Top 5 “so I live here now” moments

Recently I’ve been exchanging emails with a new friend from the States who’s getting ready to hop the pond to come live in Germany. Chatting with her has got me reflecting on all of the prep work that goes into such a big move and on the adjustment process that starts when the plane touches down.

While I have to say that I’ve not really experienced a huge cultural shock (having moved from one globalized western country to another), there are a few differences…some for better, some that make me want to do this:

1. Check your voltage before you buy it or move it overseas. Sounds obvious enough, but when Thomas and I were inventorying our electronic treasures, we were operating under the false assumption that high-ticket items would be flexible enough for U.S. or German voltage. Wrong. The $14 hairdryer proved smarter than the $500 vacuum.  

2. So where do I hang my clothes? Germans are known for their efficiency – a stereotype that doesn’t seem to extend to interior architectural design. In the U.S. you’d be hard-pressed to find an apartment without built-in closets. But in Germany, it’s typically BYOK – bring your own Kleiderschrank (the German word for a wardrobe or otherwise external closet).

Then again, there is some benefit to buying your own – you can add all sorts of cool organizational features like IKEA’s PAX system. No, I don’t get paid for that reference. But, yes, I use PAX and love it!  

Part of my IKEA closet with PAX organizers

3. Need a light…or 10? And while we’re on the where’s the…?? topic, if you’re renting (or buying) a German apartment for the first time, you might want to stock up on some of these:

Lovely, isn't it?

Otherwise, you’ll probably find yourself sitting in the dark, trying to play [insert the latest boring solo game of your choice here] for awhile…which could lead to rumors that you’re in some vampire movie-inspired cult or just woefully unprepared. Or maybe both.

Why the lack of innate lighting? Germans tend to see lighting as a form of creative expression. In the U.S. most apartments come with standard, bottom of the line ceiling lamps that you only notice when a bulb burns out. Germans, on the other hand, prefer selecting their own deckenleuchten to compliment their décor. Here are a few examples of just how creative they can get.

Overall, not a bad idea, but a bit inconvenient if you’re shy a few dangling light bulbs in the first few weeks. But then again, it makes sitting in a lit room feel luxurious. 

4. Buying groceries. Boring sub-head, I know. But it’s better than my first idea: “buying items of food to feed your face.” Yeah, let’s just get on with it.

Remember to bring your own bags, cash and a translator/pocket dictionary (if you’re not already super-fluent in German). Not for communicating with the cashier, but to translate ingredients on packages. Otherwise, your coconut curry might end up being seasoned with minced horseradish instead of minced ginger.

While many larger grocery store accept EC cards (similar to debit cards in the U.S), carrying cash can help prevent awkward moments at the check-out…not that I would know anything about that, of course.

Bringing your own bags to the grocery store is a trend that’s starting to catch on in many U.S. cities. But in Germany, if you don’t bring your own, be prepared to fork over a few Euros for plastic ones at the check-out. But why not help Mother Earth – and your pocketbook out a little and bring your own reusable ones. Here’s a link to one of my favorite brands (which you can easily clip to your purse).

5. The quiet game. No, it’s not like the movie the Crying Game. Wow, where did that reference come from? Yikes. Sorry about that...

It’s more like back in elementary school where I had a potentially hung-over teacher say she’d reward the quietest student with a piece of candy at the end of class. Only with German Ruhezeit (literally “quiet time”) no one will give you candy for your adherence. Unfortunately.

I’ve blogged about Ruhezeit once or twice before, but it’s a pretty important rule that’s worth mentioning again. During this time, you’re not allowed to make noises that would disturb your neighbors. The quiet hours vary depending on the apartment building, but it’s generally every evening/night through early morning. It also applies to Sundays (all day) and to lunch time (daily).

Ruhezeit is actually a nice concept for people who don’t want every evening of their lives filled with incessant hammering, drilling or loud music. But it can be a little challenging to work around when you’ve just moved in and need to drill into the ceiling to install those 10 lamps as mentioned above.

Of course, I’ve only been here for two months, so this is in no way an exhaustive list. It’s just what I’ve experienced so far. What differences have you found between your home country and where you live now?

Hello neighbor, could we borrow a cup of … crowbar?

Every few days we’ve received deliveries of furniture, dishware and electronics from local and online stores – replacements for things we chose not to ship. Amazingly, each item has made daily life so much easier. Who would have thought crisping bread in a toaster would ever feel luxurious?

And last week, we got word from the company delivering our household goods from the states that they’d be here on Friday. Great, we’d climb a major rung of domesticate living ladder, we thought.

But as the saying goes, anything worth having is worth the work (or something like that). We had assumed we’d ordered a full service delivery to our apartment. But here’s what we got:

Enter the wooden crates...yes WOODEN CRATES.

At 5:30 p.m. - just after dark - the crates arrived. And here I thought only vampire coffins and cursed museum relics came in wooden crates.

The crates were about 2,5 meters (over 8 feet) tall...and a gazillion pounds

The “movers” turned out to be a freight shipping company. So after they helped Thomas wheel them to our apartment entrance way, they left us with the sealed, metal-band-reinforced crates. And to adding to our stress level was the German concept of Ruhezeit (where you shouldn’t make noise after during certain hours, like after 8 p.m.). Yeah…busting splitting timber and carting boxes and furniture up several stories won’t make noise.

Crate 1 of 2.

So, we stood there for a few minutes looking up at the rectangular monsters blocking half the sidewalk. At least it wasn’t snowing.

Then it started snowing.

I knew our neighbors across the hall had been doing a lot of interior construction, so what better time to introduce yourself than when you need something…especially something as common as a crowbar…or better yet, a chainsaw. Unfortunately, they had neither. They also probably think we’re insane now. Super.

But somewhere along the way, we must have earned some moving karma points. Another neighbor (the husband of Thomas’ co-worker who also lives in our building) had a small, manual handsaw and – more importantly – a willingness to help.

For the next two hours, Thomas tore the crates open, board-by-board. Then the three of us hurried all of the long-awaited contents out of the snow and into the building.

One down...one to go

We finished around 8:30 (slightly breaking the sacred Ruhezeit, but too tired to care).

The next day...

Even though our belongings were safely inside, we still had to deal with the empty and now unstable crates looming outside. Unlike in the U.S. where we usually just pay someone to cart of large amounts of waste, in Munich, you’re on your own…unless you give at least a week notice. And don't even think about taking wood to the regular trash. There's a special handling facilty for that, of course.

The morning after

So while I spent most of Saturday unpacking boxes inside, Thomas spend about seven hours tearing down the crates and stashing the wood in our underground parking spot. It's a good thing we don’t have a car. But maybe now we can build one…out of wood. Oh wait, I just remembered, we hate wood now.

Swallowing cats to catch flies

You know that nursery rhythm where the old lady swallows a fly, and then swallows a cat to catch the fly, then a dog to catch the cat, etc.?Well,  I’m starting to feel a little like that old lady.

A couple of days ago, Thomas and I discovered a nice public library. But in order for me to get a card, I need to provide proof of address (in addition to paying €18 and showing my U.S. passport). But I can’t provide this proof of address until I register with the Munich (something all German citizens and residents must do when they change cities).

But, I can’t register with the city until I complete the residence card process. And before I can do that, I need to pass either a Göthe Institut A1 language exam or show proof of my university degrees. Sounds simple enough except that the next open exam isn’t for at least another week or two and proof of my studies is currently travelling though Germany – without me.

You see, we’re still waiting on our household goods to be shipped to Munich. Yeah...here’s how that’s been going:

• Exactly two months ago today, the moving company came, picked up our boxes and furniture and trucked it down to Chicago where they (hopefully) packed it all tightly into a ship container.
• About four weeks ago, we had no idea if our container was still cruising the Atlantic Ocean, sitting on a deserted island confusing the local fauna or somewhere in Germany.
• Three weeks ago, we were notified it had made it Bremen where it must clear customers. But in order to clear customs, they needed a detailed log of each box’s contents – in German.  Fortunately, we’d already done this in part for our records and the original transport company. So Thomas sat down one evening and painstakingly translated the 20 pages, itemizing everything we own in German.
• Last week we were told it finally cleared customs and that we had to pay a few hundred Euros in standard port fees. Ok, done. But since then, all’s been quiet on the northern front. I’m not sure if the container is still in Bremen or if a delivery man will pop by any minute. Guess I’d better change out of my Rocket Squirrel pajamas…just in case.

So that’s where I am. No university degrees, no residence card, no Munich registration, no library card. And the worst part? I really wanted to see if they had a copy of this book (yes, I’m judging it favorably by its cover alone):

Title Translation: Bring me the head of Nicolas.

A lot of stress, a few cocktails and a little cat pee

We’re finally in Munich! Well, actually, we have been for a couple of days but I’ve been horribly sick since the day before we flew out. I credit that in part to the intense stress mounting up to our departure…and to the numerous cocktails I had at our farewell Madison party.

I’ve only been here a short while and already there is much to write about. Today, I’ll start with the beginning – getting here.

Thomas and I drove to Chicago and stayed 1.5 days in a hotel to limit the time the cats had to be in their carriers. We made a couple of trips to the airport to drop off our luggage and then ourselves and the cats. (It’s important to note here for everyone wondering – no, all of my remaining clothes, shoes, accessories and assorted household goods did not fit into our luggage. We had to make a last minute run to the post office and begrudgingly hand over $172 to ship a box which should arrive next week).

When we got to the airport with the cats, the people in Lufthansa were awesome. They even gave Thomas and me an entire row of four seats all to ourselves since having a carry-on-cat under your seat means less legroom.

At Chicago O'Hare, kitties and luggage in tow

I also learned a few important things about flying with pets. Whether your pet is flying under the plane or under your seat, you’ll need to be prepared to remove Fluffy or Fido from the carrier for airport security:

• For under-the-plane, this was easier since we were off to the side, away from most of the foot traffic and chaos. But you’ll need to hold your pet for a good three or four minutes while the official examines the crate and bedding.

• For under-the-seat, this was a little more stressful. Quickly removing coats, sweaters, scarves, belts and shoes is challenging enough, add a stressed out feline into the mix and you’ve got quite a carry-on obstacle course! For obvious reasons, you can’t run a pet though the x-ray machine. So you’ll need to remove him, run the carrier through, and walk through the metal detector with 10 terrified claws latched into your skin, praying you don’t trip the sensor. Surprisingly, my cat was not nearly as hard to handle as I had feared. And he was more than happy to return to his carrier after it had cleared x-ray.

Once we were aboard the flight, my neighboring passengers were treated to the often loud, and not-so-musical sounds of periodic cat cries. Luckily, it only appeared to annoy one older lady who I didn’t care for anyway since she kept annoying the flight attendants with various non-cat-under-the-seat-related questions and complaints. I figured the mutual annoyances cancelled each other out.

At last we landed! As Thomas and I walked through the Munich airport, he noticed something wet had dripped onto his shoes. He thought it was from a drink. But I had a sinking feeling that said otherwise. It took a quick carrier sniff to realize it was cat pee. Poor baby couldn’t hold it. Not his fault, but now we had to find a pet supply store for shampoo pronto!

Thomas found one (without the navigation system that was supposed to be in our rental car from Sixt). We rushed to our new apartment, and before I could even take a tour, I had the bathwater started and a soaped up stinky little furbaby and his carrier. Unfortunately, I’d forgotten to take his medication out of the side pocket before submersing it in the bathwater. So now it looks like I’ll be taking on the “finding a vet in Germany” challenge on a little sooner than expected.

In the meantime, I’ve managed to dry out some of the pills (which have been reduced to white powder) on a paper plate. That, combined with the plastic syringes I use to administer the medication (without the needle) will no doubt make a great impression should our landlady open the cabinet when she drops by tomorrow…

Karma of ill repute

Stuck between a rock and a hard stressful place

As a continuation of my last post, I should say my day started off pretty well, before taking a sharp turn south to O'Crapville.

I called the Metro office first thing in the morning, and to my relief, someone had turned in my license plate and documents. An hour later, I attended a weekly meeting where nearly everyone was wearing a tie in honor of Tie-Tuesday, a totally random fad of which I am the only female advocate for at work. Sweet!

But mid-morning, I received a large helping of stress, with a few near-tears on the side. What could be so bad? Let me give you a numerical list in chronological order:

1. My friend who's giving me a ride across town for my USDA appointment tomorrow morning  (required to bring the cats to Germany) told me he might not be able to give me a ride back due to a scheduling conflict at work. No biggie I though, I can take the bus or cab worst cast. Getting there on time was, after all, the most important thing. And I really should mention that he has been absolutely awesome in constantly helping me out/putting up with me these past few weeks.
2. Twenty minutes later, the guy who bought my car last night emailed me complaining about "some noise the car was making." What noise?!? I emailed him back and explained that when I handed him the keys last night, the car was running fine. Plus, it's had two clean inspections in the past month and half. His response, "I'll look into it and let you know what the problem is." Great. I hate to sound callous, but it's really not my problem now. The car was fine; he took it over, and supposedly now it's not. Plus, I've been super nice to this guy. He got the car for a couple thousand below blue book, I put up with his continual tardiness and, because he's new to the U.S., I explained (several times) how the registration process works. Can't wait for his next email...insert eye roll here.
3. Five minutes later, my vet called. They mixed up the cats' microchip numbers on the paperwork yesterday, and they needed me to come back in to get new forms -- a big problem because I was now car-less, the vet's a 45-minute drive from my work and my I needed the papers for my USDA appointment TOMORROW morning. Fortunately, they called the USDA office and learned they could fax the corrected papers. Whew...I think. Let's see what happens when I show up tomorrow morning for the endorsement appointment.
4. Two minutes later, as I was telling a co-worker friend of events 1-3 when my phone rang. It was my credit card company. Long story short, my card number was compromised, and I had several fradulent transactions trying to post to my account. Because the credit card company had to now close the account, the representative told me they'd send me a new card "within the next week or so." But, I won't be here for another "week or so." I more or less explained my relocation to the rep, and he promised to overnight the cards to me at work. So here's to hoping they arrive tomorrow as promised. 

A short while later Thomas called me. I'd forgotten to let him know how the car sale had gone. And then he received a message about fraudulent credit card activity so he began to worry that something terrible had happened to me. Oops! After I assured him as I was still alive, I explained events 1-4. Funny thing is that before I spoke to him, I seriously felt like breaking down into a sopping pile of tears at work. But just hearing his voice again made me feel like everything would be OK...as improbable as that notion seemed just moments before.

As we neared the end of our conversation, he asked if I would call our moving company to check the status of our shipment. I decided that based on my luck today, I'd be better off calling tomorrow. At the rate I was going, calling now would probably end in the words, "What?? We're moving to Munich, not Monaco!!"

Cats, cars and carelessness

Today was an important day in our move. And it started at the unreasonable hour of 5 a.m.

My morning mission was to prepare the cats for their pre-flight vet inspection (which must happen no more than 10 days before the flight). This is just one of the many steps required to relocate a pet to Germany. I trimmed nails, applied kitty claw tips (to avoid carrier destruction) and carted each cat up and down the stairs and across town through terrible rush hour traffic. But at least the appointment was a success. My vet cleared them to fly and filled out the ream of required paper documentation on them. Next up in the feline department: the USDA endorsement appointment this Wednesday. At least that appointment is sans mes chats.

After dropping the cats off at home and assessing the copious amount of cat furring re-coating my normally red coat, I hurried off to work -- a place where time hasn’t yet told my to-do list about its rapidly approaching departure. So I worked until it was time for my next move-related task: forgoing my vehicular mobility...

I met the buyer for my car at the bank. For the most part, everything went smoothly. We exchanged money for keys and signed the necessary papers. I took my photocopies and license plate (unlike many other countries, in the U.S., the plates belong to the person who paid for them. The buyer must purchase new ones when he or she registers the vehicle) and was on my way.

I boarded the bus to my apartment slightly numb from selling my beloved car, but relieved the sale was complete. I got off the bus and walked home in the same oblivious state of mind. It wasn’t until I laid my purse down on the counter that I realized something important was missing – my license plate and copies of the documents. I frantically called the bus’ lost and found office, but it was closed. So here I am still dwelling on my blunder hours later, hoping someone will turn my stuff in. Maybe the universe will take pity on me and my hopeless forgetfulness. But I guess I'll have to wait until to tomorrow to find out...

The unhappiest place on earth

While doing my final packing and purging, I came across several old pieces of jewelry I received from ex-boyfriends. Since I'm not the overly sentimental type, I decided to try selling them at a local pawn shop. 

Maybe the pawn shop decision was inspired by my recent frustrations with would-be Craigslist buyers. Or maybe it was because I'm nearing the end of Dostoevsky's Crime and Punishment. Of course, perhaps the latter should have been more of a deterrent...

That said, I’m not even sure where to begin in describing this experience.

Let’s start with the parking lot. I felt like I’d been transported to an 80s movie where blinged up people walked around with boom boxes on their shoulders…only instead of boom boxes, it was a wide assortment of audio/visual equipment and curious "collectibles."

Then I walked in. It was like a showcase of abandoned dreams and harsh realities of mismanaged finances – guitars, wedding rings, top-of-the-line home theater equipment and sadly, much more. 

I awkwardly queued up in the sellers’ line. While waiting for my turn, I overheard arguments other sellers were having with the clerks. One man was unhappy with ascertained value of his massive silver chain collection. Another woman was mad about…well…I’m not really sure. She just keep grunting and hitting her hands against her thighs.

Finally it was my turn. While I was waiting for the clerk to value my items, I studied the very large, very colorful sign hanging above the counter stating that all transactions are reported to the police daily. Even though I was selling my own stuff, I suddenly found myself  feeling like I’d stolen a kitten from a lonely old woman. It didn’t help that the clerk inspecting my items looked like Santa Claus. I started to rethink the whole pawning thing...until he started counting out the cash.

In the end, at least I made my wallet a little heavier and my accessory drawer a little lighter.

Spatially challenged

Thomas suggested I try a “test pack” to make sure everything that’s left in the apartment -- more specifically, my closet -- fits into our luggage for the trip. No problem…I thought.

It's like Wardrobe Tetris. Too bad I'm terrible at that game.

OK, so I might have a slight problem. As you can see from the photo above, I’ve filled three suitcases and still have quite a lot to pack. And going out shopping with a friend the other night certainly didn’t help.

I could have sworn that my clothes, shoes and various remaining odds and ends would easily fit into two medium suitcases. After all, I’ve already shipped about seventy percent of my closet. But now, I’m finding that my shoes alone will fill a suitcase. Crap.

But let it be known: no skirt, scarf or stiletto shall be left behind. Even if it means I have to wear 22 layers of clothing at the airport.

What that's Mr. Immigration Officer? Sweating? Oh, no...I'm not nervous, I'm just a closet hoarder. Literally.

I don’t deliver

For the past few weeks, Thomas and I have been selling a lot of furniture, electronics and random things we don’t want to carry over to Germany. Thanks to Craigslist and Yammer, we’ve been pretty successful.

But anytime you try selling stuff to the general public, you have to expect a few eye-rolling moments. While I ignored most of these, I’ve included a couple of my favorites (typos included).

• Nearly new Dyson vacuum posted for $400

• Potential buyer: “I give 200 dollars cash today. Let me know when/where to pick up.”
• Me: “Really? Two-hundred whole dollars?? THANK YOU! I posted this item for sale more than 13 hours ago and was starting to feel that all was lost. You, kind sir – or madam – have certainly rescued me from this most uncomfortable state of resale purgatory. Please meet me at the corner of hellhath and frozenover at 7 p.m. But, because I am soooo grateful for your help, I will only accept $100, at most. I just hope that you carry money in pennies because I have penchant for large amounts of incredibly small change.

• Toaster posted for $5: 

• Potential buyer: “I’m really interested in ur toaster but need it delivered to the address below. Thanks.”
• Me: “Of course! I would be more than happy to drive across town to present you with this toaster. I do hope you will find it to your liking. It does an amazing job toasting gluten-based items. As with any large purchase, I’m sure you would like to try it out first. Therefore, I shall bring a hand baked, pre-sliced loaf of bread for you to sample. Of course, there will be a nominal delivery change of $52.73 (exact change only). Please let me know at what time I should arrive and I will make haste.

Apartment camping

dining table / computer desk / extra moving box

It's day three of apartment camping. Our 1,000 sq. foot apartment is currently "furnished" with:

• a half-inflated air mattress (which I doubt will last long knowing my cats) 
• an empty moving box for a table 
• two cat litter boxes for chairs
• and a few throw pillows

Classy, I know.

I don't even have a real computer anymore. Just a 7-inch tablet PC with a bi-polar keyboard and mouse.

It's sort of like real camping...but without delicious BBQs, toasted marshmallows and inviting campfires. Well, I could try the campfire, but I doubt the smoke alarm would appreciate that. Plus, I'm pretty sure there's a "no open flames" clause in our rental lease.

We even have some of the "wonders" of nature right here in our empty, temperature-controlled abode. I caught a few spiders and other creepy-crawlies before we moved out our stuff, but now they've returned with reinforcements...and their extended families. Awesome.

That old phrase "there's no place like home" just lost a bit of its charm...