Lament Of The Hong Kong House-Hunter*

When your apartment is 400-odd square feet, you let the outside in once you open the windows, since there’s not much of “in” to be held up against.

Which leaves Hong Kong dwellers with 2 options:

• Live someplace where you love the outside of
• Never open the windows (the more common option)

I chose No.1, which when combined with other requirements such as a 5-ft bed (a Malaysian not Hong Kong standard I’m told), the need to live on the Island due to lack of written Chinese literacy, white walls and kitchen/toilet which live up to “expat-ations”, and the aversion to paying Damansara Height rental prices, left me with few options.

4 options to be exact. Out of the 1.4 mil private residential units** in Hong Kong. Okay I exaggerate. I only looked at 45, not 1.4 mil apartments and that was when I first arrived in 2011, none the wiser about neighbourhoods and the true definition of racecourse views (a crack as broad as your index finger) and what 300 sq ft really means (standing up from your toilet sitting position to wash hands at the basin).

Armed with the superiority of this knowledge, I set forth courageously two years later in search of a possible alternative, after being somewhat unceremoniously 20% upped on rental by my landlady (on whatsapp, in 8 words). This time I said, it will be better. I will be better.

This time, I found 3. I only looked at 15, so arguably it was an improvement percentage-hit wise. But it was still sufficiently depressing to trigger a bout of ihatehongkongitis for the past 6 weeks, from under which cloud I am only emerging now, with the help of excellent bars and eclectic neighbours.

The problem with the Hong Kong housing market in my opinion, can be summarised as such:

1. There are not enough apartments.***
2. The mainlanders are rich, and the government is greedy.
3. The landlords are greedy, and the range of tenants is too wide and varied (from expats to dirt poor locals, and locals to dirt poor expats), resulting in a situation of a pot for every cover, and so many pots you never thought could/would exist beyond a Malaysian understanding of what an “acceptable” apartment is.

Anyway, the happy ending of this story is that I extended my lease with an 8% increment, due to reasons I cannot explain other than my landlady changed her mind about the ever-elusive reasons behind the Hong Kong rental “market” rate, which to me is a moot point anyway (see point 1 above).

Or it could be she found my long sulking (5 weeks) then sob story of poor developing country person sufficiently entertaining, or simply tired of the bargaining game she was playing (my local colleagues tell me this).

Either way I am glad, because I love my apartment and neighbourhood. It’s one of those places that makes you happy to stay in or step out the door, from the antique shops you feel you need to approach with respect, to cloud-watching from the couch, and the fruit sellers (from really kind to real rip-offs) who initially do not look different at all. I love its alleys and corners, old businesses and new ventures, juxtaposed in a way that highlights Hong Kong’s heartbreaking transience just so.

It’s one of the oldest spots in this country, where you see locals and foreigners alike adapt, settle and try to thrive in a new landscape. And die too, as it is near a row of coffin shops. Its distinction I make from funeral homes, because that would be scary. In short, somewhere I could call a home away from home.

Am I a Hong Konger now? No. I will always be Malaysian, hopefully with a little more game and a little more worldliness with a little help from my friends. Will I renegotiate the rental down the next time the market dips?

You bet-lah.

* also posted on www.curasian.com
** http://www.gov.hk/en/about/abouthk/factsheets/docs/housing.pdf
*** http://www.cbre.eu/portal/pls/portal/res_rep.show_report?report_id=2305