If at first you don’t succeed, try, try, try, try, try…again.

September 11, 2010

I am emotionally and physically exhausted. We have looked at more than 20 apartments in five days; a few, more than once by accident with different real estate agents. Here is generally how the process has gone:

We walk into a real estate office. It is early morning. We have full tummies from breakfast, good walking shoes and are ready to find our Beijing home. The day is full of possibilities.

A pleasant and soft-spoken real estate agent greets us. The agent is generally impressed with Z’s ability to speak Mandarin (and so am I), as Z describes the type of accommodations in which we are interested.

Now this is where the “choose your own adventure” twist comes in to play. We are told either

1) 1) I have a place or two for you to look at right away.

2) 2) After much more discussion, exchange of phone numbers, xie xie’s (look that one up, Ma) and more pleasantries, we are told “tomorrow, tomorrow” we can see a place. I quickly learn to recognize the word for tomorrow: ming tian. I come to hate this word.

Then we see one apartment after another. My walking shoes loose their bounce. I dehydrate because I don’t drink enough water. The day turns to doubts.

I loose track of days and hours and neighborhoods. We get to these places by foot, taxi, motorbike or by subway. We speak with at least seven different agents across the city. We wait for a phone call or a text or another phone call from agents. We see two-bedroom places, one-bedroom places, and we accidentally see a studio apartment with no furniture. We increase our limit on the rent because we are shocked into seeing what the low end of our budget will get us. It involves a not so well kept squatting toilet (see, I told you this would come up again).

I try to keep track of everything in English, and I try to read body language and facial expressions. Z negotiates in Mandarin with agents and then interprets to me in English. At one point he finishes speaking with an agent and then turns to me, continues in Mandarin, not realizing in that moment that I can’t understand anything he is saying, except for the word “we.” The days run 12 or 14 hours just looking at apartments, eating and sleeping. I am not exaggerating. The only break we take is to register Z with his university, and that takes more than five hours. It becomes noon, then 3 PM, then 7 PM, then 9 PM and we are still standing in another section of another neighborhood where we might envision our lives in the next year. I think we’ve skipped lunch, or maybe that was breakfast. I’m too tired to chew, so dinner is out of the question.

The idea of browsing may be a foreign concept to many Chinese. But I am the ultimate browser. I stalk the Anthropologie website for weeks. I watch for sales like it’s a part time job. I “Google” everything and every one (creepy, maybe, but I am more informed for it; and don’t pretend you don’t do the same). I like to know my options inside and out. I looked at so many apartments online before we left for Beijing, and it did not prepare me for the real thing. The pictures advertised on listings hardly ever show the actual space. While I am not new to the apartment hunting process altogether, choosing an apartment in Beijing has been a unique and arduous experience. Everything is compounded by the fact that this will be our first new place together as newlyweds. One of the agents taught us how to say newlyweds in Mandarin, but now I forget.

All but one of the agents has been very patient with us. We wonder what they think of us, and why we didn’t choose the first or second or even third place each has shown us. Picky, picky Americans.

But now, after many hours and many searches, we have found a place to call home. It is wonderful. I cried when we signed the lease out of pure fatigue and the joy of having the process come to an end, almost. On Tuesday we can move into our one bedroom apartment, on the 17^th floor overlooking the Chaoyang area. On a particularly clear day, in the far distance, we can see the hills around Beijing. There is a grocery store about a 15 minute walk from door to door. The building is in an area with more expats than Z would have liked, or is used to, but overall we are happy with the location. For a special treat, there is even a French bistro around the corner that serves specialty plates of cheese for lunch! Fromage! I knew I’d find it soon enough. There is also a swanky bowling alley across the street, with overpriced drinks and a hipster-like atmosphere. The area is probably too cool for me, but I’ll find my way.

Now we are off to enjoy our first full Sunday in Beijing, and we will worry about how to pay for our electricity and hot water and all that domestic stuff later. The sun is shining today, and I won’t be wearing my walking shoes!