In the labyrinth of modern real estate, a peculiar trend has emerged—"apartment tourism," where dreamers tread the line between aspiration and inertia. Natalia Trebina, a seasoned realtor, paints this phenomenon with the brush of human contradiction: people who yearn for a new home but cling to the safety of inaction.
Like moths circling a flame, these would-be buyers list their own properties at sky-high prices while expecting castles for pennies elsewhere. "Their expectations are a house of mirrors," Trebina observes. "They overvalue what they own and undervalue what they desire." The result? Endless open-house pilgrimages with no destination in sight.
This isn’t mere hesitation—it’s a ritual of self-deception, where the act of browsing replaces the leap of buying. Trebina likens it to "test-driving Ferraris while refusing to sell your bicycle." The trend reflects deeper currents: a housing market caught between inflated egos and deflated wallets.
Meanwhile, beyond real estate’s theater of illusions, other headlines flicker—explosions in Vladivostok’s bays, whispers of European troops halted at Ukraine’s gates, and Russian scientists crafting oxygen sensors as precise as a poet’s metaphors. But for apartment tourists, the only explosions are those of their own unrealistic dreams.
