The Hunt - A City Perch for a Reverse Commuter - NYTimes.com LAST fall, Alfredo Sosa-Velasco landed happily in New York as a visiting scholar at New York University. He was provided with a furnished studio with a balcony, for $1,275 a month, in Washington Square Village, the university-owned housing complex. When his yearlong program was almost up, Mr. Sosa-Velasco, who received a Ph.D. in Romance studies from Cornell University, was thrilled to be offered a position teaching Spanish language and literature at Southern Connecticut State University in New Haven. "If you want to be in New York," he said, "you have to be willing to do the commute, because getting a job in New York is very difficult." So Mr. Sosa-Velasco, 36, who was born in Venezuela and grew up in Salamanca, Spain, began the hunt for a place to buy in New York last spring. He knew he would be limited to a no-frills studio. He showed up at an open house for a studio at a co-op on East 88th Street, listed at $275,000, with a monthly maintenance in the mid-$600s. That apartment, with plenty of sun and a brick wall, was nice inside except for the narrow shower. The studio wasn't for him, but there he met Morgan Turkewitz, an agent at Citi Habitats, and decided to search with her. At that point, Mr. Sosa-Velasco knew little about the New York market. "After talking with him, I knew he needed some guidance," Ms. Turkewitz said, "so I sent him some first-time buyer's information." When she informed him it could take four to six months to buy a place, he was aghast. "My first thought was, this is impossible," he said. After all, he had friends who had bought homes elsewhere and had closed the deal within a week, he said. Mr. Sosa-Velasco was interested only in the Upper East Side, from which he could easily reach the 125th Street station to catch the Metro-North train to New Haven. Any place he looked at also had to allow his cat, Rafael. His price range was up to $270,000 and he planned to make a down payment of 10 percent. "I thought the percentage was kind of negotiable," he said. I didn't think it was established by the co-op. After all, some friends had put down a mere 3 percent elsewhere. Ms. Turkewitz informed him that, though some co-ops allow a 10 percent down payment, many require at least 20 percent. "It is not a negotiable thing," she said. It wasn't negotiable with him, either, so from the start, they limited their explorations to cat-friendly buildings that would accept 10 percent down. One possibility was a one-bedroom on the ground floor on East 98th Street. The asking price was $259,000, with maintenance in the high $500s. Mr. Sosa-Velasco liked the convenience of the location but not the long, skinny layout and lack of light. The place remains for sale at $229,000. But two more possibilities arose in a small walk-up building filled with studios, each with a little more than 400 square feet. The building, in the East 80s, allowed cats but not dogs. One of the studios appealed to Mr. Sosa-Velasco. Facing the back of the building, it was listed at $264,000, with maintenance in the low $700s. He especially liked the bathroom, which had a windowed nook perfect for Rafael's litter box. He worried about timing. He had a firm departure date for his N.Y.U. housing, and he didn't want to rent, having calculated that renting was more expensive than buying. "I was, like, what am I going to do with the cat?" he said. He could always crash with friends, but he didn't know "if Rafael would scratch their furniture or something like that. I wouldn't have put my friends in that situation. The co-op board met just in time, however, and allowed Mr. Sosa-Velasco to buy the place for $250,000. He closed in late summer, exactly four months after he met Ms. Turkewitz. He was impressed that she had accurately predicted his apartment-hunting timetable. "I learned so much about real estate in New York City," he said, "I could get the real estate agent license." Mr. Sosa-Velasco had his floors polished and walls painted, and replaced the old kitchen appliances. He had never before owned furniture, so he splurged at Ikea. Everything in the apartment is new, from silverware to scratching post. "I assembled furniture like crazy," he said, doing most of it himself except for the bed and the large mirrored wardrobe. Even with the help of friends, these projects took two days. "The apartment looks completely different from the time that I bought it," he said. At some point he plans to redo part of the kitchen, which has a strange double sink that consumes the limited counter space. The shopping situation in his new neighborhood, with its many large retailers, is especially convenient. In the Village, he found himself going from store to store. There, "the shopping was much more individualized or specialized," he said. It was more trips that you had to take. And now he finds that "something subconscious" seems to be at work: "Whenever I go out, I want to buy something for the apartment." He doesn't mind his long commute, which he makes three or four days a week. A monthly train ticket costs $415. On school days, he usually rises at 5:30. By 6:30, he is heading to the subway, bialy and coffee in hand. The subway leg is one stop on the express. When he arrives in New Haven, after a ride of an hour and 40 minutes, he catches the shuttle provided by the university. "What I like about the commuting is I don't have to drive, which saves me a lot of time," he said. I told my friends that, instead of having office hours, I have train hours. I do all of my reading, grading and lesson plans on the train. He heard that Madonna lives just a few blocks away, as does Ricky Martin. "When I talked to my mom, she was, like, where are you living that you are next to all these people?" he said. You are living in the hot spot. To him, he is. "Now that I have the apartment I am happier than ever," he said. I think that I am the happiest person in the city.