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Published: February 12th 2011
Stress Relief
Beach Ball Break at the OfficeI was late for an apartment showing and sprinting across a five-lane intersection, dodging cars, rickshaws, and the inevitable herd of Beijingers out conducting their daily activities, when it occurred to me that I had no idea how to say 'glass-enclosed shower' in Chinese, something that was high on my list of requirements for a new living space. My pace slowed as I realized I would be pantomiming taking a shower all afternoon (I was jolted out of self-pity by an irate mule; apparently I was blocking his path) and groaned inwardly. It was becoming painfully clear that this year's search was going to be
even more fun than last year's.
I had been living in a tiny 40 square meter apartment for the past year (for those of you who don't speak metric system, that is approximately 3.47593 square feet). The refrigerator was in the living room (come to think of it, so was the microwave, washing machine, and kitchen table), the bedroom comprised half of the apartment, and I showered over the toilet. It was time for an upgrade. Thus, the exquisite experience of searching for a new apartment in the Beijing real estate market.
oh, joy.
I had already determined that this year's search would have stricter parameters to follow than last year's (the motto of which had been "no roaches, no problem"). My wish list included at least 55 square meters, a bathroom that had a separate showering space, on the 5th floor or higher, and within 2 kilometers of my current neighborhood. I began my search by scanning the real estate listings on local expatriate websites. I soon discovered that any ad that declared in bold capital letters "I AM NOT AN AGENT" had been posted by, you guessed it, a real estate agent. I was also bemused to find that the exact same photos had been posted on multiple websites. Of course, it was completely plausible that a 3-bedroom apartment in a building called "Bauhinia Court" would look exactly the same as a studio housed in a local Chinese building. Obviously.
I didn't really know what type of ride I was in for until I arrived at the first apartment of the day. The agent was waiting for me in front of the entrance to the compound, which was just next door to the beloved Bookworm. I introduced myself
in Chinese, using my Chinese name, Lin Ya-hui (林雅慧). His reaction would be the first of many similar reactions that day- amazement that I was American and not an individual hailing from somewhere outside of Beijing (apparently, I haven't quite perfected the local accent, but I'm happy with my more standard
putonghua . There are enough pirates in the city as it is (local Beijingers tend to add a hearty "arrr" to the end of words, so that is a standard joke among expats living here)).
The agent could not have been more than 23 years of age and was about my height. I almost felt as though I should tell him to look both ways before we crossed the street (though that's not such a terrible idea, given the chaotic state of Beijing motorways). The apartment building, in contrast, looked as though it were about 55 years old and had never looked in any direction before crossing the street. My first inkling that the apartment was not for me came when we stepped into the elevator. A young woman sat behind a minature desk on the side of the elevator near the floor buttons- it was her
Taking a Break at Work
Engineering is all fun and games job to press the buttons for each tenant. While that may sound ritzy, the true meaning of the elevator operator was that it did not run 24 hours a day. Strike One.
Strike Two came when we knocked on the door of the apartment and I could smell cigarrette smoke wafting under the door. As a non-smoker, I am very sensitive to smoke and avoid it whenever possible (hey, Beijing does have some smoke-free facilities now). I didn't want to waste the agent's time, so I pre-emptively let him know that I wouldn't be taking that particular apartment. He insisted that we at least take a look, so to humor him, I pushed open the door and stepped directly into Strike Three. Rotting floorboards.
Next!
I was fairly optimistic about my next appointment. The apartment was located in the same building as the hotel in which my aunt and cousin had stayed while visiting me in Beijing last year for Chinese New Year and central to many of the locales I frequented. My interest was piqued when the agent (a young woman this time) confirmed that there was a glass-enclosed shower in the apartment, it was 55
square meters, and on the 22nd floor. Feeling excited and hopeful that the search would conclude that day with a happy result, I followed her down the hallway to the apartment door. She swung it open to reveal....darkness. Total and complete black blanketed the apartment. Apparently, the previous tenant had used up the electricity (in many apartment complexes in China, electricity is added through pre-paid cards) and the agents were unwilling to use any precious cash to make the apartment appear more attractive to prospective tenants. Or to appear at all, really.
Next!
The third apartment was in the same building and had a similar layout to the second (I can only assume, as I never did see the second apartment). I was feeling cautiously optimistic as the agent and I stepped through the doorway....and then my hopes were abruptly dashed. The glass-enclosed shower I so desired? The apartment...it had one. Oh, yes. The shower was located on the outside wall of the bathroom, completely exposed to the rest of the apartment. A guest sitting on the sofa would have had a stellar view. I can only imagine that the interior designer of that space had a wicked
Dig In!
Delicious Fish Dinner with Wen Lei and her Cousin's Girlfriend sense of humor and was into exhibitionism. I was all for being comfortable in my own home, but that went a little too far.
Next!
The fourth apartment sounded promising, but the current tenant would not have left until a week after my current lease ended, and I would have had to sign the new lease apartment sight unseen.
Next!
The fifth apartment was located smack dab in the middle of the Sanlitun bar street nightlife area. I had spent my junior year of university living in an apartment that formed a trifecta with three of the noisiest, rowdiest bars on the campus and I did not miss the nightly police raids, 3 AM last call drunken revelry, and smell of bacon (one bar served free bacon with any drink order on Tuesdays. Don't ask. It's Wisconsin). I was not in a hurry to repeat the experience.
Next!
The sixth and seventh apartments were both studios and less than 50 square meters each. Since my ultimate purpose for finding a larger place was to have room for a digital piano, it seemed pointless to consider them, however nice or clean they were.
Next!
Almost Famous
Hong Kong Movie Being Filmed in an Alley Near My Apartment Next!
I was in the middle of attempting to convince myself that my current apartment wasn't
that bad (brushing my teeth in the shower? Hello, timesaver!) when I got a call to go see what would be apartment number eight. Not feeling terribly optimistic, I agreed to go see the apartment. The agent, a cheerful young woman I had come to like and trust, hesitated before telling me the second half of her invitation. The couple who owned the apartment were extremely selective about tenants and had already turned down half a dozen applicants based on first impression alone. I was to meet the husband, and if I passed the first round, would then meet his wife. So, no pressure.
Hoping my charming personality and non-threatening demeanor would win the husband over, I arrived at the apartment. Coincidentally, it turned out to be exactly one floor below that of one of my good friends in Beijing and had a security door in addition to the front door. So far, so good. I nearly gasped when I stepped across the threshold and caught sight of the gleaming red wood floors, expansive living room and view of the
Beijing skyline through the window. My excitement mounted as I discovered a new treasure in each room- a bathtub with jets! A guest bathroom! A study that could be used as a music room! Brand new living furniture and a 40" flatscreen TV! A balcony! Afraid to jinx myself, I nonchalantly told the husband I thought the apartment would suit me just fine. His eyes crinkled as he smiled and he reached into his pocket for his cell phone to call his wife. I'd passed Round One.
I heard his wife before I saw her. She was a confident woman with firmly-rooted opinions and a robust laugh. I liked her immediately. She gave me a second tour of the apartment, bluntly pointing out things that needed to be fixed and assuring me they would be taken care of after the Chinese New Year (this was justified, as most repairmen hail from outside Beijing and had already returned to their hometowns for the holiday). When I asked her whether she and her husband could remove an extra cabinet from the study to make room for my to-be-purchased digital piano, she readily agreed and then offered to give me an extra upright piano she had "just lying around." I managed to stay cool and replied that I would very much appreciate her offer, but the refrain in my head was more like "OMG OMG OMG Piano Piano Piano!!".
A real piano. In my apartment. I still can't believe it.
By the end of the afternoon, she was telling me to call her "Auntie" and inviting me to her hometown for the New Year. It seemed I had passed the test. I collected my keys, got the number of a moving company, and the rest, as they say, is history.
At least until next year.
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Bigbrother
Lee DaeHyung
Is Mr.Wang Smoker?
I can guess 王丹, Wang-Dan(man) may be a smoker. because 李漢, Li-han(woman)'s ballon is bigger than Wang's. I don't know whether I can hear your speaking voices of Chinese friend's names exactly or not. In the video clip, I can know that your speaking Chinese is as well as native Chinese. I just can hear "Ceci Ceci(謝謝)". It is very interesting of your effort-tour- to look for your good apartment and sounds of fireworks make me surprise suddenly. Your Chinese name, 林(Lin, forest)雅(ya, graceful)慧(Hui, clever) is very beautiful. you are graceful and clever woman as your Chinese name. when your name is written in Korean as follows, Merritt Amelia Wilson is “메리트 아멜리아 윌슨” and 林雅慧 is "림아혜". My name is "이대형" in Korean, "李岱衡 "in Chinese. Can you guess what does my name means? "李" is my family name, "衡" is given by my ancestors and "岱" is my own name. from your reader in Dae-gu city, SoKo.