Settling into our new apartment has been a series of lessons and luck. In earlier posts, when I referred to the 4 H’s of relocation, (honeymoon, hostility, humor, home) I had been in Berlin for only a week, and I was of course in the honeymoon stage. Everything was new and enchanting. I am an easily enchanted person, and I still feel very much this way. Admittedly, however, a little healthy skepticism has crept in. I wouldn’t call it hostility though. In fact, as I sit down to write this, I actually do find a lot of what we have experienced pretty funny. As I write this. When new challenges in a new country are happening to you, it isn’t so funny. It’s frustrating and exhausting. Thank goodness for retrospective, and as Blanche from “Street Car” would say, “the kindness of strangers”…

Tall Uncle Paul

We had to buy a mattress, so we could sleep in our new home. We could have taken the train to Ikea, (which seems to be the only big box type of store that Berliners hold in esteem, and this is good, except when you need a lot of various things all at once) but we decided to try a nearer option. We walked to a local shop to support small business. After finding the mattress we wanted, we asked the saleswoman if she spoke English. She shook her head. In her expression, I recognized a small fear that I used to see in every older student of English. I decided to be patient. I used body language, (easy to do when you walk with a crutch, and it’s clear that you need a good mattress) and I smiled. She warmed up a little, but I could tell it was still a struggle for her. She didn’t really want to speak English, and I suppose, why should she? This was Germany after all. We should be trying harder in her home tongue.

But then a miracle happened in the form of a tall German man whom I swear looked like my Uncle Paul (May he rest in peace). “You need English?” he asked. “Yes, please,” we responded gratefully. He proceeded to translate for us. As she realized that we were serious, some very clear sales English came out. I had to tease her about this. She smiled, blushed a little, and went to the desk to get the paper work for purchase. Tall Uncle Paul then took us aside furtively and said, “Don’t buy the frame. The mattress, ok. But you can get the frame from another place for cheaper.” I loved this exchange! There is something in the buying and selling of things here that seems old world, an understanding about shopping that I remember my grandparents had and one that they passed to both my mother and me. Seeking a bargain is not only valued but also prized. If you find a good price for something in this Ma and Pa environment, you share this discovery proudly with your friends, and small business flourishes as it should.

The Case of the Mysterious Duschvorange

At the same time, if you think you are not getting a deal, you leave that store immediately. For this, I will not name names. I have heard that there are cultural taboos here about this. If you insult someone publicly, they may have you arrested. I don’t know how true this is, but I won’t take any chances in writing. I suppose this makes sense. In the U.S., people sue one another for slander. Another taboo is jay walking. If you do this in front of a child, there is a good chance you will get yelled at. Makes sense. Even the dogs in this city wait for the lights. But there is a cultural thing here that I have noticed that does not make sense, and it can indeed involve a little yelling or scolding. In the U.S., when you ride public transportation, and you are handicapped or elderly, people get up to give you their seats. When I have ridden here, it is rare that anyone moves. Once, on the U-Bahn, a nice woman around my age did get up for me. She pointed her finger and scolded every younger person who surrounded us. They looked back at her like placid cows.

But away from the cows and back to the rip offs. In some of the stores here, seemingly simple things are priced bizarrely. Enter the case of the mysterious duschvorange. Yes, in the land of big bathtubs and lovely bathrooms, the shower curtain is almost mythical. Everyone knows what one is, but no one can tell you where to get a real one, a decent one, for a reasonable price (Again, the answer for any apartment need is, “You gotta go to Ikea.” In a recent email to my friend Christine, I confessed that I really missed Target). In the search for this elusive item, Sophie, my tutor, and I first went to a store similar to a U.S. department store. We found that shower curtains there were 45 euros. What? I thought maybe this was because it was a designer label or something. No. When Sophie asked the saleswoman why they were so high, she responded, “Quality.” Uh huh. Our dubious faces told her that we were buying neither the curtain nor that justification. Sophie is a very funny young woman. In this department store, she laughed openly at the toilet seat covers saying, “Who really needs a fuzzy toilet?” Also, when we were filling out the gazillion forms to get our apartment, she helped interpret an essay type prompt that basically asked why we wanted this particular apartment. Again, she laughed and said, “This is like asking, ‘Do you like my potato salad? Tell me why. Really.'” Funny woman.

So she and I moved on to a store that was similar to a a drug store, because we thought we might find a cheaper, simple shower curtain there. I should mention that all I wanted was a white one or a beige one. I thought these neutral colors would be easy to find. We asked the saleswoman if they carried shower curtains. Nope. Sorry. She suggested that we go back to the department store. We argued that that store was too expensive. “True,” she said to Sophie, and then with her hand cupping her mouth, she whispered, “Try a hardware store.” Ah, the top secret, underground world of the duschvorange was headquartered with the hammer and nails. Of course. Totally get it.

Benjamin really wanted to take a shower, so later that week, he and I ventured out to a corner hardware store. We found a curtain there that was white. It had roses on it, but whatever. I could live with this. We put three items on the counter. A dish rack, a small fan, and the curtain. The young cashier rung it up. “One hundred euros, please.” What? Why was this the total? Oh, we didn’t look at the price of the shower curtain…65 euros. This was getting ridiculous. Why so high? You guessed it. Quality. Ha ha ha

In desperation for cool water on his head, Benjamin went to another local store whose name I will mention for flattery. It’s simply called, Anytime. Not only is it awesome in terms of its name, and the variety of what it sells, it is fair in price. Here Benjamin bought a curtain that was thin (like a lobster bib) but functional, and only 4 euros. Still, it did not match our bathroom, so we knew we were in for further shopping.

Finally, we discovered the sacred space known as OBI. This is the equivalent of a Home Depot in the States, right down to the orange uniforms of the employees. It was there, on the second floor, that our dreams were fulfilled. A white, simple curtain for 16 euros shined among the variety of other shower curtains equally priced. Yes! Finally. All was well.

Brushing Your Teeth with Licorice and Flowers (and the occasional menthol cough drop)

In earlier posts, I sung the praises of the apothecaries here. I still maintain that the German belief in the power of homeopathic, nutritional, or herbal cures is admirable. It is in keeping with what Benjamin and I espouse. In the U.S., we questioned Western medicine and doctors in general. We kept the book Prescriptions for Nutritional Healing in our kitchen and used it faithfully. I personally wore an ancestral badge of honor having descended from East European healer-witches.

However, never before have Benjamin and I felt more Westernized than when we went in search of pain killers (aspirin, Advil, etc.) and cold medicine. Wow. Both of us were struggling with allergies or a mild cold during our first week in this apartment. I think, after all the stresses of moving, our bodies finally decided, “Ok. You have your own bed now. It’s time to let go.” We had stuffy heads, sore throats, and coughs. We wanted Alka Seltzer Nighttime Cold Medicine. We wanted to knock ourselves out, get the sleep we needed, and move on. Well, no. Here in the apothecaries, there is nothing like Alka Seltzer. Apparently, there is aspirin, but we learned this post sniffles. There are cheaper “drug” stores here, but they still sell herbal stuff and vitamins. They are simply cheaper than the apothecaries. So we did what most North American kids do when they are sick, we asked Mom for drugs. Soon, (by shipping standards 5-10 days, or more) we will hopefully receive our first care package filled with chemical cures. Hallelujah.

On a lighter note, when we needed toothpaste, and we didn’t want to walk all the way to a “drug” store, we went into the apothecary. We knew it would most likely be more expensive, because you pay for convenience (or quality). What we didn’t know was that there exists a toothpaste that tastes like a combination of licorice and flowers. Delightfully different! When this ran out, we tried another brand. Again, no names, but this one tasted like you were brushing your teeth with a menthol cough drop. Not so yummy. Sigh… I do miss Tom’s of Maine with baking soda and mint. Spoiled, picky North American. La la la Finally, we found one with our craved baking soda and mint. We only needed to look harder in the Bio market.

Sleeping through the Light

Next, in this post of lessons and lucky strikes, I shall touch on the hemisphere where I have landed. Summer in north Europa means that the sun doesn’t set until 10 pm, and it rises promptly at 4:30 am. Adjusting to this has been, to use my favorite, horrible art school word, “interesting.” In our temporary place we had white shades and red curtains. These blocked the light, a little. Here in our new apartment, we have white curtains purchased from the former tenant. They do absolutely nothing to block out the light. I am an early riser by nature. Too many years as a teacher and my body is conditioned to be tired by ten (but wait, everyone is out on their balconies drinking) and rise by six (ok I am still doing this, and the city is lovely and quiet, except for a few hipsters stumbling home from a night out, and they inspired me in the first week to get up and write again, but wow this makes for a long, and I mean long day…as long as this parenthetical aside…good grief).

Once again, it was the wisdom of friends to the rescue. Julie and Brendan found what they call “like a Japanese Target” (did someone say Target?). Here at this magical place, they sell eye masks to help you sleep. This will be a great solution until we can afford really dark curtains. Hopefully, we will get one or the other soon. Until then…