Unreal estate

I can't believe what a spirit-crushing ordeal it is to find an apartment to rent in Sydney.

My girlfriend and I arrived in Australia's commonly-misconceived capital last week full of the hopes and dreams of a couple of, er, hopeful, dreaming people. Within hours of beginning our quest for accommodation, we were dumbstruck at the sheer amount of mind-boggling bureaucracy one needs to negotiate in order to find a home. These tiresome proceedings were compounded by the fact that, like my former home, London, Sydney is bursting with people, all of whom selfishly need a place to put their heads at night.

The first apartment we visited featured – as a poncy real estate agent might phrase it – a cosy interior, well-loved carpet, matured walls, antique bathroom fixtures, great security and a stunning view of some local artwork.

In actual fact, we were viewing a tiny apartment featuring beaten-up carpet, yellowed walls, bathroom fixtures that seemingly pre-dated the invention of bathroom fixtures and steel bars covering all the windows, while the whole thing overlooked some prime examples of possibly the most pointless crime imaginable, graffiti. In short, it was a bit too close to a prison for my discerning tastes.

We were just a handful of nearly 30 people that turned out to inspect this dive. It took approximately 45 seconds before we made a beeline for the front door. A few others did the same, but application forms were still being handed out left, right and centre. People were literally lining up to live in the lap of dilapidation, all for the princely sum of $380 per week! Incredible.

We did end up applying for five places in various Sydney suburbs, including Glebe, Newtown, Camperdown, Rozelle and Waterloo, but the application process is baffling to say the least. I was under the misguided impression that it would be as simple as inspecting an apartment, saying that you'd take it, having them run whatever checks they need to to prove that you're not an axe-wielding maniac on the run from the law and they'd hand you the keys.

I didn't anticipate slews of paperwork interrogating you about the minutiae of your entire life – all for just the application; this isn't even the contract! After a single day's house-hunting, my hand became so overworked from filling in forms that I was beginning to doubt whether I'd be able to even turn the doorknob of the house I may or may not have successfully applied for.

And since when was a passport proof enough of your identification for a government to let you into its country but not for some smarmy real estate agent tosspot to let you apply for a six-month lease?

Nevertheless, we got the call today that we were approved for our first choice of apartment. Makes my vehement rant seem a bit unjustified, but it's my blog and I'll rant if I damn well want to.