What floor am I on?

I'm back. I'm back in China. I'm back in the Blogosphere. After a rough year last year, I'm back in a lot of ways. And I am glad to be back.
So my new job takes me all the way to Shenzhen - which in the pantheon of Chinese cities is the least known of the so-called first tier cities (Beijing, Shanghai and Guangzhou being the other members of this exclusive socioeconomic club) It borders Hong Kong - and boasts the high GDP per capita of any Chinese city. And its clean. By China standards.

Last week I had to go apartment hunting after arriving in Shenzhen exhausted, excited but mostly jet-lagged. My Chinese had gotten rusty, but as I entered the real estate agents office and began explaining I was looking for an apartment to rent, I realized that most of what I had learned was still there. Sort of.

As we headed out I told the agent that I wanted to live in a Chinese community. In my previous stint in China, I lived within a housing compound that felt, looked and even smelled like America. This time, I told the agent, I was ready for the real deal. He smiled and said he knew the perfect place.

Upon arrival I was already excited, as the street the apartments were located was bustling with activity. Fish swimming in buckets at a wet market. Old men, shirtless, their bronze skin a reminder of years of toil, happily sitting around playing Mahjong regaling each other with stories. Little kids, their butts sticking out of their Chinese style kid pants, running around screaming in their nascent Chinese.

As I stared at the scene, it all felt so foreign, yet familiar. Comfort can be found in the strangest places, and standing on this street with China all around me, I felt comfort.

Before we went into the apartment complex, the agent turns to me with a serious glint in his eye.

Agent: "I want you to know something about the apartment."
Me: "OK"
Agent: "We have had trouble finding renters for this place, I just want you to know."
Me: "What's wrong with it?"
Agent: "Nothing is wrong with the apartment. Its in good shape."
Me: "What's wrong then?"
Agent: (looking sheepish): "Its on the 4th floor."
Me: "Oh....well, I'm American. I know the number 4 is extremely unlucky in China(it is pronounced the same as the word for death) but I don't think the bad luck will apply to me. As long as its not on the 13th floor, I should be OK."
(Agent and I exchange a look and share a nervous laugh.....)

(BTW: In a Chinese horror movie, this would have been the opening scene, followed by an hour and a half of my apartment and its trappings tormented and eventually ending me. )

I ended up taking it, and everything so far has been good. So far.