The Fuzzy Roommate: What No One Tells You About Spanish Homes 🫠🏠

There are many surprises waiting for you when you move to Spain. Most are delightful.

The sunshine. The three-hour lunches. The coffee that costs less than a Euro.

And then there’s the other kind of surprise. The kind where you wake up one morning, squint at your bedroom wall, and realize…

It’s looking back at you.

Yes. Mould. And I don’t mean a cute little speck of mildew in the shower grout.

I’m talking about a lush, biodiversity-rich ecosystem. I’m talking about the kind of fuzz that makes you wonder if your apartment is trying to grow its own sweater.

Welcome to Spain’s least Instagrammable reality: The Great Insulation Illusion.

My Personal Mouldy Moment (Or: How I Became an Archaeologist of Damp)

One of the first houses I rented looked stunning on viewing day.

Bright light. High ceilings. Walls so white they hurt your eyes. The landlord proudly declared it “Freshly painted!”

(Pro Tip: In the dictionary of Spanish rentals, "Freshly Painted" is usually a synonym for "I just painted over a colony of mushrooms 20 minutes ago.")

Fast forward three weeks into winter. I am standing in my bedroom wearing a beanie and gloves, literally scraping the wall with a spatula like some sort of deranged DIY goblin.

The smell? Damp earth. The texture? Porridge. The betrayal? Absolute.

I wasn’t living in a cheap ruin. This was a "nice" apartment. But suddenly, my wall had the texture of a Roquefort cheese, and I was the cracker.

Why Spanish Houses Are Basically Stone Tents

Here is the secret that architects don’t tell you: Spanish homes were not built for humans to survive winter.

They were built to:

• Survive the nuclear heat of August.
• Keep the sun out at all costs.
• Create a lovely, cool draft.

What they were not built for:

• Rain.
• Temperatures below 15°C.
• The human desire to not freeze to death.

When you add single-pane windows (which are basically just glass saran wrap) and zero central heating to a damp winter, the moisture has nowhere to go. So, it settles on your walls. It moves in. It starts paying rent.

Northern Spain: Beautiful, Green… and Aquatic 🌧️

This is strictly for my friends in the North (Galicia, Asturias, Cantabria, Basque Country).

You know why it’s so incredibly green and beautiful up there? Because it never stops raining.

If you move to the North, you don't just need an apartment; you need an apartment with gills. More rainfall + stone buildings = humidity levels that would make a tropical rainforest jealous.

This doesn't mean you shouldn't live there. It’s gorgeous. It just means that mould isn’t an accident up North; it’s a lifestyle.

The “Freshly Painted” Trap

Let’s go back to that landlord trick.

If you walk into a viewing and the place smells like a swimming pool (bleach) mixed with wet dog (damp), run.

Fresh paint is the "makeup" of the rental world. It can hide a multitude of sins, but only for about two weeks.

• Smell the cabinets.
• Touch the walls. (Yes, actually touch them. Are they weeping?)
• Trust your nose. If it smells damp, it is damp. There is no such thing as "it just rained today" damp. That is "deep in the bones of the building" damp.

How to Survive (and Not Die of Spores)

I have learned the hard way so you don’t have to. Here is my survival kit:

• The Dehumidifier is God: Do not buy a small one. Buy the industrial size. You will empty this tank daily. You will pour the water out and think, "This came out of the air? How am I not drowning?"
• Ventilation: You must open the windows every day. Even when it is freezing. Yes, it defeats the purpose of heating. Welcome to Spain.
• Look Behind the Couch: If a landlord puts a wardrobe or sofa specifically in a corner, look behind it. That is usually where the fuzzy monster lives.

The Bottom Line

Moving to Spain is amazing. It really is. But you have to stop looking for "Dream House" and start looking for "Dry House."

• Dry walls > Aesthetic Spanish tiles.
• Double glazing > Exposed wooden beams.
• Lung health > Rustic charm.

And if a landlord tells you, "Oh, humidity isn't really a thing in this building"?

Smile politely. Back away slowly. And check your shoes for moss on the way out.