid internet, workspaces and meeting rooms. This is a good lifestyle for people who work remotely and love travel while meeting people from all over the world. Meals are often shared, and group activities add to a cohesive household.
As I make my way to Ruralco, I can't wait to find out what living here is like. Will it be different from my previous experiences in the artist residencies?
I was warmly welcomed at the Castellon station by Oscar, the owner of Ruralco, who drove us the hour-long road to his casa rural. Chatting in my crumbly Spanish, trying to get most of his, I found out that it was newly built in 2000, but constructed like a traditional Spanish country house. The 14 bedrooms can host up to 28 people. At the moment we are 8.The windmill next door, a monument that needs fixing up, is also in his care.
He initially set up the co-living community with two friends, but while they ventured off abroad and into marriage, he stuck with it and has since added his sister, who runs the emails and other digital corners of the job, to the staff.
Growing up here, he is well-connected and seems the perfect person to blend the rural ways of nearby towns such as Culla, with the different needs of the people staying at his casa.
As we swirled through olive groves, almond groves, and up the mountain to about 600m, Oscar finally pointed out a tall building with a white facade beaming at us in the sun. Welcome to Ruralco.
Entering the warm house, I immediately felt at ease, welcomed by a friendly bunch of people, chilling on the gigantic sofa facing the open fire.
El Chapo, a French bull terrier, jumped up my shins (as far as his little legs got him) and tickled my hands with his tongue.
The people staying here at the moment are an international mix from Argentina, the UK, Alaska, Poland, and Spain. some are here as volunteers to help Oscar run this place, while others work in software, marketing and coding.
Sitting down for dinner, I was served a steamy bowl of creamy tuna pasta and enjoyed the chatter and laughs that rolled around the table, followed by card games by the fire. Happy landing, Talia
Arriving on a Friday was a fun way to start my stay here.
My weekend was a perfect blend of chats by the fireplace, reading, venturing off on my first hike with Gianni from Argentina, and the local activities offered to us by Oscar.
At night, we went for tapas in Culla, then to the observatory for some semi-professional stargazing.While the cold wind hammered through our jackets (we were at 1000m), two experts showed us stars, constellations, planets, and the Milky Way. Then we were allowed to look through their telescope and went up close and personal with Orion's belt, Jupiter, and the moon.
On Sunday, we drove to Culla for the truffle fair. The medieval town served as a beautiful backdrop for the little stalls selling truffles, other local food such as honey and almonds, and artisan products. A live band and a bar selling locally brewed beer and tapas topped it all off.
After a whirlwind weekend of activities, I was curious to see how this household would flow on workdays. On Saturday and Sunday, the casa was silent until about 10 am, after which people carefully emerged from their caves. Some not until noon.
Not so on Monday morning.
When I walked downstairs at 9 am, people were whizzing through like well-coordinated ants.
Coffee aroma, tea kettle bubbling, the smell of toast. Scrambled eggs and spinach on the stove, porridge leftovers in a bowl, half a banana in its peel. Laptops were carried to and fro like babies in a daycare centre.This household meant business.
The salon (lounge) with the oversized couch and fireplace also serves as our office. One wall is lined with desks and sockets. We have naturally gravitated towards personalised little hubs along there.
While making financial decisions, writing project proposals or setting up marketing strategies, the majestic green mountains goggle at us through the large windows. "Why don't you come out and play?"
Oskar walks around with earplugs in his ears -he is in a meeting- his laptop held up in front of him while he juggles a plate of fried eggs in the other, speaking business lingo in Polish.
Joe rolls a squeaky wheelbarrow piled with logs past us to refuel the fire, giving the room a nice, smokey air.
Nara is snuggled on the sofa with her laptop and pods. She mouths: "I have a presentation all day today. But I just need to listen."Later, I find her in the kitchen preparing a cake. "How is your presentation going?" I ask her. "It's good; I am still in it." The cake mix smells rich and sweet.
Gianni is mopping the kitchen floor meticulously and wiping down surfaces that probably haven't seen a cloth in a while. She is also the one who showed me around on day one. She floats through the house like a quiet butterfly, but I strongly suspect she is the one who secretly runs this household.
At around 2 pm, we eat lasagna and salad together, and after a quick communal swoop, clearing the table and the dishes, people scatter around the house. Some slide back to their workstation; some go down for a siesta. Gianni and I go for a hike. "I am coming, mountains!"
Before coming here, I studied the website and Instagram account to get a feel for the place. After arriving, it seemed as easy-going and friendly as their socials suggested.
The kitchen, however, is organised and refined, unlike anything I was expecting.
El Reunion
On Sunday evenings, we meet to discuss the upcoming week and activities that we'll do. This can be anything from games night, a workshop, a castle visit, pottery, art gallery, wine tasting, you name it.
But most importantly, teams of two are formed to cook the meals for the next week. Each pair plans and prepares one lunch and one dinner. (anyone who spontaneously feels like baking is more than welcome to do so)
But this is just the start. There is more!
Once paired up, the games begin.
The newlyweds sit together, sprawled around the lounge and comedor (dining area), with a patient notepad awaiting ingredients. 'What about a broccoli soup?' 'What is Cottage pie in Spanish?' 'Have we done risotto yet?' 'Is there a hand blender in the house?' 'Shall we make empanadas? Hang on, that means tarta in Spain, not in Argentina.'
In the kitchen is a large whiteboard with the weekly schedule.
Each day gets two squares: lunch and dinner.
The happy couples mark their names in two timeslots while slaloming around work meetings, family calls and other commitments. Meanwhile, all the other teams are doing the same. You can imagine the haggling that goes on. 'Can we swap your Tuesday lunch for our Wednesday?'
Somehow, after a frantic dance, it works out.
Once that's done, the final leg begins.
The race for the ingredients.
The food in the kitchen is organised on shelves like a mini supermarket. The two large fridges and freezer follow the same regimen.With their little shopping list in hand, each team starts grabbing the necessary ingredients for their two meals and puts them on designated shelves on another rack. Are you doing a Thai curry for lunch on Wednesday? Then your Basmati rice and sauce go on the shelf marked 'Wednesday lunch'.
Missing an ingredient? You simply add them to the shopping list on the whiteboard.
Are you tired yet? After this mad run for meals, I slump back on the couch near the fire, exhausted.
Bon Appetit.
I get asked many questions concerning my stay in Spain, but the one I get most is:
"Can I do this too?"
You can do this too.
Here's how.
Firstly, the cost of living in a residency or co-living is relatively low.
The places I look at cost €500 to €1200 a month.
You usually share meals, which leaves you paying about €50-75 per week on food.
I have a temporary tenant watch my apartment while I'm gone, which covers my general living costs in Amsterdam.
When you pick a place in the countryside, you can't hop into a shop or go out at night to spend your dineros. The kind of people who choose these locations are like-minded as they don't opt for heavy drinking or wild parties either, keeping the general household budget low.
Many of my fellow co-livers here at Ruralco are digital nomads; they don't pay rent or mortgage. They often own a car, a storage space, and a postal address. Some of the people I've met at the art residencies were applying for their next stay while there, and generally hop from one to the next all year round.
I hear you say now: 'I have a job, kids, a partner, two cats, and a house to pay off.
And what if I am not an artist or digital nomad?'
Well, why not do it for short periods at a time?
Here at Ruralco, you pay €200 a week for a room with an ensuite and about €50 for food.
Add a flight -or train, try taking the train!- and calculate what fits your budget and schedule.
Canserrat, the art residency near Barcelona I was at, takes in ‘habitantes’ who pay per night. One woman from Barcelona stayed with us for a week to work on her academic thesis.
Many artist residencies have a paid program, which means you get to go for free. As these are usually harder to get into, you need to allow yourself some time to produce a convincing proposal.
'So what's the advantage, compared to working or writing from home?
'Two words: No. Distraction.'
I am much more productive when writing my stories at the art residencies or while here, catching up on dusty chores for my Story Lounge. Time works magic here.
Additionally, the lessons I’ve learnt and connections I’ve made are priceless and have made me grow into a stronger, more confident writer and teacher.
I hope this answers your questions, but feel free to send me more!
This link leads you to co-working spaces: https://coliving.com
And this one is nice for art residencies: https://resartis.org
After two weeks in my first co-living house, I can now quietly look back.
My main question entering the house (besides, what's it like?) was how it compared to my previous experiences in Art Residencies. Would this more commercial setting be very different?
The people drawn to staying in a house in the middle of nowhere inevitably have lots in common. Whether to work on their art or do more corporate work, they all have an open mind, are willing to quietly let others into their lives, and share a deep love and respect for nature.
What surprised me the most was how playful all my housemates were, both at the art residencies as well as at Ruralco. From the way they created quirky cakes from leftover dough, made clay creations from the soil around the house, reshaped elements of plants and flowers into meaningful art pieces, to the way they recycled toilet rolls and carton egg boxes into elegant Christmas decorations.
Playing games by the fire, spending hours in the kitchen cooking and baking, nature walks, reading books, and engaging in conversations about lifestyle, friendship, and cultural heritage were all part of the package of a rural setting, and they were a perfect background to my writing projects and Story Lounge work.
Whether you dive into a meeting to determine if you will be accepted into an art program for your next art residency or to get your investor to pump thousands of dollars into your new start-up, in the end, we are all a bunch of grown-ups sharing our lives for a while like a little family.
I came in wondering about the difference between an art residency and a co-living community.
I learnt that what really matters is what connects people. What makes them tick, together, and what can I learn from them? The question faded out, and I am left here, a little more connected than I was before.
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