No room on Top End’s bottom rung
DARWIN’S housing crisis has hit home recently as I’ve ramped up my house hunt. I realise I’m in a very privileged position to even be pondering a property purchase, but my search for a modest flat has left me feeling, well, flat.
It’s the great Australian dream — that moment when you finally save up enough money for a house deposit. Then you realise everything in your price range is a complete dive. Or at Palmerston.
My budget means searching for a home to buy in the Top End is more like going on a tour of retro architectural nonsense or hosting an episode of World’s Stupidest Homes.
Dark, windowless saunas and odd-shaped impractical rooms are common, as are bedrooms with so few square feet they will never live up to their names. Pantry, bedroom, same thing, right?
To use one of my favourite evocative sayings, most places in my price range aren’t big enough to swing a cat in. And I’m not talking about one of those enormous feral cats from Alice. Just an average cat. In some cases, a premature kitten wouldn’t even get a decent rotation before striking a mysteriously placed pillar.
Trying to get your foot in the door can be tricky — sometimes literally. Like the apartment I recently viewed at Nightcliff where the front door did not open the whole way due to a neighbour’s very inconveniently placed air-conditioner.
Many dwellings demand renovations so severe, demolition would probably be a far better — and much cheaper — option.
And finding a place without a pest problem (I’m talking neighbours, not white ants), is about as rare as a well-dressed grey nomad in the wet season.
Just the process of house hunting is sure way to a kill a person’s spirit.
At my end of the market it’s nothing like in the movies, where you’re greeted by white picket fences and the wafting smell of freshly baked cookies.
The scent is more likely to be the sweat of other dejected wannabe homeowners who, like you, have spent countless weekends traipsing from one property to the next, handing over contact details to sweet-talking agents who will badger you on Monday with sickening cheeriness. Rather than traipsing through airy, well-lit spaces you find yourself awkwardly sidestepping hostile tenants you may inherit, who often appear to have either just finished or just started a marathon bong/gaming session.
Some might say I’m being too picky, that you have to start small to get into the market. But if the price isn’t starting small, then why shouldmystandards?
I’m realistic — I don’t expect Downton Abbey for $400,000 — but if I’m going to be a reverse half-millionaire, I want it to be for a good cause.
THIS city has long been acknowledged as one of the most expensive in Australia in which to buy property.
In August, Darwin houses hit record high prices. The Real Estate Institute NT’s Real Estate Local Market report shows median house prices in Darwin rose 3.4 per cent in the June quarter to hit $612,000, and unit prices in Greater Darwin rose 9.2 per cent on the quarter to hit $464,000.
We get it, it’s a boom town, but not everyone is making bucketloads of cash.
While the Territory Government does have some decent incentives for firsthomebuyers, in light of these latest stats perhaps it’s time to revise them.
Land releases don’t seem to be at a fast enough pace to keep up with demand.
And regardless of the measures put in place, you still need some money behind you if you’re going to own your own home, and the current rental situation doesn’t allow much room for saving.
Even those who do manage to put a bit away and are in a position to borrow hundreds of thousands of dollars learn the situation is still bleak.
It’s utterly disheartening when you’ve saved for years and can’t even afford a hell hole up the back of Driver, or a place beside a bus shelter on Bagot Rd. The bus shelter itself is probably worth about $400K — cosy, easy access to transport, close to shops.
You can be prepared to live under the flight path, beside a busy road, next door to (or in) a brothel, out in Palmerston and even the badlands beyond — it doesn’t seem to make much difference. There is no value for money here.
As a result, the Top End is haemorrhaging young people who are forced out of the Territory to look for more affordable locations.
This should be a concern for all locals, not just those struggling to own our own abode. These rapidly departing people are your teachers and tradies, your medical workers and mechanics, your chefs and shop workers, your cleaners and cab drivers, your bartenders and baristas.
The Government should act now, before all our essential workers desert us and we’re left with no one to drive us, keep us healthy, cook us a feed, serve us booze and clean up after us.
Every function in the economy can’t be filled by a bunch of Irish backpackers who are prepared to live 10 to a room.
We love to bang on about our lifestyle up here, but it will be amazingly less attractive when all that’s left are the gas workers, defence and pollies.
Unless things change, the Territory version of the Aussie dream looks set to remain just that. Adream.
Followmeon Twitter @KylieMStevenson