Flat #2

I have never made an effort to disguise my dislike of moving. I strongly believe that moving from one house to another is the ultimate chore. No matter how much I prepare with bins, labels, helping hands, and Good Will's number on hand it always comes down to a scramble to the finish. The move always takes much more time and help than you think because you always have so much more than you thought. Downsizing prior to our move to Hamburg was not only liberating but was also a relief; the notion that the task would make all future moving tasks feel like a breeze was enough to keep me going through the process. But alas, that all seems extraordinarily naive now that we've moved into our new apartment (in a foreign country and without a car).

Once our very long, very German leasing agreement was signed and keys were handed over (which took quite some time, as I'm sure you'll understand.) it was time for the real fun to start.

(+ Reggie's set.) There are two keys for every window in our apartment. Can you imagine if we had a two-bedroom unit?!

Holger and Henning, Reg's boss and co-worker, graciously volunteered to help us move from our third-floor temporary flat (which really means fourth floor in Europe) to our new first-floor place. "It'll be easy," said Holger, "you only have your suitcases." "Yep," I said, "and a couch and a couple of tables we bought from some friends. No problem." With a car and a van and four sets of helping hands the job sounded simple enough.

After dropping off our measely five suitcases and three boxes of stuff from the US to make room for the new furniture our friends from Chicago so kindly sold us, we geared up for the big stuff. Our friends live on the first floor (which of course is actually the second floor) just one train stop from our new place. After a quick set-back in trying to find rope to strap the box spring to the top of the minivan we were on our way. Several coffee and end tables and a bed done left only the couch to go. Mary had warned me of the gargantuan size and inexplicable weight of the couch. When I had initially come to check it out I only saw three of the four pieces (yes, four) because that is all that would fit in their (very large) living room. Because all was going well and only the couch remained we released Henning to go enjoy his Friday night properly and Holger and Reggie started with the couch.  

The labor involved in moving this couch (which would  not fit in the elevator, of course) cannot properly be described in words. I opted to avoid making matters worse and did not take pictures. This couch is a huge, red monster that may as well be cemented to our floor because it should never be moved again in order to respect the massive effort that Holger and Reggie put into moving it. Holger and Reggie finally quit after attempting to lift the last piece, the notorious sleeper section, which abruptly fell out onto the floor and left a mark that no one can ignore. Holger was first to respond: "It'll have to wait."

Reggie and I have bought and made several meals for Holger since then. In my book, we still owe him at least a bajillion more.

 

Pieces 1, 2, and 3 of 4 of the Rotes Tier (red beast)
Holger would say she's not as nice as she looks.



As happy as we were to have Day 1 done, Reg and I both knew that Day 2 was quickly coming and that we could never ask Holger to spend his Saturday helping us collect the other various goods we had scheduled to pick up that day. Renting a van seemed like an obvious choice. Once we finally located one (and a sales rep. we could communicate with) we took a 45-minute train then bus ride to the opposite side of town to collect our conversion van. Lucky for us a staff member was nice enough to come and get us from the bus stop because we didn't have a clue where to go once we got off the bus. After signing our lives away and paying the fee we got to see our van. For me, driving a big van is like riding a bike being that I learned to drive in my dad's 1987 Chevy van. I was pretty darn excited. Reggie and I got in and just as we were having the GPS changed to English we saw it. Oh no.  Reg was the first to utter the dreaded words..."It's a manual?"

We looked at each other. Uh-oh. I could feel our day falling down around us in tiny pieces and stabbing us both as it fell. We had already pushed back two pick-up times and now we were going to have to cancel altogether. The stress was mounting. And then the employee said, "It's simple. Anyone can do it." More stress.

If you're like Reggie and I and have tried to learn to drive a stick shift multiple times to no avail you understand the anxiety that comes along with it. I immediately had flashbacks of being shouted at by my friend who had so graciously tried to teach me to drive a manual so I could stop asking her to drive me to do my college errands. "STOP! You're breaking my car! Get out! Get out!" The words were like knives. Oh, the terror. This memory came flooding back in full force and my shoulders were instantly at my ears. Reggie, the calm, willing man that he is, was willing to give it a shot after I tried for several minutes and gave up. Since the rental office was now closed, the employee offered to take us for a short lesson around the block. If we had more time I'm sure Reggie would've gotten the hang of it, but the stress of having to learn on the spot and then driving in this new way around a city we're not fully familiar with worked against us. In the end we found ourselves back on the bus cancelling our pick-ups for the day.

As much as we didn't want to talk about it Day 3 was coming and we needed a van to collect our goods. After scouring Toytown (a crucial site for English speaking folks living in Germany) I found an ad for "Man with a Van." His ratings were high, his van looked big, and I was going to make him our guy. Ernesto was easy to reach, spoke perfect English, and would be there to pick us up the next morning. Hallelujah.




The Man with a Van, our hero


Ernesto the Wonderful took us first to collect our new fridge, bedside tables, lamps, and other kitchen necessities from an ad I found on Toytown. Julia and Ben, who we've since become friends with, moved to Hamburg from Melbourne in January and February of last year and understood our pain in trying to furnish our new flat from scratch. They passed on all their kitchen doubles to Reggie and I--from a fridge to a bottle opener. They were very helpful--and Julia wasn't even the slightest bit mad when we showed up early and found her in her pajamas. (Sorry, Julia!)

After collecting our new dresser from a very loud, very muscular German, we thanked Ernesto repeatedly and wished him well. Then we looked at each other and laughed. Now what?

Reggie left for Frankfurt for work the next day and I took it upon myself to get the place in working order.  That week my goal changed from "see as much as I can in this awesome city" to "make it home before the bags break." Not that it even needs to be stated, but furnishing an apartment without a car is as hard as it sounds.

As difficult as walking multiple blocks with pots, pans, and glass and ceramic ware is, maneuvering the laundry machines was harder. First, they get you with their appearance...

Yiiiiikes! The flourescent lighting and white tile on the floor and walls add to the terror.

I have been fortunate to have never have had to use coin-operated laundry machines until now. In my college dorm we had the luxury of swiping our magic ID cards and the washers and dryers would work flawlessly. Now, more than five years worth of technology later I'm going to the bank to buy rolls of fifty cent pieces. Is it too much to ask to be able to use a card to use these machines? And where is my jet-pack and Rosie the Robot?!

The first load took three days and 7 euro, and that didn't include drying the clothes. When I finally tracked down the cleaning lady to help me I learned that you can ONLY use fifty-cent pieces and you must turn the water on before starting the washer. Who knew?

Reggie returned shortly before his birthday and I was happy to be able to surprise him with the fourth piece of the red beast already in the living room along with our new dining room table, courtesy of Ernesto. Of course, Holger was as happy to hear he didn't have to move the last piece of the couch as Reggie was.

We took a break from our new abode to celebrate the eighth anniversary of Reggie's 21st birthday in Spain and we milked every second of the time away. All that R&R was almost enough to prepare us for our next assignment: Ikea.

I could extend the length of this already-long story by pages describing in detail our initial trip to Ikea. Instead, I'll list a few key notes:

• 7 hours
• 4 carts
• Never again



See Reg waaayy up there? All those must-haves between him and the camera went home with us (via Ikea's delivery service). Even with all that seven hours seems excessive.

 

Because we bought the giant bookshelf at a discounted price we were told we'd need to disassemble it prior to having it delivered. (Whaaa?) Our protesting proved obsolete when we were both handed screwdrivers. In the end we resolved to disassembling our bookshelf in the middle of the customer service department. That was the last of the seven grueling hours.

Once the items were delivered we went to work on them. We assembled two closets but were surprised to learn that in order to attach them to the wall you need a special drill. One of Reg's co-workers was kind enough to loan us one and it looks and sounds like a small jackhammer. I refuse to go near it so no one gets confused and thinks I may be willing to use it, but Reg is brave and has taken care of the mounting for us. Good man, Reggie.

Now that we have a place to hang our hats (and coats and pants), lighting, seating, towels, cutlery, and more the feeling of being settled is coming quickly. I have located our grocery store and cleaners and we know of plenty of places to grab a bite. We are happy with our 'hood and the apartment finally feels like ours. We are working on framing our travel photography and art we've bought throughout our travels and although the place is still a bit bare we're comfortable. And really, if we're ever going to experiment with minimalism now is the time. 


Last week we hosted our first dinner and recieved a housewarming gift:



Bread, salt, and a penny so that we never suffer hunger. (The looks on our faces must have been of confusion because the explanation came very quickly.)



And this sweet thing just because its so pretty.





The work has paid off. It's ours and we're thrilled with it.