Moving house is always a stressful time. Moving house in a foreign country however can lead you to the brink of insanity, heightening your levels of anxiety, and leaving you with a sense of utter helplessness. Add a baby, a disgruntled landlord, and incompetent agents, and you’ve got yourself a whirlwind of taxing unease.

A constant worry for expats living in Beijing is renting a home, particularly for families trying to negotiate their way through the concrete jungle of real estate. What is the best location? Where can you get value for money? Are there adequate amenities in the vicinity of your apartment or house? What about your landlord’s disposition with foreigners? Who will communicate with you? Will it be possible to communicate directly at all? These and more carry you into an abyss of uncertainty about whether or not you are making the right choices.

When approaching the beautifully laid-out compound of Upper East Side, Lido, I was seven months pregnant and ready to nest. I instantly fell in love with the neighborhood and was even more set on occupying a spacious two-bedroom, with access to a roof terrace, when I waddled into the real estate agency’s office and spoke to English-speaking staff who offered a parched pregnant lady an ice cold paper cup of water.

Both looks and words can be deceiving. The can-do attitude and candid approach of the agent, the sturdy and somewhat staunch proprietor, led me to believe that all was above board. How could anything go wrong? They specialize in “rental and sales of high-end apartments and villas in Lido,” and on their website provide you with glossy assurances, “We aim to win your trust with sincerity and get your recognition with great efforts. We will always be here, ready to serve you.” Surely they would only have the very best properties and even better landlords on their books. I was wrong.

After meeting the landlord, there were signs that not all was well. He seemed disappointed upon arrival when we all turned up for the handover of the apartment, and both my husband and I felt that for one reason or another we weren’t quite what he was expecting. Broken agreements, faulty items in the home, repaired and replaced large purchases, and a tiring back-and-forth WeChat conversation over the course of the first month all ensued, and was the start of disastrous things to come.

The apartment hadn’t been serviced in a while and my husband and I found items dating back to as early as 2008. We agreed to replace the sofa and the fridge, re-grout all the tiles in the home, and replace the pipes under the sink on the condition that those items from the moment of purchase belonged to our family. Inventory amended, agreement made, and we all thought we could now breathe.

Fast-forward one year later. My husband is at work and I’m packing up my home with my 9-month-old baby in tow. The large purchases we’ve made have been successfully sold, and although we decided to leave a year earlier than planned, we gave the required notice, forfeited our deposit, and informed the agency. This was somewhat a challenge as just eight weeks into our signed contract the real estate agent had blocked us on WeChat and refused to deal with the most basic of requirements; which doesn’t really mirror the promises made on their website to “serve” clients with their “expertise” and “sincerity.” Further down the rabbit hole we went.

The landlord refused to grant us a permit to clear our things from the compound, stating that the sofa that had now been sold was his. Our personal intermediary agent and my husband and I explained that this was not legal and we had every right to remove our belongings.

A moving company came, and while bringing down our things, freighting Gestapo-style antics began. With my baby in my arms and my ayi by my side, up to six security men surrounded us, one tried to physically stop me from accessing the gate to leave the compound and the belligerent proprietor from the agency turned up to film the struggle. The offense team of intimidators spoke no English, and what followed was one of the most stressful moments I’ve ever encountered while living in China.

We spent seven hours trying to negotiate our way off the sidewalk. I called the police, who left without helping to resolve the matter, and no one took a statement from me. All our things were packed in the back of a van, my baby’s diaper and clothing had to be changed, and the bottle we had prepared for his trip to our new home was already demolished.The landlord on top of our deposit wanted to extort another RMB 5,000 from us. He got his goons to surround the truck and refused to let us leave. Although having a further two weeks to move out and arrange an official handover, the boss stood by, creating a scene and refusing to acknowledge that what was developing was utterly atrocious.

Our landlord was able to rally a team of bullies made up of members of compound staff I had developed friendships with to literally spy on us and circumvent our attempts to do what we had every right to do. In the end, the needs of our child took precedence, and after much debate, we handed over RMB 1,000 and went on our way. In the end it wasn’t about money but about face. The landlord and his partner-in-crime, were not going to leave without some kind of signifier that they had come out of this situation on top.

This kind of experience raises grave concerns about the reality of the world of tenancy agreements, contracts, and policing of expats in Beijing. The rights of expat tenants is a real area of concern, marginally regulated, with little or no security attached to the signing of any arrangement or settlement. After sharing this experience with friends, I’ve been made aware that this same agency has been the common denominator in other instances of breaches of contract and poorly handled grievances.

If there are telltale signs at the beginning that you’re dealing with charlatans when renting a property, go with your instincts and move on. Understand that when contracts go wrong, little will swing in your favor, so limit the kind of arrangements you make to replace furniture and other items, and refrain from agreeing to the amendment of a contract that already will likely favor the landlord should things go wrong. Also, be wary of real estate agents who market themselves as foreign-friendly; they may not be able to back up their talk with a walk.

Photos: Pixabay

The smoking ban started in China on 1st of May, which prohibits smoking in public indoor areas. Owners of bars and restaurants would be required to have visible “no-smoking” signs. However, 6 months after this regulation, it seems to have a long way to go.

“A survey conducted by an environmental group finds that a government ban on smoking in indoor public venues has been completely ignored by half of Beijing’s restaurants, a finding that underscores the challenges of controlling tobacco in a country with 300 million smokers.”

As I lived in France for the past 10 years, I remember the smoking ban came into effect in France on February 2007 in all bars, cafes, everyone all respected the next day. How come it doesn’t work in China?

I remember that I have a friend who came to Beijing to visit me the next Sunday after May 1st. We went to a small café close to San Li Tun. As my friend is a smoker, so we asked the café owner if it would be ok for him to smoke. She said “of course”. So I told her that the smoking ban was coming out on 1st of May and she said she hadn’t been informed. I noticed that 3 Chinese men were also smoking next to our table. If nobody is aware of this regulation in this country, how this is going to work?

The 40 per cent tax on cigarettes makes them the largest single source of tax revenue in China based on Beijing Today– generating £45 billion last year – and Beijing controls the entire industry via the State Tobacco Monopoly Administration, which sets production quotas and prices. In effect, the Chinese government runs the world’s largest tobacco company.

A survey last year found that only 23 % of adults in China believe smoking causes heart attacks, lung cancer etc. As I lived in France for nearly 10 years, I know that smokers could be scolded by their doctors. Almost everyone in France knows that smoking is bad for health. However, I talked one time with a worker from An Hui province in China and he thinks that smoking is a very natural way to relax.

Smoking is also part of Chinese tradition. We often see lots of cigarettes pile up on the lunch table during Chinese wedding ceremony. The bride needs to light up the cigarette for the guest. Packs of cigarettes are also treated as gifts for friends and families. During business meeting or diner, people exchange cigarette as a way to start the communication.  

The new regulation still does not specify punishments for business owners like restaurants who break the ban nor specify penalties for smokers in public areas. In Europe like Ireland, breaking rule like this would cost RMB 3000.

So Chinese do have a long list to do to be smoke-free in public areas.

The People’s Daily reports that officials from the Beijing Municipal Health Bureau are touting a dramatic improvement in public swimming pool water quality standards over last year, when only "57.43 percent of pools in Beijing met water quality standards."

The bureau has been administering inspections on pools since June, and the report cites a Beijing Daily article that says of the 34 pools tested in Fengtai District, eight of them received an ‘A’ rating, the highest quality health and safety rating, 18 were rated as ‘B,’ six as ‘C’ and two pools were "too bad to be graded."

Unfortunately the report does not mention the number of pools in total citywide and which ones (i.e. pools in fitness centers) were inspected. Perhaps even more troubling is why the two pools that were allegedly "too bad to be graded" were allowed to operate for so long to begin with (much less how many more pools in Beijing are like this?). 

And despite the bureau’s announcement, swimmers interviewed for the piece still naturally have their reservations, provided in these "money quotes":

"The most disgusting thing about swimming pools is to find human spit floating on the water …"

"I saw people go straight into the pool after working out at the gym, without taking a shower …"

"The pool water in gyms is better than in an open-air pool … since open ones are more crowded and kids even pee in it …"

As a regular swimmer who has used a number of public and private pools in Beijing over the years, I tend to agree with the last comment and generally avoid swimming in crowded public pools for the very same reasons. Given their commercial pressures, it’s only natural to expect that pools at private health clubs are generally cleaner than their public counterparts.

But this isn’t always the case, especially when these same fitness centers get lax in their cleaning schedules (the raging case of athlete’s foot I got from one particular gym comes to mind).

These late summer months are probably the worst time as kids on vacation crowd up their parents’ fitness center pools during the day – you can always tell because the water gets so murky you can’t even see to the far end. On these occasions, one must literally weigh the benefits of a having a swim vs. the risk of exposure to lord-knows-what in the water (a situation that’s not unlike considering the pros and cons of running outdoors in Beijing). 

Given these realities, the fact that the health bureau is administering inspections on pools in Beijing is certainly laudable – let’s just hope the officials in charge stay consistent … and honest.