Relocated to Berlin: The Special Thanksgiving Episode

My family and I have been in Berlin now for just over four months.  In some respects, it feels like we just got here.  In other respects, it feels like we have been here forever.  But as we roll inexorably toward the holiday season, one becomes somewhat introspective. 

Despite complaints from my American friends that the Christmas decorations go up earlier and earlier every year, Berlin transformed itself into a Weinachts wonderland promptly on November 1.  After all, without the Halloween sugar hangover to recover from, and without that pesky Thanksgiving holiday getting in the way, Christmas is pretty much all Berliners have to make the fleeting hour or two of daylight between freezing rain showers tolerable.

Even though they don't celebrate Thanksgiving, or really anything like it that I have found yet, I have been able to cobble together an ersatz one here in Germany.  I can watch the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade live online, as well as every NFL game that airs before I fall asleep.  Because both today and tomorrow are school/work days, we are planning our big Thanksgiving dinner for Saturday evening so that we can have most of the day to cook our favorites (mine is stuffing, and LOTS of it!).  We haven't really made friends with any other Americans in our neighborhood yet, so we might invite some of our new German ones over for an after dinner drink.  We would invite them over for dinner itself, but we couldn't find a turkey bigger than a few pounds, and even if we could, there would be no way to fit it into our oven.  We even found some pumpkin with which to make pumpkin pie.  Considering how far we have traveled, it's remarkable how small the world has become through the marvels of the Internet and the international distribution of foodstuffs.

But since this is a very special Thanksgiving in my household, I wanted to take a few moments to reflect on what I am thankful for here in my new home in Berlin. 

1. I am thankful for my family.  If a normal guy went to his wife and said, "Hey honey, I'm bored.  I want to give up my lifelong career and secure mid-six-figure income, sell the house, sell the cars, take our daughter out of a top-ranked private school, leave our friends and family, and move to a country where we have no jobs, no friends, and can't speak the language," she would be perfectly rational and within her rights to file for divorce and have him involuntarily committed to an asylum.  My wife said, "Alright, let's do it!"  And the rest is history.  As for my daughter, she is the most loving, adaptable, and forgiving person I have ever known.  She is my inspiration, and every day she makes me want to be better.
2. I am thankful for my life up until now.  After all, let's be honest, if I hadn't been so fortunate in developing a stable and lucrative career that gave me the background, the skills, and the financial resources to move half way around the world and to be able to take up to a year or two to find work, this would all have been a wild pipe dream.  Yeah, I complained (a LOT) about how bored I was at my old career, and about how meaningless it all felt.  And yeah, it was boring and largely meaningless.  But it made this entire adventure possible.
3. I am thankful for my new friends in Berlin.  My family and I have all been blessed by the remarkable people who have gone out of their ways to welcome us to our new home.  A lot of Germans that I have spoken to both before and after we arrived here have told me how cold and unfriendly Berliners are.  We have found the exact opposite to be true.  From our first full day in this city, people have reached out to loan (or give) us furniture until our things arrived from the U.S., have offered to loan us their cars so that we can get to shops to purchase large household items, have offered to help translate important information, have offered to bring us with them on holidays, and have offered to introduce us to business contacts and organizations to help us find work.  
4. I am thankful that pretty much everything related to our relocation has gone better than expected.  From finding a buyer for our American house who was willing to let us stay for free in the house between closing and moving in exchange for all the furniture we didn't want to bring with us, to finding a spectacular apartment in a wonderful neighborhood, to finding a space in an excellent public school for my daughter, to finding excellent ice hockey teams for me and my daughter, to my wife finding the perfect job doing PR for an English language publisher.  I am not inclined to believe in fate, and I'm 50/50 on whether luck is a tangible thing, but it sure seems that we are pretty lucky that the fates aligned so perfectly to make this relocation so successful.
5. I am thankful for all of my old friends who have been supportive of this relocation from the start.  It is incredibly difficult to leave behind the relationships that have lasted for years - and sometimes decades.  But through all of the upheaval of the 10 months since my family and I finally pulled the trigger on starting this relocation, everybody has offered us unfailing encouragement and support.  In our darkest hours, when we sometimes wondered if we were making the worst decision of our lives, our friends always helped to remind us that they are always with us no matter where in the world we are.  Plus we gave them all the perfect excuse to come to Europe for vacation.

I thank you all, my dear readers, for making it this far through my little bout of self-indulgence here.  I wish you all the very happiest of Thanksgivings, and if you're in either Washington, DC or Pittsburgh around Christmas/New Year's, I hope to see you then when we come back to visit.

Relocated to Berlin: Finding Something to Do

I've mentioned this before, but my wife and I have been planning this move to Berlin for over a decade.  I got my MBA back in 2005 as part of my effort to make myself more professionally marketable in Berlin.  We sent our daughter to a German school in the United States for four years to ensure that her transition to a Berlin public school would be as seamless as possible.  But one nut that we could never quite crack while still living in the United States was finding a job in Berlin before we moved over.

This is one of those things that has always driven me absolutely nuts.  We have tons of friends who want nothing more than a quiet life in the American suburbs, when their boss calls them in one morning to tell them that they need to move to some exotic location on the other side of the world.  As I have mentioned before, we would avidly watch House Hunters International, and the "stars" more often than not had neither the desire nor the intent to live overseas, until they got a job transfer that was too good to pass up.  I see no point in jealousy, but I sure did seethe with some mysterious emotion that felt a lot like jealousy.

As for me, I have wanted to live and travel abroad for as long as I can remember.  I got my BA in International Politics because I wanted to live and work abroad.  I built up my professional skills and experience in areas that I thought would give me greater opportunities to work abroad.  I married a woman who shares my love of travel and desire to live and work abroad.  And yet, the one company that provided me the greatest opportunities for professional growth - and to which I dedicated my professional career so far - is also probably the only company in Washington, DC that neither conducted any business further abroad than Windsor, Ontario, nor ever seemed to want to.

God almighty, it was frustrating to be "housebound" to the domestic market!  But the golden handcuffs of a substantial paycheck coming from a successful business is difficult to unlock.

Until the day that I finally ripped them off.

Being a true American, I find that few things focus the mind and motivate efforts more than desperation.  I couldn't dedicate myself fully to finding new work if I was already fully occupied at my old job.  But if I am living solely on savings while trying to find work, I have a strong encouragement to find that work as quickly as possible.  And so, without any idea of how I would find a job in Berlin, I resigned from my old job.  I have skills.  I have experience.  I am ambitious.  And if I may be allowed to brag, I like to think that I am slightly less -ahem- not-so-bright than many people out there (of course, most people think that about themselves, so that probably just makes me about average).  Surely, so I convinced myself, somebody in Berlin would need what I have to offer.

And so, I have hit the ground in Berlin running.  I have been talking to everybody I can find who has any kind of entrepreneurial or business contacts.  I have been seeking out startup businesses that need an experienced manager who can help them expand into the North American market.  I have been seeking out American companies that are expanding operations in Europe, and who need experienced people who are already on the ground here.  I have been contacted about starting a European chapter of a professional association to which I belonged in the U.S.  I have been war gaming my own entrepreneurial ideas.  I have even been working pro bono on a strategy paper for a neighbor of mine who is interested in fielding a new marketing concept in the renewable energy industry.  In the meantime, I send out at least one resume a day in the hope that I can generate some interest.  If life has taught me anything, it is that the biggest opportunities are the ones you least expect, so I have tried to avoid focusing too laser-like on a single career path.  Rather, I have been advertising my skills and experience, and have invited companies to utilize those assets where they think they would be most profitable.

At this point, this job search isn't even about making money (yet).  I have a freelance work visa here in Berlin, so I can do pretty much whatever I want to do from home.  I just miss working in an office with other professionals.

I know there are jobs out there for me in Berlin.  Everybody I talk to says that there are companies here that would trip over themselves to hire me.  The trick is finding them. 

Relocated to Berlin: Signing Up for School

I will admit to not knowing much about the German public school system when we started looking for a place for my daughter to go to school.  For the past four years, my daughter had attended the Deutsche Schule just outside of Washington, DC, and this school follows German standards and curriculum.  But the Deutsche Schule is an exclusive private school that caters to the children of diplomats and Volkswagen/Audi executives, and we would be sending our daughter to a Berlin neighborhood public school.

Our minds were not set at ease when, before we left Washington, our daughter's former Kindergarten teacher warned us that we were making a horrible mistake by not sending our daughter to Berlin's private and exclusive John F. Kennedy School.  While she had never lived nor taught there herself, this teacher said she has friends who live in Berlin who tell her horror stories about Berlin public schools.

At the same time, we had no desire to send our daughter to some private American enclave on the other side of the city.  The whole purpose of our move was to at least try to "go native."  We were tired of long commutes to and from school.  We were tired of our daughter not having any neighborhood friends because she went to a different school from everybody else.  We were determined to go the neighborhood public school route.  If it really turned out to be a disaster, we could always transfer our daughter to JFK or some other private school at some point in the future.

Fortunately, as with public schools around the world, much of whether a school is good or bad depends on the engagement of the parents in the educational process.  In Berlin, all schools receive the same amount of funding per student, regardless of neighborhood or school district.  But some schools are extremely successful, while others fail, because the parents take an active part in supporting the teachers and school administration while pushing their own children to take advantage of their educational opportunities.  Our daughter's school is one of these places where parental involvement has bred success.

Admittedly, it was something of a surprise to visit the school for the first time.  While it would look familiar to anybody who ever attended a Midwestern Catholic parochial school - as both my wife and I have at some point in our lives - with ancient red brick walls, heavily worn stone staircases, and Spartan looking decor, it was a far cry from our daughter's former digs.  Her "new" school was built between 1873 and 1877, making it one of the oldest remaining elementary school buildings in Berlin (although it was renovated in 2006).  Unlike the bucolic suburban splendor of her previous school, her new school has no green space to speak of - although the classes do make regular trips to some spectacular local parks if the kids need to run around more than the sandy school playground allows.

Perhaps the most stark reminder that our daughter is not going to a suburban private school in the United States any more comes from the lyrics of her new school's official school song.  I clearly remember my own school's official song waxing poetic about the waving school colors.  Our daughter's new school's song reminisces over how the children used to have to "stand firm" for the Kaiser, about how they would have to learn how to dodge falling bombs to get to school, and about how they tasted freedom for the first time - just 24 years ago - when the Wall fell.

Despite the stark differences, our daughter loves her new school.  She has teachers who challenge her.  She has friends from all over the world with whom she can visit regularly after school.  Her new school is even in the process of building a brand new gymnasium which is scheduled to open in the fall.  As parents, my wife and I could not be happier.

Relocated to Berlin: Getting New Stuff

After having previously sung the praises of getting rid of old stuff, after arriving in Berlin, and after quickly coming to the realization that at least some stuff is necessary for the basic function of life in the modern world, we reluctantly unwrapped our new Deutsche Bank debit cards and headed out to the stores to restuffify ourselves.

So, what did we need?  Unlike many Berlin city apartments, we have ample space not just for a full-size clothes washer, but for a full-size dryer as well.   Unfortunately, the previous tenant took their washer and dryer with them, meaning we would have to act fast to ensure that we wouldn't get too stinky by wearing the same underpants more than 5 days in a row.

Second, we needed a coffee maker.  This was not optional, and it could not be delayed.

After that, pretty much every common electrical appliance needed to be replaced, as our American electronics would not have worked here.  That included a TV, a stereo, an alarm clock, a vacuum cleaner, a slow-cooker for my wife, new telephones, a new printer/scanner, plug adapters for our iPads and iPhones, and plug adapters for our laptop computers.  One of the most urgent questions we asked our relocation adviser, after "Can you pick us up at the airport?" was "Where can we buy all of this stuff?"

For anybody leaving one country and moving to another, a useful first step in getting acquainted with your new consumer milieu is to find new analogs for old consumer habits.

As any American will tell you, big box stores are the embodiment of evil.  After telling you that, they will then immediately hop in their SUV and will drive to Walmart or Target.  While we could never quite get over the feeling that we were doing Lucifer's dark bidding by shopping at Walmart, we did regularly shop at other big box stores like Best Buy for home electronics and Home Depot for tools and general home maintenance supplies. 

Fortunately (or unfortunately, depending on how you look at it), Germany has also succumbed to the allure of the big box store.  In place of America's Best Buy, there is Germany's Media Markt.  In place of America's Home Depot, there is Germany's Obi.  Both stores are almost identical to their American analogs, and both stores are almost ubiquitous - even in Berlin's urban jungle.

Fortunately, both Media Markt and Obi were also a quick tram ride away from our new apartment.  Every day, for three weeks, my wife and I took the tram up to the conveniently adjacent stores on the corner of Greifswalder Straße and Ostseestraße.  Every day, we trudged back home, past the lunchtime crowds sitting outside our street's multiple Indian restaurants, bakeries, and coffee shops, with our arms aching from the weight of some new appliance or accessory.

When it was all over, I almost felt sad that I would not be making those daily trips any more.  After three weeks, our apartment was (more or less) fully furnished and equipped with the latest German home appliances.  And the best part was, despite our not having a car to transport all this new stuff home, we could easily get most of it there using public transportation. 

Relocated to Berlin: Settling In

In those first confusing days after touching down in Berlin, we faced the unsettling reality that we simultaneously had far too much and far too little.

As I have mentioned before, we arrived on July 24.  But under the best case scenario, we would not have anywhere to live until the previous tenants of our new apartment moved out on July 27.  Under the worst case scenario, we would not have anywhere to live until our lease officially began on July 30.

In the meantime, we had to find somewhere to stay that was relatively near to our new home; somewhere that had adequate space for two adults both who snore like jet engines and a little girl who goes to bed at 8:00 pm; somewhere that would let us keep our cat; and somewhere that would not cost the equivalent of a month's rent for the three to six nights that we would need it.  Unlike tourists, we were hauling along with us the possessions that we thought we would need until our household goods arrived via ship.  It wasn't much in absolute terms, but it was certainly more than a toothbrush and a few changes of summer clothing.

As it turns out, there is a lovely little hotel just four blocks away that fit the bill almost perfectly. 

Tucked away inside an unassuming street-front building, on a lovely cobbled street in Prenzlauer Berg, is the Myer's Hotel.  Here we would find our refuge until our permanent housing would become available.  While our room was small, it was comfortable.  And best of all, they allow pets!  ...check that. . . And best of all, they have an awesome breakfast buffet.

In the meantime, it was becoming increasingly unclear when we would actually be able to leave the hotel and move into our apartment.  The previous tenants would leave on July 27, and our relocation adviser arranged for them to hand over the keys then.  We would be meeting with the building managers on July 30, at which point we would officially take over the lease, and could move in.  But that left open the question of what would happen in the intervening three days.  Since we already had our keys, could we simply move in?  Could we bring our baggage over, but continue to sleep at the hotel?  Would there be any legal issues if it was discovered that we were inside the apartment without permission from the landlord?  We asked our relocation adviser what our options, risks, and liabilities were, but she was reluctant to ever give us a straight answer.

Finally, as July 27 arrived, we could wait for an answer no longer.  As far as the hotel was concerned, we were leaving that day, and arranging for an extension might be a problem as the weekend was approaching.  Exasperated and panicked, as we could not reach our adviser, I booked us for one additional night in the hotel, but was told that no additional nights would be possible.  As we later met at our new apartment, I quietly cornered my adviser and would not let her go until she gave me a straight answer; could we stay in the apartment or not?

Well. . . yes and no.  Officially, the apartment still belonged to the previous tenants.  But they were giving us their keys, making us their "guests" until they officially relinquished residency.  We could bring our things over.  We could sleep there.  But we should probably pack everything back up for official transfer on July 30, just to - you know - not raise too many awkward questions.

Fair enough!  That's all I needed to know.  Keys were handed over.  We immediately hauled our bags and the cat from the hotel to our new apartment, at which point we realized how little we actually had that is necessary for normal life.  While we have a fitted kitchen (unusual in Berlin apartments), we had no dishes or cookware to prepare food.  We had a week's change of clothing, but no way of washing them.  We had no lighting, as German apartment tenants typically take their lighting fixtures with them when they move.  We had no beds and extremely limited bedding, although we had borrowed inflatable mattresses from our relocation adviser.  And perhaps worst of all, we had no chairs.  As a society, we take for granted the comfort that is offered by the simple act of sitting on something other than the floor.

That first night in our Berlin apartment was staggeringly uncomfortable - a condition not helped by it being the hottest day of the year, with temperatures reaching nearly 100 degrees.  But now, at least we were home!  Or, at least we were in a place that would become a home with the judicious addition of seating.

Relocating to Berlin: Goodbyeee

When you add up all of the sleepless nights, the panic attacks, the upset stomachs, the moments when you believe that you are making the biggest mistake of your entire life, you get to the point when almost everything you own - including your house - has been sold, you have quit your job, you have withdrawn your child from school.  All you have left in the world is your family, your life's savings, and a plane ticket. 

On July 23, 2013, that is all I had left.

To be overly dramatic, I was reminded of my own ancestors who came to the United States under similar circumstances.  They too were leaving behind all they knew; their home; all their friends; most of their family; to start a new life in a new country where they didn't know the culture and they didn't know the language.  Of course, we have certain advantages now that my ancestors did not.  We had been to Berlin before many times.  We have ample professional skills and enough money to live comfortably until we get settled in.  And best of all, we have a really top-notch relocation adviser.  That, and our voyage wouldn't last several weeks confined to Steerage.

Although, we were booked to fly coach through Newark.  So that is the rough modern equivalent.

And so, with one suitcase and one carry-on bag each - one of which containing the heavily sedated cat - we locked up our house for the last time and hit the road to Baltimore, where we would begin the first leg of our journey.

Of course, any time a trip goes through Newark, you can rely on something going wrong.  And we were not disappointed.  Immediately upon checking in, we were informed that our flight from Baltimore to Newark would be delayed by at least one hour.  We had a two hour layover in Newark, so we were already cutting things pretty fine.  And if prior experience was any guide, this one hour delay could turn into a cancelled flight in the blink of an eye.  We would have nowhere to go if we could not make our connection in Newark, and with a cat in tow, we could not be assured of finding a hotel that would take us in.

Visions of running for the Acela train from Baltimore to Newark ran through our heads as we tried to come up with alternatives.  If we left the airport right now, we might just make it in time.  But we would have to leave all of our luggage behind.  It was not an appealing option.

But fate smiled on us that day.  The weather briefly cleared.  Our flight to Newark was assigned a very small window through which to fly.  And, after six months of planning, we were finally off.

Baltimore to Newark was otherwise fairly ordinary.  We had adequate time in Newark to find our departing gate to Berlin, and to use the restrooms, although not to get a drink to help calm us down for the next leg of the journey.  Newark to Berlin was similarly uneventful, although sleep on the red-eye flight was fitful at best.  Even the cat, whose kitty Valium had worn off long ago, seemed surprisingly mellow and content with her new adventure.

And on the morning of July 24, 2013, we finally touched down at Berlin's Tegel Airport.

We quickly retrieved our bags and passed through Tegel's remarkably casual Customs and immigration line.  Our cat's paperwork, painstakingly assembled and certified by my wife, was barely glanced at.  Ellis Island, it certainly wasn't.  But at least it was quick, relatively tuberculosis free (as far as we could tell), and we didn't have to change our names.

We were met at the airport by our relocation adviser, who immediately whisked us to her office to sign several dozen forms relating to banking, schools for our daughter, immigration, residency, work permits, and health care.  And from there we were dropped off at our hotel, where we would stay until our apartment would become available on July 27.

And through all of this, what was our first impression upon arriving in Berlin?  My God, it's hot!!!!  We arrived just at the beginning of over a week of 90+ degree temperatures (that's 32+ degrees to my non-American readers), with temperatures hitting almost 100 (38!!!!) for a couple of days, and almost nobody here has air conditioning.

But after all we had gone through, we weren't complaining. . . well, not much anyway.

Relocating to Berlin: Packing for The Great Migration

I would like to start by apologizing to my dozens (handful?  couple?) of readers for not posting in such a long time.  On July 23 (just over a month ago), my family and I packed up the house, locked the door, drove to the airport, and left the world that we knew behind.  It has taken us this long to get Internet.

Now that we are here in Berlin, and are more or less established, I will make a flurry of posts to describe the moving experience, and to try to bring everybody up to date on what all has been going on for the past month.  I may occasionally have to refer to my notes, as they have been action packed days.

Way back on July 9, the movers came.  On July 10, they came again.  Over those two days, everything that we were keeping, but that we thought we could live without for the next 4-6 weeks, was wrapped up and crammed into a shipping container.  A word to the wise: unless you move internationally on a regular basis or are in the military, if you think you know what you can live without for 4-6 weeks, you are wrong.

Granted, my wife, daughter, and I were each limited to one suitcase and one carry-on bag, so our choices of what to ship and what to carry would probably have been about the same.  But we quickly realized what we find important in our day to day lives.

First:  Bedding.  We were selling our old master bedroom set and a futon with our old house, so we all could sleep at least moderately comfortably until the day we left our house.  But pillows and blankets take up a lot of space, so they had to be shipped.  Let me just say, no matter how warm it is or how much you think you can live without a pillow, if a pillow and blanket are what you are used to sleeping with, not having them is misery. 

Second:  Pots and pans.  Anybody who has ever met me can tell immediately that I like to eat out in restaurants.  Anybody who has ever been to Berlin can tell you that the city is full of excellent and cheap(!!!!) restaurants.  But eating at restaurants three meals a day for four weeks gets really old really fast.  My wife and I became experts in finding foods that could be prepared at home with little more than a paper plate and a plastic spoon.  Frozen pizzas are excellent.  Cold cereal is another good option.  After a week, my wife bought a slow cooker (all of our American appliances had to stay behind), so we had lots of soups with very roughly cut (broken, torn, pulled apart) vegetables and little seasoning beyond salt.

Third:  Office machines.  From the moment that we landed in Berlin, everybody has been requesting that we e-mail scans of documents; passports, registration permits, residency documents, insurance statements, bank account statements, etc. ad nauseum.  The problem was, we had no Internet, no scanner, no printer, and the one laptop that we brought with us only had some files that we needed on the hard drive.  Everybody who provided us with services needed payment via bank transfer (that is the primary way that everybody gets paid in Germany).  But without Internet access we couldn't get onto our bank's website.  If we took the laptop to an Internet cafe, we would also need to bring all of our written PIN numbers, passwords, and security question answers (to understand why, you need to experience German online banking first-hand) with us, which we decided was far too insecure on an open network.  If we went into our bank in person, the account ATMs are only in German, and few of the tellers speak enough English to help us.  The mobile application that we accessed using our iPhones is worse than useless.  And God help you if you try to call your personal banker on the telephone (yeah, we've got one of those).  I'm still on hold for a question I had three weeks ago!

As it turns out, it only took about one month for all of our things to arrive at our new apartment in Berlin.  Our first night with blankets and pillows was the best night's sleep I have had in years.  Just the simple act of cooking pasta is a joy.  As for the office machines. . . well, that took a little longer.  But I'll talk about that later.

Relocating to Berlin: House Hunting

Hello, and welcome to our House Hunt in Berlin.  My wife and I had one week in Berlin to look for a place to live after our relocation at the end of July.  We had a list of priorities:

1)  Walking distance to our daughter's school in Prenzlauer Berg;
2)  Three bedrooms (Master bedroom, bedroom for our daughter, and a spare bedroom/home office);
3)  Balcony, deck, or other outdoor space;
4)  Fitted kitchen;
5)  At least two bathrooms;
6)  Pet friendly.

And our budget was capped at €2,500/month utilities included, although the lower the better. 

The Choices:

House 1:  "Leafy Luxury"
Our first stop was to a building on a quiet tree-lined cobble-stoned side street in the Prenzlauer Berg neighborhood.  From the street, the building is beautiful and fresh looking.  As an interior building, we have to be buzzed through the street facing building into an interior courtyard, where we then walk to the building where the apartment is located, where we are buzzed in again.  The apartment is on the 5th story of a 5-story building, has three bedrooms, two full bathrooms, two large balconies, and a roof deck with a spectacular view of downtown Berlin.  The building was originally constructed in 1897, but was completely renovated and refurbished in 2007.  The fitted kitchen is small but modern.  The bedrooms and balconies are spacious.  But the ultimate moment in visiting this apartment is the walk up the private stairway to the private roof deck.  This massive outdoor area has breathtaking views of downtown Berlin, including my personal favorite part of the Berlin skyline: the Fernsehturm.

House 1 is two blocks from our daughter's school, and has two wine shops, half a dozen restaurants, and a grocery store within steps of our front door.  Other great features of House 1 are an elevator, bright skylights, air conditioning (!!!!!), and underground parking.  As we will not have a car, we have the option of sub-leasing this parking space to help to mitigate the rent.  The trick is that the current occupants have a lease that extends through August 31, over one month after we arrive in Berlin.

Size:  1,654 sq. ft.
Price:  €2,228/month all-inclusive


House 2:  "Gated Glamor"

Our second stop was to a very unique "English Townhouse" development in the space left by the former turn of the previous century Schneider Brewery.  This small gated community, built in 2007, consists of a number of loft-style apartments and three-level townhouses.  House 2 was one of these townhouses, and consists of three bedrooms on the top two levels, including a beautiful but cramped master bedroom that includes a fireplace, steam shower for two (or more), and massive bathtub.  Behind the house is a small but pretty yard with grass and a tiny fish pond.  On top of the house - up a terrifying exterior spiral staircase - is a roof deck that has an even more spectacular view than that at House 1.  With heated floors, air conditioning, pre-wired surround sound, centrally controlled lighting, and a fitted kitchen with premium appliances, House 2 is a luxurious dream home in a central Berlin area.

House 2 is also two blocks from our daughter's school, although she would have to cross busy Greifswalder Straße to get there.  The development has a private playground and a water fountain in which the many kids in the neighborhood can play.  However, the development is somewhat controversial in that it is a gated community consisting primarily of expatriates that is both physically and socially segregated from the surrounding neighborhood.  The house also has both garage and on-street parking, which we can use for overflow storage.  The trick is that the owner - who currently lives in Munich - will be returning to Berlin in 2016, so this would be a 3 year lease at the most.

Size:   1,518 sq. ft.
Price:  €2,450/month all-inclusive


House 3:  "Gritty Greifswalder"
Our third stop was a work in progress.  By this point, we were used to the transitional nature of Prenzlauer Berg, where old bullet-scarred, leaky, working-class tenements are being renovated to become luxury flats for Berlin's new entrepreneurial class.  But when we walked up to House 3 on the still fairly rough looking Greifswalder Straße, we felt more than a little underwhelmed.  The building is covered from top to bottom in scaffolding and tarpaulins, while legions of tradesmen are everywhere hammering, plastering, painting, and sanding.  With considerable caution, we picked our way through the construction debris, up the dusty stairs in an interior building, toward the 3rd story apartment in a 6-story building.  What we saw when we finally opened the door was jaw-dropping.  This former industrial "altbau" (old construction) building has been converted into beautiful flats.  High ceilings, beautifully restored original hardwood floors, and vaulted windows are matched with an ultra-modern kitchen, sunny balconies, and three spacious bedrooms.

House 3 is just around the corner from our daughter's school, and while it is on busy Greifswalder Straße, she would not have to cross it to get to school.  Construction on the front building and the common areas is expected to continue until the end of 2013, during which time rent would be reduced by 20% to compensate for the dust and inconvenience.  Unlike House 1, House 3 is available almost immediately (following some final painting touch-ups).  Unlike House 2, House 3 has an open ended lease term.  While House 3 is the smallest of the three options, it is also by far the least expensive.

Size:  1,393 sq. ft.
Price:  €1,596/month all-inclusive, not including temporary 20% reduction


The Decision:

As is customary in the House Hunt, one choice of the three has to be eliminated.  Despite its appeal on paper, my wife and I looked at each other and immediately crossed House 2 off of our list.  The rooms seemed small or poorly laid out.  The master bathroom and the master bedroom were combined into one big room - although the toilet was mercifully placed in its own room.  The climb to the roof deck was terrifying, even when sober.  However, what really disqualified House 2 was the fact that it is in a gated community.  The whole purpose of our move to Berlin is to live like Berliners and to be a part of the urban community.  We could never feel that way if there is a gate separating us from our new neighbors.

The choice between Houses 1 and 3 was slightly more difficult, but only slightly.  House 1 is on a beautiful quiet street, has a stunning view, has loads of outdoor space, and has large well laid out rooms.  House 3 is spacious, is well laid out, and is significantly less expensive.  But House 3 is also on a very busy street without much personality, and as a mid-story apartment, it has no view to speak of.  Perhaps just as important to consider, House 3 is available immediately upon our arrival in Berlin, while House 1 is potentially not available until over a month after we arrive.  However, while I could settle for House 3, House 1 is everything that I always wanted when moving to Berlin.


The Aftermath:

My wife and I applied for both House 1 and House 3 in order to ensure that we got at least one of our choices, but we told our relocation agent that House 1 was our first choice.  After providing extensive proof of income and financial history, House 1 agreed verbally to our offer to sign a lease.  A week after reaching this verbal agreement, we are still waiting to sign the official lease.  We are assured that this delay is primarily due to it being summer vacation time in Berlin - a time when forward progress on any business slows to a crawl, if it doesn't come to a complete stop.  In the end, it turns out that the timing of our move may not be as big an issue as we had first feared.  The current tenants of House 1 already have a lease on their new residence, and they want to get out as soon as possible so that they do not have to pay rent for two homes.  If they had their choice, we could move in now.  The question is whether the landlord will let us move in early, as it is traditional for the outgoing tenant to re-paint and repair any damage to walls or appliances they caused, and the landlord may want to ensure that the apartment doesn't degrade too much if that work isn't done in-between tenants.

As far as I am concerned, the game is over but for the shouting.  Our furniture was moved out of our Washington, DC house yesterday, and is on its way to House 1 to arrive on August 3, whether we are there or not to receive it.  As with many things in this relocation, we cope with issues as they arise.  But at least we have made the most difficult and consequential choice of this relocation process so far.  That feels pretty good!