So, apparently, Ariella and I are living in a boliche (club). Let me explain -- our apartment is this ridiculous, ultra-modern confection of exposed brick walls, red metal staircases, glass sinks with silver fixtures, floor to ceiling windows, and rooftop terrace, and we have decided that it needs to be employed as a club, otherwise it will be wasted. My friend John has appropriately named the boliche/departamento "Club Stariella," and we are planning on having our inaugural Stariella fiesta this weekend for my coworker's birthday party. It's the perfect place to have such a gathering because there are four floors (plus the terrace on the roof), and when you stand in the kitchen and look up, you can see into the bedrooms above since the floors are partially grilled. This is probably making no sense as I describe it, but I will post pictures soon and you'll all finally understand the glory that is Club S.
My coworker Spencer's depto, in contrast, which is only 3 blocks from our place, has no hot water, is decorated with old Kahlua bottles and ceramic puppies, and only has one level (not four). Ariella and I lucked out, apparently.