articles
China Elevator Stories
A Hurt Toe and a New Home
A property agent takes me around Shenzhen on his motorcycle to look for a flat.
26/12/2012
Ruth Silbermayr
Author
My company calls me to let me know that I need a tenancy agreement within the next one or two days. I had asked my landlord about this before, but he cannot issue me a tenancy agreement. Thus, I have to look for a new flat. I have moved apartments at least 15 times in my life, but never has looking for a flat been as enthralling as it was this one time in November 2012.
I look up places online, and after finding a few suitable apartments, I call a property agent who agrees to show me the listings. An hour later, I arrive at the subway stop where he told me to meet him. He picks me up on his motorcycle and shows me one flat after another. I realize that most of the flats look far more beautiful in the pictures than they do in real life. Many of the photos even show completely different flats, and the actual rent is much higher than the prices listed online. I am disappointed to visit one flat after another, only to find that they are all dirty, moldy, noisy, and expensive on top of that.
I am running out of time. Not able to find a suitable apartment, the property agent calls up another agent from a rival firm. He joins us, and there we are—three people crammed onto a motorcycle, riding through the crowded streets of Shenzhen. It’s a sunny day with blue skies, and I enjoy the view during the ride—up until the moment I hurt my big toe really badly while we zigzag our way around road marker posts.
We continue with our search after picking up an ointment for my toe from a pharmacy. After a whole day of looking for a flat, we are about to call it a day when suddenly someone calls and tells us that we can see a flat a little later that night. We still have more than an hour to go, so the property agent suggests we visit an arcade.
I have never been to a place like that before. We kill time playing games until one of the guys there becomes really annoying. His face comes dangerously close to mine, and I can smell his breath, reeking of alcohol. Luckily, the property agent is quick to tell him that I am his girlfriend and that he should back off. I’m grateful for this little lie, as it makes the guy back off immediately. The property agent grasps the situation much faster than I do.
When it’s finally time to see the flat, the three of us get on the motorcycle and head to the last apartment for the evening. Immediately upon entering, I feel that this is the apartment I have been looking for—clean, new, bright, and homey. After talking for about an hour, I agree to rent it.
A little later, I take the night bus home. The property agents have told me to call when I arrive safely. When I get off the bus, one of them calls me, sounding nervous. He asks if anyone is following me. I reply with a perplexed ‘no’. He then tells me to look around carefully to make sure no one is following me. I look around, but the only other person who got off at the same stop has already left. He then explains that there was a guy waiting at the bus stop, and only after he saw that I was getting on the bus did he get on too.
I arrive home safely but forget to call the property agent. He must have been worried to death, but I am so tired after this day of apartment hunting that all I can think about is my bed.
What are your experiences with apartment hunting abroad?