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.