As winter settles over North Dunedin and the sun starts setting before dinner, a familiar anxiety begins spreading through the student population – especially in halls. It starts with an overheard conversation. A rumour that some groups have already signed their flats. A friend mentioning a viewing over on Leith Street. Someone’s cousin apparently securing a six-bed back in May. Suddenly, a process that seemed impossibly far away becomes very real, and before long, the F-word is sitting at the tip of everyone’s tongue.
Flatting.
There are few Otago traditions more stressful than this. Somewhere between the excitement of Toga and the reality of exams approaching, first-years collectively realise next year’s accommodation isn't going to sort itself out. What follows is several months of speculation, negotiation, and low-level forms of social paranoia.
The Great Flatmate Draft
Flatting has a remarkable ability to transform your perception of those around you. Suddenly, you’re overanalysing the movements of every friend, scanning for compatibility. If you’re in your first year, this can be hard when you’ve only known each other for a few months, and about 50% of your memories together involve drinking. At the end of the day, just remember that good friends are not necessarily good people to share a power bill with.
Yesterday you saw James leave a dirty bowl in the kitchenette. Who knows? Maybe he's a lazy cunt that won’t do his dishes next year. Someone doesn’t rinse a spoon properly, or casually mentions they’re gluten free. Suddenly, every little thing becomes a red flag. Flatting turns ordinary friendships into a bizarre screening process where everyone is trying to work out who can be trusted with a cleaning roster.
Then you realise that your ‘core group’ consists of twelve people. You’ll find yourself trying to split the friend group in two – which is as easy as slicing a cake with a cricket bat. Every proposed arrangement creates casualties. If no solution can be found, you’ll be left scrambling to make two more friends so you can move into Lakehouse.
Meanwhile, you’re convinced everyone is organising flat groups without you. The “Flatting ‘27 [sparkle emoji]” group chat mysteriously goes quiet. The paranoia only gets worse as the flatting season ramps up, and you see others trawling TradeMe during lectures. While you were away for the break, somebody attended a viewing. Somebody else got onto a priority viewing list. Every new piece of information feels like evidence that you’ve somehow fallen behind. Suddenly, students who spent the first half of the year avoiding eye contact with authority figures are willingly networking with property managers in the hopes of securing a mould-covered villa with six oddly sized and shaped bedrooms.
Despite the panic, most people eventually find somewhere. North D has a way of making every cohort believe they’re the first students to ever experience a housing shortage. Yet somehow, year after year, everyone ends up under a roof.
The more important question is where.
The Flatting Zones
Looking at North D as a whole, it's difficult not to notice that certain areas have developed distinct identities. Whether those reputations are deserved is another matter entirely, but generations of students have collectively decided that different streets represent different lifestyles.
Pink Zone: Clyde Street to Harbour Terrace:
This is the real crème de la crème. These are the most packed flat viewings you’ll ever see. Close enough to Castle to have a good time, but far enough away that you can still hide away. An all ages scene, from second-years to post-grads.
Red Zone: Castle, Leith and Howe Street
Survival of the fittest. A moment of silence for the exchange students who have been placed here in UniFlats. Howe Street is under this zone because it’s typically full of all of the Castle Street rejects, asking themselves “Howe did I end up here?”
Lime Zone: Cumberland & Great King Street
Living near Fatty Lane will mean flat meals are all too easy to substitute. But it’s not all sunshine and chicken nuggets – as soon as you spot a cattle truck driving by you’ve got 15 seconds to shut your window before your room smells like sheep shit for the next half hour.
Deep Blue Zone: York Place to Royal Terrace
Welcome to the post-grad retirement village, full of dusties and crusties. Your neighbour likely owns a lawnmower and may have multiple children.Take caution hosting here. Noise complaints aren't a possibility – they're an inevitability.
Brown Zone: Butts Road
LOL! Also, cold.
Yellow Zone: Albany Street Connection Project Impact Zone
Living South of the Leith, you’ll spend your days cursing the Albany Street Connection Project (AKA roadworks galore). Good luck finding a park, but it’s certainly a convenient location.
Purple Zone: Queen, George and Duke Street
Ahhh, Castle Street for third-years. These streets are home to the upper-class version of the ragers second-years hold. Think cocktail nights that go until 3am, dinner parties where you end up with your head in the toilet, and 21st’s where the speeches go on for a little too long. You don't go out often, but when you do, you go big or you go home – usually to Queen street.
Dark Green Zone: Woodhaugh
Here, the sun is afraid of you. With such a damp microclimate, it's a place so fertile that dropping an apple core would likely spawn a tree. Your Sunday itinerary involves chopping wood, walking your dog through the Woodhaugh Gardens and enjoying a cup of tea by the fire.
Cerulean Zone: The North East Valley
In the NEV, you pay $130 a week in rent for a fireplace-heated abode while feeding your neighbour's cat leftover dinner. Your day-to-day consists of bringing in firewood that your landlord probably gave you for free, walking through the Botans, and convincing yourself you live on the sunny side of the Valley. The money you save on rent is likely spent between lunch at Beam Me Up Bagels, the pokies at Tipplers or mulled gin at Inch Bar. That walk to class through the Botans never gets old. Up the NEV!
For all the mythology surrounding North Dunedin's various factions, most students end up exactly where they need to be. The best flats are rarely defined by location, but by the people inside them. Whether you’re up in Woodhaugh, down by Greggs (RIP), or somehow living on Butts Road, you’ll spend the year creating your own version of Ōtepoti.
May the odds be ever in your favour.
