There is a funny post over at Danwei (thanks to TPD for the link) on the perils of apartment hunting in the capital city that made me nostalgic for my past real estate exploits and a bit nervous of future ones. The last time I went apartment shopping in Beijing was in the summer of SARS. That June, with many foreigners back in their home countries and landlords a bit desperate, I managed to score a nice new apartment in a very old Hutong. It was in a funky old alley between the Drum Tower and Hou Hai, where, according to my neighbors, Kang Sheng had lived and done his business back in the bad old days. The offered rent (including furniture and electronics) was so low that I felt compelled to ask the landlady if the apartment was free because the last tenant had suffered from a severe case of ‘deadness.’
“No,” she said slowly.
I loved the place and I figured that if SARS was going to get me it would have done so by now. I accepted her answer and moved in the next day. Over time, I learned that I was the only foreigner in the