Misty Mountain Hop
Misty Mountain Hop
Each morning when I wake I feel like saying: My God! What a
glorious day!
I've felt that way since we moved to our new flat six days ago. It has been like waking from a three-year long nightmare.
On January 16, 2000, the day we moved from our 225-square-foot shoebox in Sha Tin into a larger flat in Causeway Bay, we were happy. We felt it would be more convenient, and the extra 240 square feet was needed. But that happiness evaporated. Over the course of three years, we battled multifarious insect infestations, noise and air pollution, and a thrice-repeated toilet eruption.
It's amazing how fast one can move when motivated. Bailing an ever-brimming toilet of backed-up sewage in the middle of the night will do that. But no matter how desperate we were, I was determined not to rush into another bad situation. We'd done that before and been stung for it. I vowed to be thorough and inspect each flat we viewed for signs of anything amiss.
I resolved I wouldn't accept anything less than what we wanted, no matter how long it took to find it.
The first thing to decide was location. It had to be an area with less noise, much cleaner air, and yet be convenient for transportation. We weren't about to buy a car so we could live in a village house, where the rent would be far cheaper. It made no sense to offset a lower rent with a high car payment and the associated headaches that go along with owning a piece of negative equity.
We eliminated Hong Kong Island from the outset. One afternoon of looking convinced us we wouldn't find a flat in good condition with a decent rent. The prices were indecent. Larger flats were located either in what's known as a Chinese Old Building, which was what we were living in (heading that route again would be a monumental mistake), or in a place with rents far out of our reach. Property agencies get away with charging exorbitant rents because companies often foot the bill for their expatriate employees, taking the expense as a business tax deduction. We aren't living here on a cushy expat package; we had to pay it ourselves.
Next on the list was Kowloon, which was out of the question for much the same reasons as the island. Outlying islands were impractical. That left the New Territories, but we knew we couldn't live in the far reaches; the commute would kill us.
We studied areas along the Kowloon-Canton Railway (KCR). We looked into Tai Po, as my wife often worked there and living in the area would reduce her commute time. But no matter where we looked, the poor condition of the flats turned us off. The previous tenants were complete pigs. Each place was coated in thick dust, the walls were filthy, the floors were cracked and damaged, and the kitchens and bathrooms were horrendous. How people could live that way is beyond me. Few landlords bothered to make them more presentable. When I see a flat with cockroach bait stations all over the place, that's a giant flashing-red warning sign not to rent in that building.
As we searched over the next two weeks, we kept noticing ads for flats in Ma On Shan, or Saddle Hill. At first we'd discounted the area as it seemed too far from anywhere. But the places looked so appealing, we gave it a chance.
On our first visit, we looked at some flats close to Tolo Harbour; we thought a sea view would be nice. Though the exteriors of the buildings looked great and the complexes were supposed to be less than 10 years old, we were disappointed with the state of the flats and how space was allocated. A flat advertised as 900 square feet might have only 675 square feet of usable space. The other 225 square feet included common areas such as the lobby and the lift. I wouldn't be surprised if they included the space inside the mailbox in the estimate.
During our next trip we looked at an upscale complex close to the harbour, but the rents were too high. I couldn't see how they could justify them, given the flats were in marginal shape and required renovation. The pricing system was so ridiculous that an identical flat to one we liked, but 15 floors higher up, was being offered at $2,000 more per month because the view was better. The flat had potential, but the main drawback was the bathrooms were small and cramped, in favour of larger bedrooms. We'd had a tiny bathroom when we lived in Sha Tin, and we weren't about to suffer that again. We went to view those flats three times. Each time we grew less interested and knew they weren't right for us.
We had one major factor on our side: it was a renter's market. People were desperate for tenants — good tenants — who paid the rent on time and didn't throttle the place. We knew this and were determined to use it to our advantage.
On our next visit, we looked at a site we hadn't considered as it was farther away from the Town Center than we'd wanted. In the New Territories, a Town Center is a major transportation hub with a mall built around it to provide conveniences such as grocery stores and banking services. We wanted a flat close to this hub for fast access to mass transit. We had almost written off this alternate site for concern it wouldn't serve us well.
It would have been a colossal blunder. The estate was a gem; hidden treasure, if you will.
We were impressed with the operation the moment we set foot in the place. Security was on top of the ball; people coming into the complex were screened and notes were made on who they were and where they were going. From there we walked to the central administration area, which contained the clubhouse and additional facilities such as indoor and outdoor swimming pools, snooker and pool rooms, putting green and even a 10-pin bowling alley. The place was clean, bright, well-maintained and quiet.
Best of all, it was only four years old. The acid test would be the flats. They varied in size, but the one we liked most was the second one we viewed. It was listed at 992 square feet, on a high floor, with three bedrooms and two bathrooms. We liked everything about it. It was clean and in good condition. The view out the master bedroom window was of a lush, green mountain, misted over at the top by wispy, low-level clouds. I called them the Misty Mountains.
I couldn't help but notice the construction of a highway behind the buildings, but even that didn't bother us. It was far below and the noise was hardly noticeable. The estate also provided free shuttle buses that ran on a regular schedule to the Town Center, the KCR at University Station and to Diamond Hill in Kowloon. By the end of 2004, a brand-new KCR station would open in front of the complex.
The place had everything we wanted: good-sized bedrooms, a larger living room, well-built and spacious bathrooms, a functional kitchen (including a room for a maid, but who the Hell needs a maid? I saw it as a big walk-in pantry), Towngas (which meant no more small electric water heater for the shower, nor a dodgy LPG canister in the kitchen for the cookstove), and daylight. The windows let in lots of natural light, which meant no more fluorescents. Most of all, there were no signs of any kind of bug problem. No cockroaches, no ants, no spiders. No centipedes, flies, mites or geckos.
And yes, I checked the toilets, numerous times.
The asking price was more than what we had in mind, but we knew we could bring it down. We made our offer, and were surprised when the landlords said they wanted to meet us that same afternoon. They wanted to size us up, to make sure we were decent people. When we met them a short while later, we found they were a nice, middle-aged couple looking for a good tenant. We agreed on a price and the details, made the arrangements, and sealed the deal with the first month's rent in advance. They were good enough to allow us two weeks rent-free to move in and get settled, which was appreciated.
We had two weeks from that point to prepare. I went into high gear.
I'd learned hard lessons from our previous move; I wasn't about to break my back a second time.
I beat the bushes for recommendations of a good moving company. I did the usual pre-move errands, including mail redirection, and set about planning each step of the move. Once I found a mover that looked competent, I had a representative come around to provide an estimate. They would provide the materials we'd need and drop them off a week prior to the big day.
Once again, we were to move on the 16th. I hadn't planned it that way, but it seemed auspicious. Yin meeting Yang, and all that. A line from Misty Mountain Hop by Led Zeppelin kept running through my mind:
So I decided what I'm gonna do now
So I'm packing my bags for the Misty Mountains...
We packed our bags to make that hop. During the week I did light packing of items I knew I wouldn't need, but it was tricky. Each box I packed ate up what precious little floor space there was. I became inventive on ways to shuffle things about so that we could walk from room to room without tripping and breaking our necks. I wanted to move, but not into the ICU or a coffin, thank you very much.
On Friday the 14th, I went into overdrive, packing what I needed and making numerous trips to the hallway to discard all extraneous detritus. In other words, I junked the junk. I wasn't about to fill up our new place with accumulated crap we didn't need. We made two runs to the Salvation Army to donate old clothes that were in good condition. On Saturday the 15th, we went to Ma On Shan in the morning to complete our paperwork with the landlords. Then we went to the flat to clean it for the move. Back in Causeway Bay later that afternoon, we continued the mad shuffle, piling boxes higher and higher.
The end was in sight. We had one night left in the dank little dungeon. The next morning, at 0900, the movers would come and we would leave the Hell-hole behind.
The next morning we woke at 0800 to complete our packing before the movers arrived. When they did, it took only two hours for them to remove all boxes and containers, disassemble four key pieces of furniture and haul out the appliances. Unlike most tenants, I made sure the rooms were swept and clear of garbage before we turned the keys over to the landlord. He was a kind man, and despite our troubles, I bore him no ill will. I took one last quick look around the flat, marvelling at how I'd crammed three adults and their belongings into it. I felt not at all melancholy, nor sentimental.
I turned and left with nary a backward glance.
We were free.
Each step I took away from the flat, the building, the street and the district brought a palpable sensation of relief. The invisible white elephant that had been riding on my shoulders vapourised. I took a deep breath and felt a release of the frustrations and the despair that had settled on me like the chains that bound the ghost of Jacob Marley. My spirit was exhausted and I hadn't even realised it.
By 1500 that afternoon, the movers had reassembled our furniture and placed the appliances. All boxes were in our new home. They left us to get on with the business of unpacking. I had a big job ahead of me, but I was knackered. Nonetheless, I set about to getting our lives back in order. I may have been wiped out, but the knowledge that we had bettered our circumstances gave me the energy to go on.
It took the better part of four days to get things organised and put away, but it took shape. There is a wee bit left to do, but soon we'll be settled. We now concentrate on living instead of surviving; enjoying life instead of dreading the next disaster.
That's why I feel so grateful each time I look out the window, do the laundry, take a shower or even go downstairs to check the mail.
Led Zeppelin summed it up:
So I'm packing my bags for the Misty Mountains
Where the spirits go now
Over the hills where the spirits fly...
Our spirits are flying.
Each morning when I awake, I look out the window, see the Misty Mountains and hop out of bed.
It's glorious.
March 21, 2003
Next Tale - Navel-Gazing