Property Tales
"The good thing about New York is there're lots of available places to choose from. In Amsterdam, you're lucky to find anything. There, I was doing a sublease where I had a purple bathroom, a lilac kitchen, a blue bedroom. It was an old building in bad condition in a dangerous neighborhood. I could hear everything my neighbors were doing. I mean everything. My apartment here is nice and quiet. It's expensive, though. I spend a larger percent of my income on housing.
tourism marketing representative
IN JANUARY 2004, on the eve of his thirtieth birthday, Charel van Dam moved from Amsterdam to New York to begin a new job.
"The timing was perfect. I'm young, single-and the most valuable thing I owned in Amsterdam was a $400 Volkswagen," says Charel. "I decided practically overnight to move."
His new employer, Netherlands Tourism Board, where he's marketing maven for the "cool capital" of Amsterdam, arranged a month's lodging for Charel at Kolping House on 88th St. between Lexington and Third Aves.
"I'd stayed there for two weeks in December, while visiting New York to prepare for my job. Kolping House provides cheap lodging for foreign men-mostly Germans. My room was six by nine feet, with a window facing a blank wall. I shared a bathroom with two dozen 22-year-old guys with frat-house mentalities. It cost only $700 a month, including Monday through Friday dinners-but I couldn't go back. I was turning 30, and doing that frat-house thing would kill me," says Charel.
Work colleagues suggested he try Macaw House, on 101st St.
"Esther and Sonia-landlady and daughter whose last names I don't know-call it a guest house. It's two buildings on opposite sides of 101st St., with four guest rooms and two bathrooms per floor. Everyone shares the living room and kitchen," according to Charel. "Having the kitchen was convenient, but food was stolen, even though you marked everything. I'm six-three and Dutch is a guttural language, so you'd think I'd scare the food thieves-but no, they still took my food."
Charel's top-floor walk-up, seven-by-12 room had a single bed, tv with cable and small cabinet. It had a window facing a blank wall. It cost $1200 per month, was well-kept, tidy and cleaned daily.
"The residents were a bit freaky-a mixture of Europeans and Americans who came and went. In the month I lived there, I saw more policemen than I'd seen in my whole life in Holland. There was always something happening. For example, one guy had been using a former resident's credit card to donate money to charities-so he'd get invited to fancy parties," says Charel. "I'm glad it was so weird, though, because it motivated me to find my own apartment quickly-just to get out of there."
But as van Dam notes, several obstacles face recent arrivals when it comes to finding dependable housing.
"It takes about eight weeks for you to get a social security number, without which you can't have a bank account or a credit card. You've got money from cash advances, but renters want your credit history. Luckily, I discovered American Express would transfer my credit history from Holland."
Working with brokers, Charel saw 30 apartments in three weeks. He wouldn't settle for a small room with one window facing a blank wall. He worked hard, was diligent. Eventually, a web listing led him to his nice, $1600-per-month top-floor one-bedroom on E. 81st St.
"I wanted the West Village, but it's too expensive. Brokers were pushing me into apartments I didn't like-just to get their commissions. For me, with housing, if it feels right, that's the place. I walked into this apartment and I knew immediately it was right. Sixteen hundred dollars is expensive, but it's worth it. I like having my own place. If I want to run naked from the bedroom to the kitchen, I can do it without shocking anyone."