Though located in a prime downtown area near Taipei 101 (facing page), Prosperity Residences is gradually falling into disrepair, as this furred-up pipe illustrates all too well. (Chuang Kung-ju)

In the past, apartment buildings in Taiwan have often been put up by "single-project companies" that vanished even before all the units were sold--a practice that seriously undermined the quality of construction. But in recent years, a new breed of single project companies have emerged in Taiwanese cities which promise to make residential environments more livable and to remold and revitalize our cityscapes.

In several respects, these new single project companies clearly lack professional qualifications: they possess no construction expertise and have no experience in handling property transfers--a key element of the house building process. They are made up of residents (property rights owners) whose most important asset besides their property rights is a common vision for their future homes. As residential complexes fall into disrepair, the residents of those located in good areas have jumped on the "urban renewal" bandwagon. Quite apart from reductions on land tax and other levies, floor space incentives, "rights conversions" and other preferential policies, the appreciation potential of such real estate makes developers drool with envy. As a result, it may now be possible to transform the old housing market framework, in which government and real estate developers took the initiative and house buyers played a passive role, into one in which residents take the initiative in building their own homes.

In Taipei, it takes wage earners an average of nine years' income to buy their own home. Compared to the average home buyer, there is no question that people who are able to exchange their low-cost old house for a new house because of urban real-estate saturation are very fortunate. Taiwan's cities, whose residential landscapes invite so much public condemnation, are placing high hopes in them. People who build their homes with their own hands put more effort into them. They care about their home's market value, but even more about its "residential quality."

There is reason to hope. The rebirth of our cities may be on the horizon.

Everyone wants a new home: Mrs. Hsu, who hails from Qingdao in mainland China, is getting on in age, lives on the fourth floor, and cannot climb more than a few steps without panting. Mr. Tu, a native of Ningbo who lives on the second floor, resents the fact that he and his family of three are squeezed into an apartment of less than 14 ping (one ping is 3.3 square meters or 35.3 square feet). Then there is Ms. Chen, who is always dressed to the nines and frowns whenever she sees a beat-up old motorcycle in the corridor. When she enters or leaves the building, she lowers her head in shame because in an area full of five-star hotels, foreign companies, and posh apartments, this dilapidated building is a bit of a loss of face.

Several families do their cooking in the corridor next to the courtyard. To get to the stairwell one has to pick one's way past gas stoves, dirty bowls and chopsticks, and plastic buckets filled with cooking leftovers. Looking through the stairwell windows, one can see famous landmarks in the nearby Hsinyi Project Area, including Taipei 101, the World Trade Center, Taipei City Hall, the Grand Hyatt, and several department stores and movie theaters. But compared to those bright new buildings, this circular-shaped six-story apartment block looks pretty wretched, an impression that is made even worse by row upon row of stove vents protruding into dim corridors which make the air smell of grease. Families live cheek by jowl. Along the two-meter-wide corridor, there are shoe racks (which Taiwanese people customarily place outside their front door) as well as a mind-boggling array of objects: a discarded plastic tricycle, a bicycle, an old TV set, a refrigerator, an air-conditioner, an archaic typewriter, and a chest of drawers that must have seen better days.

"It's almost 40 years old, but this building also has its strong points. It rode the 921 Earthquake without a crack," smiles Mr. Tan, who lives on the fourth floor.