Michael, my agent, collected me from the airport. As arranged. With just a stopover of 90 minutes in Beijing, my suitcase was the first one to appear on the conveyor belt when I reached Hangzhou…
I only made my connecting flight by the skin of my teeth. Wow, if I thought Heathrow was a large airport, or maybe Hong Kong, it was nothing compared with the scale of Beijing. To transfer from the arrivals hall to the departure area within the same terminal, I was herded onto a train, which took an agonising fifteen minutes to reach its destination. This was definitely not the bullet train variety travelling between Chinese cities… Of course, I needed to clear immigration and still run the gauntlet of another security check before boarding the flight to Hangzhou…
I headed for ‘Departures’ on the third floor, looking for the gate number…in vain. In desperation, I accosted a security employee at his desk next to his computer – the only living soul in view – but his job description did not include ‘helping stranded passengers finding the necessary information’. Whilst the minutes were ticking away at breakneck speed, he advised me to check the board on the floor below. Really, no board on the departures floor itself??? I rushed, I ran, I scaled the escalators… I grabbed the first person crossing my path; she simply scanned my boarding pass and hey presto, the gate number appeared. After a mad dash back to the third floor, I finally reached the gate, the last person to board.. I must make a mental note for the future: allow more time for a transfer through Beijing, even if it bumps up the price of the ticket…
As my return to China had dragged on a bit, finding a new flat was a priority. Michael had been ‘proactive’ the previous weekend and, after a brief flurry searching the web, sent me some adverts for what he considered suitable living space…. Suffice it to say that our ideas and tastes clearly clashed and I was certainly not going to spend the next twelve months holed up in a box, nor pay exorbitant prices for a lavish two-floor apartment. Was there no middle ground?
Deciding to play it safe, I dispensed with Michael’s flat-hunting services and took Amanda with me. Although Chinese, she is a sensible person with a clear understanding of Western standards of living accommodation… She is a woman after all… In the end, we agreed on a perfectly sized ground floor flat, nestled in the middle of a quaint Chinese neighbourhood, but within walking distance of life’s necessities, such as Starbucks, McDonalds, CenturyMart (a rather posh, expensive Chinese supermarket chain) and of course, the school where I would be teaching…
There was just one little snag: the flat was clearly still a work in progress: a bathroom without doors, a bed without mattress, no furniture and no heating, and definitely no kitchen… On the upside: freshly painted walls, brand new sanitary wear in good working order, a separate bedroom, a sofa bed in the living room and the generous offer of two televisions provided by the landlord.
Keen to be absolved of the cost of the hotels (paid for by the agent until suitable accommodation has been found), Michael hastily arranged a meeting with the estate agent and the landlord for the next day. He wanted to get the deal signed and sealed as soon as possible. It did not worry him that he had not seen the property, as long as I was happy, he was happy… During the two minute conversation we had, I tried to imprint on him that it may still be a few days before the flat was ready for me to move into and he may have to put me up in a hotel a little longer… ‘OK. I shall collect your suitcases from the hotel after work and bring them to the flat tonight,’ Michael reassured me. ‘When Michael??? The flat is not yet ready…’ ‘Tonight, after six!’…
Two of Michael’s answers immediately send all alarm bells ringing: ‘OK’ and ‘I see…’ Both spell disaster as he either has not grasped the message at all (OK – ‘Hmmm, I will need to figure this out later’) or he has realised he does not have a clue about what he is required to do (‘I see’ – he doesn’t see it at all…). Although he vehemently denies this, Michael is an agent ‘on the side’. His day job keeps him busy during business hours, so he only has his evenings to deal with any urgent paperwork or other issues for the teacher(s) under his wing… Needless to say, it explains a lot about all the delays with my visa and currently my residence permit.
I spent my first two nights back in a hotel in downtown Hangzhou, close to the centre, but some distance from my school. Not very convenient, as my new job requires me to be at school for 8 am. With the contract for my new flat to be signed in the evening, Michael insisted I checked out of the hotel. ‘Michael, where will I stay tonight?? Do you have another hotel booked? The flat is not ready for me to move into…Where do I leave my luggage?’ I urged him. ‘Don’t worry,’ was the the worrying reply. ‘It will be fine.. The hotel will look after your suitcases and I will pick them up tonight before we sign the contract…’ ‘And what shall I do when I finish at school..? Wander the streets in the cold??’ ‘Go and have some coffee somewhere…Isn’t that what Westerners do??’
With nowhere to go at the end of the school day, one of my new colleagues took pity on me and I stayed in her flat until finally, a few hours later, Michael turned up and we set off to meet the home owner… ‘Did you pick up my suitcases from the hotel?’ I pressed him… ‘Later,’ he shrugged off my remark. ‘Later, after we have signed the contract. And then you can move into the flat.’ ‘Michael, I cannot move into the flat!!! Did you speak to the owner about the mattress and the bathroom door?? I have nothing to cook with!! The heating does not work. All my things, such as sheets, towels, are stored in YOUR flat…’ Michael insisted that the home owner had confirmed there was a mattress on the bed and the bathroom door had been fixed… And what about sheets?? ‘No problem,’ he continued, ‘I will take you shopping and you can buy sheets and towels.’ ‘No way, Michael. I have sheets, I have towels. If I have to move into the flat today, YOU will be paying for my shopping… It may be cheaper to find me a hotel for tonight!’
I was not privy to the Chinese wheeling and dealing that ensued during the signing of the contract, but any suggestion of negotiating on the monthly rental fell on deaf ears. Being clever, I had clinched ‘free accommodation’ as part of my package as this would save me forking out three months rent, another month’s rent as deposit and the agency fees in one lump sum in advance, plus my accommodation would be paid for in the summer.. . But the flat was slightly over budget and I had agreed to pay some of my salary towards it.. so Michael did not feel HE would gain anything from achieving a rent reduction… and, as he confided afterwards, ‘Prices go up for foreigners…’ Maybe if he had not paraded me at the signing of the contract, the house owner would have been none the wiser…
By the time all the red fingerprints had been inked on the papers, it was nearing 9 o’clock and Michael was still adamant I should move into the apartment on that day. ‘Let’s at least check out whether there is a mattress and then, if you insist, YOU can buy me all the necessities such as sheets, a kettle.… Why not get me a hotel room for tonight???’ Still jet-lagged, I was so not in the mood for camping without sleeping bag or airbed…
The estate agent handed us the keys and showed us to the house…Nothing had happened since my last viewing the day before… There was no mattress, no curtains in the bedroom, nor a door for the ‘wet room’. Paint and builders’ dust covered the floors. At last seeing sense, Michael relented and reluctantly agreed we should collect my suitcases from the other side of town and look for a hotel nearer my school… It was almost 10.00 pm.
After a quick dash into town to get my luggage, Michael started searching… He had spotted a cheap establishment very close to my new apartment. ‘You stay in the car,’ he said, ‘I shall go and see if they have a room available.’ He returned, tail between his legs… ‘Ah,’ he explained, ‘they are cheap, very cheap, so they don’t allow foreigners..’ We drove to the next hotel, just around the corner in a niche spot opposite the famed GongChenQiao Bridge. ‘Far too expensive,’ Michael decided after looking at the special rates on offer online; he did not even venture inside. We set off again, and Michael tried his luck a little further afield, but there was nothing to be found within his budget nor with rooms available…
Running out of options, we returned to the posh hotel. It was past 11 pm and Michael had a day’s work at the office ahead of him and I needed to be in school by 8 am. I unloaded my suitcases and accompanied Michael to the reception desk; I was here to stay whatever the cost. The hotel had indeed rooms available, but this late at night, there was no hope of getting the discounted rate suggested by the internet. And they certainly did not have any rooms at budget prices… I have no idea how much Michael paid in the end, but he certainly turned a few shades paler on the mention of the figure. By then I was beyond caring!! I smiled and inwardly could not resist the thought, ‘Serves you right for leaving this till the last minute… You only have yourself to blame for not listening…’
My hotel room was wonderful, comfortable and luxurious… and I only had a few hours to indulge. I filled the bath to the brim and sat there enjoying the bubbles, leisurely topping up with soothing hot water… because undoubtedly, I would be moving into my new home the next day… With three months’ rent in her pocket, the landlord would have no excuse not to at least put a mattress on the bed and curtains in the bedroom…
Breathing life into the heater…
Which remote control will get the heating going?? New batteries maybe???
Lieve Round The World 