The following story was posted on the Where There Be Dragons website, in the YakYak message board. If you would like to read more stories by my fellow Dragons, go to http://www.wheretherebedragons.com/yakyak.php
Earlier this week in Chinese class we were cut loose to find apartments. Our plan was to talk up the real estate agents and with luck, get them to show us a nearby apartment. We wandered around through China's alleyways for a while, looking for the real estate agency Annie Jiao had directed us to. We were sidetracked by the numerous street vendors selling various tasty snacks that littered our route. On our way back, defeated, we saw it. It was right there on the corner of the block the program house was on. We had walked right past it. The day before a man had slaughtered a chicken on that corner, draining its blood into the sewage drain. Somehow I had missed the real estate agency that formed the backdrop for this surprising act of casual death.
There were two young women sitting behind the counter when we walked in. They wore matching pantsuits and gold nametags I couldn't read. Their giggles filled up the cramped, single room. It was mostly filled with the desk they shared, their twin computers rising up and almost obscuring them completely from view.
There were three of us. Kelly, Ilana, and me. We told the two giggling agents that we were looking for an apartment. We told them we needed three bedrooms. They said something to us, and we looked at each other, lost. "Shenme? What?" I ventured. They wrote down a price. For 1800 RMB a month we could have an apartment to ourselves. Some quick math ensued, and we figured that we would each have to pay less than 100 bucks US each a month. Not too shabby. After some awkward gesturing and broken Chinese, one of the giggling agents was taking us across the street. Past the sewage drain that was probably still stained with blood. I didn't look. Now our agent was on the phone, her little pink mobile. We were walking down an alley, onto a side street, and then down another. A car pulled up, and I was terrified for a minute that we were going to be pulled in. Not that China is scary or threatening... you just never know.
Another agent, in the same matching black pantsuit now appeared. Kelly had run off to make a phone call, and I realized I had forgotten how to say that we needed to wait a minute. I gestured wildly. Three people here, one leave, one come back! I struggled through my stupid sentences in my broken Chinese, hoping that at least my gestures would get the point across. They looked more afraid than understanding, but they waited. With Kelly back we set off once again. The apartments weren't far from where we were, on the same block even. I couldn't tell the agents apart at this point, but one of them opened the door to the complex and the other one lead us up the stairs. We stopped at the fourth floor and waited as she struggled with the keys to open apartment 401. The landing was plain concrete, but the doors were still colorfully decorated from Chinese New Year. Finally there was a satisfying click and the door swung open.
I have never been apartment hunting, and I assume that anyone who has wouldn't have been taken by this shabby apartment. But I was captivated. I had the same experience when I was visiting colleges. My dad and I would end the tour, and when we got around to talking about the dorms, my dad would wonder how anyone could live in such cramped disgusting conditions, and I would say that it seemed like the most wonderful place in the world to live. So when I walked into this shabby, Chinese apartment, I was optimistic. It was covered in dust, and the old owner(s) had left up posters of scantily clad babes. There was little in the way of furniture. A bed or two, and a ratty couch in front of a little entertainment organizer. But there were three bedrooms, and giant windows in the living room, a little kitchen and a bathroom with a western toilet! For only 90 bucks a month! In that moment I forgot that I was in China with a program, that I had things to do, places to go. In my mind I was just a person looking at apartments, and this one seemed perfect. I could get a job here teaching English! I have enough money saved up to pay for rent for a long time. Right outside the door there was enough street vendors to keep me full and happy forever, for little money. And then it all snapped back. I am in a home-stay, I already have a family, and I am a student, I can't get a job. It took the wind out of me for a minute, and I looked longingly at the grungy apartment as we thanked the agent and headed out onto the landing.
We made it about three stairs before the real estate agent called us back. She had just gotten a call that she had shown us the wrong apartment. It was 402, right across the tiny hall. She opened the door for us and we walked in. Just like the last apartment, everything was covered in dust, but the difference between this place and the last was like night and day. Everything was nicer, there were no racy posters taped at jaunty angles on the doors and walls. The space was much nicer, and obviously cleaner under the layer of dust. The kitchen was bigger and had more storage and counter space. The bathroom was bigger as well and looked like it hadn't been the territory of frat boys, but rather some more polite aspect of society. The bedrooms were glorious, and the three of us claimed which would be ours. The living room was more pleasant, with nice wood floors. One wall of the living room was all windows that could be covered up by a thick or thin curtain, depending on how much light you wanted. Just outside the windows a little metal grate held up a small assortment of little plants like aloe and a cactus. And it was still 90 dollars a month.
As we left the apartment at last (we were going to be late back to the program house), the three of us were abuzz with excitement. We could come back after college, somebody said. We could get both apartments and have all of us live here! The whole way back to the program house we talked about plans for the future. Plans that included China. We passed the sewage grate where the chicken had been slaughtered, but I didn't notice.
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