23/03/2024
The room rental experience in New Zealand seems to be one of those funny situations where things work out better if you don't ask too many questions; if you rent a room for under $250 in the inner city, you're a winner—don't rock the boat.
Ok—yes, I am using Auckland as the example; if you live elsewhere, stop being salty. 33% of Kiwis live here, and the rest live in Wellington, Christchurch, Hamilton or Tauranga—I’ve visited plenty of flats in all of those ‘cities’ that I would only preferably revisit with one of those fire-putting-out helicopters except the big bag that instead of water would drop na**lm.
This past week, I visited 6 different Grey Lynn and Ponsonby villas: 3 dungeons, a shack, and 2 rooms.
I see the appeal of the dungeon—a space of infinite quasi-day, one slit of light at eye level and the constant comfort of a ‘functional’ family of five pacing above—a constant reminder of something.
I see the appeal of the shack—yes, it might be a bit leaky, but “oh, isn’t it a good location.” Can't we have good houses in good locations? Guess I forgot Herne Bay. Unfortunately, my lack of a trust fund is a bit of a barrier to entry.
The rooms are a lucky find, few and far between, so my advice is, when you find one, let it go—it’s too good to be true. If it's $180pw in a brand new house, one of your flatmates is a pervert, or maybe, just maybe, you’ve struck gold, but triple-check before you sign a thing. Mark my words: if it's too good to be true, it is.
It's not underreported that our quality of housing (and car) stock is old and inadequate. Unlike the car situation, we can't blame the Japanese when old houses break, and breaking they are; I have lived in a house for 2 years; it shook and gowned with the seasons, vibrated when the dryer span, screamed when the wind came, and all that was just fine—until one day, the boiler went through the floor, I woke up as-per-usual one morning, went into to the kitchen to see my German flatmate, Jacob. He said, “You know, man, I did not sleep so gut.” “Why Jacob” I woke up with zee boiler, “well, why didn't you bloody say something!” Poor Jacob went on to lecture me about how Germany’s rigorous building standards prevent such things from happening—his poor Überlogical brain simply could not cope with the ineptitude that led to a boiler leaking for 6 months until it had rotten its way through the floor.
As Jacob asked me—how is this acceptable?—I have yet to find an answer, so I'll give you everyone else's: “We need housing too badly,” “There is not enough housing, so deal with it,” your lucky to have a roof over your head,” and perhaps the most rational, “it takes time to update a country's housing stock.”
Yes, it takes time, but are we building houses that will be different in 100 years? Should we not build houses that last 200 or 300 years? The sad fact is that my grandparents' Georgian house in Britain—built before NZ was a country- is better than any 100-year-old villa here. Even Captain Cook's house (I've been to it) stays warmer and dryer than our shacks.
