I'm fairly certain, no matter the city, the act of finding a place to live is... well... unbearably painful. It's a universal truth of sorts: You must see 800 crappy, rundown, godforsaken apartments or homes before you find THE ONE. In Japan, I saw many a hole in the wall and had little guidance in English before I settled on my tiny but cute place with a kind old lady landlord who was helped me translate the kanji on my bills. In LA, I looked at some hovels in Korea Town that were without parking ("Oh, you can pay $150 a month to park at the Ralph's a mile away.") before I found my gloriously large studio on the edge of WeHo. Sydney has proven no different. Let me tell you about a few gems I've seen.
I should also point out that rent prices in Sydney seem about comparable to NYC prices. It's that nuts. Also, rents are advertised on a per week basis. Why? Who knows. I find this particularly odd considering most companies in Australia pay monthly, not bi-weekly as in the states. Oh the great mysteries of life.
Anyway, I started my search on a couple of different sites... the equivalent of Craigslist that seemed suspect on many levels and a classier site with less options. Initially I was looking at moving in with randos. I figured that I didn't really care to furnish yet another apartment that I would eventually move out of and would have to sell every cute piece of furniture at pennies on the dollar. Also, aside from my family, I don't have a whole lot of friends in Sydney. Roomies can help in that area... or so I hear.
I picked a couple of neighborhoods to hunt through that various people had recommended. Everyone seems to have an opinion...
"Live in Glebe or Balmain... they're very cute artsy towns."
"Don't live in Balmain... the commute is long. Live in Darlinghurst or Surry Hills. You'll be close to all the nightlife"
"Don't live in the CBD (Central Business District)... you'll never leave. Live on the North Shore. It's beautiful and you'd have a short commute."
"Don't live on the North Shore. You'll be at the mercy of the ferries and public transit!"
Needless to say, this was all a bit confusing.
First apartment I checked out was in Glebe. I knew it was right near the shopping center my cousin had taken me to a few times, so that already seemed familiar. Armed with walking directions carefully written down from Google Maps (at this point, no printer and no smart phone. I know. Life's rough), I set off. Lemme just tell you something. I love working for Google and all but sometimes the walking directions for Maps are just plain AWFUL. I couldn't believe how lost I got finding this place. Thankfully there happened to be cute maps by a museum that helped me out. I got to the place a few minutes late but the building was nice enough, the unit itself was new, the girl living there and I got along really well, I'd have my own bathroom, she had a massive TV and classy furniture, and she seemed tidy. "Fantastic!," I thought. "First apartment I've looked at and I'm totally set!" Not so fast. I walked into what would be my bedroom. There was no way in hell my queen size bed and dresser would fit in that room. Big bummer. Some suggested that I sell my stuff and get smaller stuff. I didn't really see much logic then in having sent my stuff across an ocean. Let me also say that this place was $290 a week, just to give you a sense of what you get for your money.
I then went home and scoured sites and emailed people like there was no tomorrow. Sadly, I got very little response. However, one place in particular looked really cute online, was reasonably cheap ($245-265), and was in the gayborhood. Ah, yes. One visit away from having the search be over! I called up the occupant and was on my way 30 minutes later.
Wow. Ya. That's all I can say. Wow. I WISH I'd taken pictures because what I'm about to describe can really only be appreciated in real life.
So I get to this very Victorian looking place. Promising. Already looks cute from the street. The gregarious Kiwi occupant invited me and showed me around. What I noticed immediately was that this Victorian style home had clearly been gutted by someone who considered themselves an architect. Nothing of the original building remained inside. Quite sad, actually. The door to this place immediately opened into a tiny living room with a futon and a TV. "Sorry, it's a tad bit messy, my 2 roommates are moving out. Let's go upstairs."
Up one flight of industrial stairs, and the guy showed me a rather Japanese inspired bathroom - odd. "Since it's usually 2 guys and a girl here, we usually give the girl her own bathroom." Hmmm, well, that's a plus. He shows me the open room on this floor and while I THINK my furniture MIGHT fit into this room, he tells me that someone else has already claimed it.
Up another flight of industrial stairs and we're in the attic and the pricier room at $265 a week. "So you'll see you have a great view." The great view consisted of two skylights. The roof was also pitched at such an angle that there is no possible way my wonderful four post bed would fit. At this point, I'd already written the apartment off, but I let the kind man finish the tour.
Down we go, one, two, three flights of stairs into the basement. At this point you may be thinking "Hmm, does this place have a kitchen?" Ah, funny you should ask. The kitchen was in fact in the basement. But what was more amazing was what was truly the centerpiece of this flat. World's best architect built the centerpiece first and the rest of the apartment around. It was...
a teal
ceramic tiled
6 foot deep
hot tub.
Yes, a hot tub. In the middle of an apartment. "It costs us a ton of money to run it. Like $400 a month."
"Oh wow," I said.
"Ya, and the chemicals are a bit strong."
"Ya, I think I smell them."
"Ya, they have a funny way of wafting up to the other rooms. Oh, but by the way, your bathroom would be the one back there."
Um, okay. So these guys expect me to go from my room in the attic to the bathroom in the basement. Yes, that makes a ton of sense. I politely thanked the man and moved on. Sigh.
After that I saw a reasonable enough place in Surry Hills with two amiable guys. The room they had for me would fit my stuff. However, I'd have to share a bathroom. With a guy. Queenie put it well, "um, no. You've lived alone. You can't share a bathroom, let alone with a guy. It's bad. Do not do it." That place was also $275 a week. Are you understanding how little you get here now for your money? $275 a week and I don't even get my own bathroom. Sigh.
Finally, this past weekend I checked out a place on the north shore in the cute (and fairly affluent) neighborhood of Neutral Bay that belongs to my cousin's friend. I'd already heard the price of the place and thought it was out of my budget but figured I'd go along because it'd be polite.
I took a seven minute bus ride across the Harbor Bridge and found the place. As I walked in, I immediately thought "Oh riiiiight. You LOVE living alone." haha. Well, the unit is a very cute 2 bedroom, 1 bath apartment in an older apartment building. The owner had recently remodeled the bathroom and kitchen and they looked great. Also, the place is fairly furnished. I was in love. She then proceeded to drive me around the neighborhood where I noticed all kinds of cute shops and restaurants.
Once I got back to my hotel, I immediately started building out a detailed spreadsheet to figure out if I could afford this place. Well, it looked as though I could given I wouldn't be paying for a car and I also get some lovely benefits from Google that would offset some fees.
Long story short (who am I kidding, it's a bit late for that), I verbally agreed to this place this morning. Yay! Not sure exactly when I'm moving in just yet, but I will have a second bedroom - perfect for all of my eventual visitors. So come on down, south of the equator, everyone!
Whew, okay, it's after midnight. I need sleep. And FYI, I didn't reread this, so I expect typos gallooooore!
Also, my phone finally got activated today (yahoo!) and I should have a US number soon that you'll be able to call and text me on.
Nighty night! :)
