It’s amazing to me the hundreds of euros I have spent on taxis in recent months. Spanish taxis were on the more reasonable side, particularly after a couple of hours in Germany. 46 Euros will get you from Frankfurt airport to Darmstadt. 11 euros is a one way trip from my hotel in Darmstadt to the office in Weiterstadt.
I certainly have had no intentions to continue the daily cab excursions; I simply cannot afford it. However, with a final decision yet to be made about a car (something about $4.5 per gallon of gasoline kind of freaks me out), I needed to find a short term solution within my economic means for the work commute. Of course, it would be important to first locate suitable accommodation other than my hotel room in Darmstadt, nice as it is.
Sorting out the apartment initially seemed a bit tricky. Estate agents, deposits, high prices, and oh, the language were challenges that I had to consider. I was spending quite a bit of time on a couple of housing websites when my co-worker phoned up to say that she had arranged for me to see an apartment in Frankfurt the Monday evening before Christmas. She set up a taxi to take me into city, wait while I met with the agent, then return me to Darmstadt.
Weiterstadt is really about 30km outside of Frankfurt, and easily accessible by the autobahn. The problem was that the taxi driver wasn’t too familiar with Frankfurt, so we got a bit lost en route. Several times he’d look over to me as if I knew where we were going, and I had to continue to give him my “I haven’t a fucking clue, mate” look. After a couple of calls to the estate agent, we arrived in Bornheim, a little district on the north side of the city.
Noting the Irish pub about 15 feet from my front door, I headed upstairs to meet the estate agent, and was immediately pleased. I had already seen some on-line pictures, so had a rough feel for the place. Ten minutes after I’d arrived, I informed the lady that I was definitely interested, but would need to talk to her the week after Christmas.
On the way back to Darmstadt, the cab driver told me about his sex life in his broken English, I hadn’t actually invited him to tell me anything, but I sort of nodded and smiled from time to time and hoped that the fare wouldn’t be more than the cash I had in my pocket. 150 euros, it was, and gee, that’s a lot of money for a guy who hadn’t been reimbursed for his business expenses yet.
Speaking of high prices, the apartment is a little pricey, but being that it’s fully furnished, complete with all appliances, sheets, towels, plates, glasses, etc, I realized that I wasn’t going to find anything better for less money. Besides, the location seemed excellent, and the work commute appears doable.
So I nipped off to Spain for a few days, and returned on the 27th to the office hoping to get a bank account, my residence card, and finalize the apartment. Well, one out of three wasn’t too bad.
The office was a bit quiet the week after Christmas, but I had loads to do in my project. My co-worker was out until the 2nd of January, so I was going to end the year without a bank account, which initially meant that I wouldn’t be able to get paid. I did call my estate agent, and she explained that I could pay the deposit (two months) and first month’s rent in cash. Wow, not a small figure, really.
I had a brief word with my manager, and explained the situation. He thought for a moment, then said, “No problem. We’ll pay your expense report (which included a whopping 1000 euro hotel bill from England) along with part of your salary, all in cash.” Fine by me.
Friday morning, I showered for the last time in my Darmstadt hotel room, took an 11 euro taxi to work, had a couple of meetings, then received a note from the finance department for me to go see Frau Steller.
Up the stairs I went, and Frau Steller greeted me with a, “Do you really want this much in cash?”
“Um, I guess so,” I responded, not quite sure how much she was about to give me.
I’ve never held 5000 euros in cash before (dollars, either, for that matter), and after the initial shock, casually put the money in an envelope in my back pocket, and hoped like hell that I didn’t get jacked up in the bathroom.
Around 3pm, I called the estate agent back, and arranged to meet her at the apartment around 5.30. I packed up my hotel room, and gave the cab driver a feeble smile when I confirmed that yes, all of the stuff in the hotel lobby DID need to go in the car.
We only experienced a little traffic, thanks to the holiday weekend, and I was relieved to find that the agent was already there. I quickly unloaded the taxi and all my stuff was curbside; I really didn’t want anyone to zip by and help themselves to any of my stuff. Fortunately, the cab driver waited until my gear was inside the front door, so all I had to do was lug everything up to the first floor.
The agent and I completed an inventory of everything in the house, which gave me a better opportunity to realize just what kind of place I’ve gotten myself into. It seems the owner is a Scottish man who is working in Zurich for the next five years. Meanwhile, he took the time to kit his place in Frankfurt out pretty good. I’ve never set foot in an IKEA store, but now I don’t see any reason to. Everything from IKEA is in my place. All things considered, I’m really impressed with the guy’s taste.
The living room is fairly basic, with sofa, easy chair, coffee table, bookshelves, and a stereo television. The bedroom has plenty of storage space, and a double bed nestled in the corner. The kitchen is super modern with plenty of things to cook with. The bathroom is a dream: completely new fixtures, allowing for a full size bathtub and separate shower. It takes almost two minutes to cross the bathroom, it’s that big.
After I signed the contract, the agent took me down the street to the grocery, where I stocked up on a few staples. I live right off of Berger Strasse, which is an awesome street filled with little pubs, restaurants, and shops. It’s the main high street in the district, but runs almost to the center of the city.
I spent Friday evening unpacking all of my stuff; I’d been living out of suitcases for all of December, and many of my things were still folded into my packing envelopes from the initial move out of Spain. Around 8, I walked down the street and found a kebap shop, where I enjoyed a couple of beers as I waited for my durums. The staff were friendly, and one of the guys asked if I’d been to the pub yet. “Nope, but all in good time.”
Saturday morning, I fired up my new stove-top espresso maker (thanks Moe, it’s rockin’) and enjoyed a kaffee on my patio, which overlooks the back courtyard. Think more Rear Window as opposed to Melrose Place and you’ll have a pretty good idea of the set up. Pretty fucking cool.
I walked up and down Berger Strasse on Saturday afternoon amongst the little street markets, shoppers, glühwein wine stalls, and kept smiling. “Dang, I wish I knew what people were saying,” I thought to myself as I tried to get my bearings. It was a wee bit chilly, but I enjoyed the stroll. I located my local Schlecker, stocked up on stuff, then made a return trip to the supermarket to buy enough food to last through the holiday weekend.
At 6pm, I walked into the Irish pub, ordered a pint of John Smith, then sat down to watch the Arsenal match being showed on Sky One. I felt a little giddy as I recapped the last 24 hours: moved into a cool new place in Frankfurt, Irish pub 5 seconds away from my front door, Arsenal match on the tube…
OK, so I was a bit agitated as Arsenal lost to a relegation zone team. On the positive side, I was comfortably numb with the beers, and chatted with a couple of the pub staff, including a really nice German girl who has nice dimples. I wrapped up the evening with a return to the kebap shop, which, in hindsight, was not as good an idea two nights running, especially after a handful of pints. Ah well, I had to christen the new apartment somehow…
I woke up a little earlier on New Year’s Eve, as I had an agenda. First, I needed to check out of my Darmstadt hotel. Second, I wanted to figure out how to use the public rail service so that I can get to work every day. The metro stop is about a five minute walk away, and I more or less found myself in the train station before too long. I wandered around until I found the trains for Darmstadt, then found myself on a 35 minute ride through 15 stops on the commuter line. Must see if we can improve the logistics a bit, but it’s doable.
I collected a couple of items from my hotel, and completed the check-out, taxied back to the Darmstadt train station, bought a monats karte, and boarded an ICE train back to Frankfurt. This was more like it: 15 minutes direct from station to station, sin para. Back on the U-Bahn to my little Bornheim Mitte stop, and I was back in the apartment, where I amused myself with a little cinema on the television, including Flashdance. I’m not sure if a guy who just bought the back catalog of Bad Religion should be able to express his enthusiasm for a movie like this (er, I also watched the Wedding Singer), but hell, I’m going to. I'l even go out on a limb and say that after a few weeks watching VIVA and German MTV, I now have a new crush on Gwen Stefani. Wind it up.
The pub was pretty festive when I arrived at 9, and I paced myself on the Guinness, not wanting to repeat the previous evening’s performance. I caught up with my new acquaintances, and met a few other folks enjoying a few drinks. A dj started playing a mix of various types of music, and updated us periodically with the time. Not surprisingly, a few U2 songs were played in honor of the bar, though I’m not sure why someone wanted to play Achy Breaky Heart, nor a song by John Denver. Eclectic tastes? Definitely. However, I, too was going nuts with the rest of the bar when they played Major Tom, the popular German/English song from the 80s. 4,3,2,1 Earth below us….
A drunk Irish guy got a bit longwinded with me, but bought me a beer once he discovered that I’ve read some Keats. Midnight hit, and the packed bar ran out into the plaza to shoot off fireworks, and we’re not just talking blackcats. Some guy loaded up some super duper bottle rocket things that almost tore off a tree limb, and after a shower of burning cinders, I took the opportunity to return to the safety of the bar for another drink.
My drunk buddy disappeared at some point, and I realized that I was about to wind things down, too. My German bar maid excitedly told me about the German new wave songs that the dj was now playing while she danced around. No extra charge for the dimples.
Then, out of nowhere, on came one of my favorite Héroes del Silencio songs. Another German standing nearby clearly was a fan; he was belting out the tunes pretty well. I took the moment to reminisce on good times celebrating New Years in Spain with 12 grapes, good dinners and good company.
Everyone in the bar was pretty well oiled by this time, and I knew that I had no business ordering another drink. A quick visit to the gents (I simply didn’t want to wait 15 seconds until l I got home), then I returned home for nighty night.
Fade to Tuesday, 2 January. I made the commute via u-bahn, ice train, and autobus in about an hour flat. With the exception that I stood at the wrong bus stop for five minutes until I realized that I was mistaken, no problems whatsoever.
I'm assuming that I'll be able to reverse things and get home this evening.
Feliz Año Nuevo, guten Rutsch, y Happy New Year a todos
keep the faith
bryan
Soundtrack
Madness: Our House
Héroes del Silencio – Entre dos tierras
U2 – New Year’s Day
Irene Cara– Flashdance, What a feeling
Carter USM – You Fat Bastard
Peter Schilling – Major Tom (Völlig losgelöst)
No comments:
Post a Comment