Weather

Germans are obsessed with the weather and talking about the weather and worrying about the weather – for a good reason.  Often it simply sucks. Like mostly right now.

Call me spoiled Californian brat but cold pouring rain should not be part of summer.  Don’t get me wrong, I can happily (more or less) live with a warm tropical rain storm, one of those that soaks you like a shower in three minutes flat after which time the rain stops just as suddenly and you go your merry way, dripping but warm.

This here is different.  It rains, it is cold, it is grey – and it will be so for some time to come.  It always rains at the most inconvenient times, too.  Imagine geek-boy and I all ready to go to run this or that errand (by bike), standing in the door ready to step out: it starts raining!  Imagine geek-husband and I picking up some second hand furniture by car, once we hauled it down 4 flights of stairs (these things are always up four flights of stairs, no elevator) and open the car to put the furniture in: it starts raining.

It rains from the car to the hardware store, then stops and starts again when we leave the hardware store.  It rains in the evening just long enough so that my parents nag me to put the car into the garage (don’t ask!). I sigh, walk to the car, get wet, put it in the garage, walk back – it stops raining.

I should be happy about the rain, having experienced the California drought first hand, I should rejoice in the idea of rain.  And I do, sort of theoretically.  I’d love to send the rain over to California, I am good at sharing the wealth, really.  California, you can have it, take it, all of the rain between now and say end of October.  You’re welcome!

 

The New Designer Couch!

I scored it! I was 10 minutes early this morning (which means right on time for the German sense of punctuality and absurdly early by American standards) and was greeted by a bunch of guys who know me by now.

The famous new couch with the new old steamer trunk couch table. Carpet ideas welcome!

My couch was there waiting for me and proved to be immaculate.  It is indeed a beautiful, light grey, modern designer couch which I was told was 1800 Euro new (the boss lady said she saw the original purchase receipt) and I got for 130 Euros.   Even if she fibbed a bit and that thing was only 900 Euro it is still a steal.  I even got some help from my new best friends (I seem to be making lots of them these days, sometimes it really helps to be an extrovert from humble beginnings – I am perfectly happy to speak with anybody about almost anything including where to buy the best used cars, the fact that the German bus system is not what it used to be and that German TV personalities make too much money and am generally able to not make snarky comments about things dear to the average German, such as soccer).

They packed the couch in my parents’ car (bless that 80s style Opel with the huge loading area) and then two of them jumped on their bikes, rode over to the apartment and helped me get the couch up to the third floor, removing and reattaching feet and all.  I gave them both a generous tip (not standard in Germany and hence appreciated even more) and have already signed them up to help me do some old couch removal work on Friday.

Love that place!  In my next life I want to be a second hand stuff dealer.

Next I scored what I believe to be an old steamer trunk from my mom’s basement and after a bit of cleaning I think it will make a perfect couch table.  I am imagining a glossy tray in a yet to be determined color on top.

The pink faux lawn turns out to be the problem.  I did find some online but not in the hot pink I imagined and at 36 Euros per sqm it seems a bit excessive. Since I need at least 4 sqm this would end up costing more than the couch.  I don’t think so.  Next plan … still need to dream that one up.  I’d appreciate your ideas!

 

Renovation Tales

These days I sport what could almost pass for a French manicure – if it wasn’t for the telltale white paint streaks all over my hands, arms and the occasional snow white strand of hair. These signs betray the fact that I did play with paint, rather than nail polish, and lots of it.  In fact, 4 big old 11 liter paint buckets. All white.  All used up but for a small remnant.

Now everything is white, every last wall in the apartment, all the ceilings plus the curtains and the linen (not from paint of course), I covered the wooden headboard with a vintage linen as well. It looks nice and clean especially compared to the old wallpaper, in faded shades of peach, yellow and beige. I hate peach, pastelly yellow and beige with a vengeance especially mixed and faded.

Today I was on the quest for a night stand and found – a grey couch.  High up on a pile of other stuff in the warehouse of the Goodwill equivalent.  I couldn’t believe my luck.  I haven’t had the chance to inspect it in its entirety.  It was close to closing hours and not even the prospect of what must be a larger sale in the context of the local Goodwill equivalent was enough to convince the employees to stay a little longer.  It’s Germany after all and when the store closes, the store closes – and that is that.

Now the guys at the warehouse at the local Goodwill equivalent are fast becoming my best friends (in addition to Helmut,  the paint guy at the local hardware store) and I have gained regular access to the warehouse despite the fact that it is strictly speaking “verboten” to be in the warehouse.  So my new best friend today promised to hold the couch for me until tomorrow morning.

Assuming that there won’t be a huge red wine stain on the part I haven’t seen yet I have just scored one of the big remaining items I need.  Keep your fingers crossed that my new best friend will indeed be loyal and not sell the thing the minute before I get there.

That leaves me to sort out the carpet situation.  Tricky one. There are red, classically patterned carpets to be had everywhere, plus the usual “modern” ones that delight – not – with their absurd choice of colors (purple, orange and beige with black stripes anybody?) and  patterns.  Bleaching and dying a carpet seems to be a rather intimidating process with little chance of success – or so I read online.  And since I am not much into knitting and crocheting carpets that whole carpet situation is still somewhat up in the air.  The closest I have come to a cheap solution is a piece of artificial lawn.  I hear they come in different colors – but not in hot pink – and somehow the idea of a hot pink piece of artificial lawn as a carpet with all the white and grey sounds enticing.

I am sure you agree, right?

Camp

So this morning in the daily local newspaper I found out about a three hour camp that is offered for free for kid’s my son’s age.  Since I am terribly behind on work and painting and finding furniture and about a billion other things I thought “cool, I’ll take him there.”

Fortunately, my little geek only sweats the small stuff but is cool with big changes and has never met a person he did not want to talk to.  So I dropped him off  no problem and picked him up three hours and two painted walls later and was given the whole story about their activities.

Turns out not only where they allowed to shoot nuts at each other with badminton rackets, they were also allowed to climb up trees and to bike around.  Geek-boy was incredulous – none of this would have ever been allowed at his after-school and camp, in fact pretty much everything, including picking up wooden sticks of finger length was considered too dangerous and hence was strictly forbidden. SO he couldn’t believe his luck.”

“Mom, we shot nuts at each other and it really hurt.”

“okay”

“They let us do this”

“oh, okay.”

“the teachers didn’t prohibit it, we just had to stand behind a line to shoot at each other, so we couldn’t stand like right in front of somebody and hit him with one of those nut-thingies.  And we could climb up the trees and make monkey sounds …”

You don’t want to hear the rest, trust me.

He loved it and I am happy for him to be able for once to not have to behave like an angle and not being told that finger-length and width sticks are dangerous weapons.  Nobody got hurt and to the best on my knowledge nobody got sued either.

 

 

Just over a week to go

It is Friday, we’ll leave next Saturday so I have one full day of each day of the week left.  And I am right now focusing on not freaking out.

There is all the stuff that still needs to get done but that list is getting shorter.  It paid – once again – to be an anal German and start going through drawers weeks, if not months ago.  What gets longer virtually by the minute is the things I’d like to do: drive up to San Francisco one more time, see the Pacific one more time, meet tons of people for one last coffee/lunch/dinner, have sushi one more time, get a pedicure one last time – these are the more or less realistic hopes and wishes.  But then there are the unrealistic ones: If I could only see Yosemite one more time, go gold panning in the Sierra, hike Point Reyes, see giant Sequoias … followed by the entirely irrational notion that “if we leave tonight we can hike the 6 mile loop at Point Reyes which runs along the Pacific for a bit tomorrow morning and then hop in the car, drive to the Sierra for one last ….”

Oh to be in the Sierra one more time!
(c) Tina B

I am too much of a realist to engage in such thought for long.  It is, of course, ridiculous and we will be spending the weekend cleaning out corners that haven’t been wiped in ages and washing down shelves that have been liberated from books.  I will even contain myself and not go to a garage sale and I will finally make a run to Goodwill.

I am not going to some scary, unknown place. One can arguable claim that I am going home or at least I am going to what used to be home.  I don’t have the reason or right – so to speak – to freak out over this.  Now, if we were moving to Mongolia or the Chad or some other such place that no person I know has ever set foot in – then, yes, then I could freak out.  But Germany?  Home?

But maybe I am going to a strange, weird place.  I am going somewhere that I think I know – and to a some degree do know – but Germany isn’t the Germany I left 17 years ago.  It has changed, too, and though I have seen some of this during summer vacations there is a difference between summer vacations and the real thing.

How will my expectations and past experiences clash with reality?

Well, I guess I am about to find out!

 

Packing

Packing is a b… under the best of circumstances but packing for a 1-year absence is a different ballgame altogether.  Between the three of us we have 4 suitcases (thanks to my Gold status I get to take a second, which – I was told from the beginning – I was not to consider my second suitcase but the family suitcase) 50 lbs each plus the usual carry-on.  So 200 lbs of luggage minus weight of suitcases to haul a year’s worth of stuff – that focuses the mind – or at least one should think.

Packing focuses the mind: the magic number is 50 lbs right now.
(c) Tina Baumgartner

My first instinct was to pack some favorite memorabilia, lots of clothing so we don’t have to buy anything there plus  all the important business cards I need for my job, jewelry, documents, paper work – until I noticed (and, really, I should have known this before and somehow did but repressed the knowledge) that a) paper is heavy, b) shoes are heavy and c) winter clothing is – you guessed it – heavy.  Since any additional suitcase costs $200 to ship the tasks has changed now from: let’s take as much as we can so we don’t have to get it here to “is it cheaper to buy a pair of jeans for my son here and take it or cheaper to buy it here?”  Now everything I put on the “take with” pile is second guessed, weighed in my hands, critically compared to other stuff of similar weight: wool sweater vs. 2 pairs of sandals?  The poster I wanted to take for decorating the apartment vs. Mexican and Japanese spices I am not sure I can get there? Business cards vs. documents?

Once you start paring the list down you start wondering whether it is worth taking anything.  If only very special things get to go, what makes something special?  Some things are easy, I know my son will not leave without his bear, he is 10 but he loves that raggedy old thing that he had since his first day.  My husband will not travel without at least two computers and a spare monitor but will probably think three t-shirts are plenty.  And I, I don’t know what is important anymore.  I know I need a computer, and a few business suits, my camera and iPhone but in addition to that everything else is in a grey zone – important? yes, but that important? Important enough to claim one of the “by invitation only, limited edition” spaces in my suitcase?

I am sure I’ll figure it out – and if not, I can always get a pair of shoes or a sweater – but it is weird to have to make these decisions and oscillating between “I have to bring this else life isn’t worth living” to “nah, it does not make the final 50lbs after all” and the ultimate: “am I willing to spend $200 for a fifth suitcase to take this?”

One thing is for certain, packing suitcases and packing up part of the house is certainly an exercise that should be undertaken more frequently.  There is so much stuff  that just accumulates and never gets dealt with and now we are forced to do it.  Besides the superficial clutter of piles of sweaters and socks lying around getting ready to be packed up the house hasn’t looked so clean and airy in a long time!