September 28-29

Monday was a HORRIBLE day. German was tedious, the weather had changed, no one had any energy, and I thought poor Herr Muttschall would tear his hair. I hit a depressed funk.

I went home with the intention of going back out to get anmelded but I couldn’t get off the couch once I had sat down. The handyman’s window shades continued in their closed position so I couldn’t get any help for the non-working refrigerator, and when I took Maggie out for a walk it started to rain. We went up to the Volkspark anyway, but there were a Great Dane, two French bulldogs and a Chihuahua in the off-leash area and I wasn’t sure about turning Maggie loose on such an odd assemblage. I could just see her caroming into the Dane and breaking its hip, or having an unintentional game of boules with the bulldogs and Chihuahua. So we just walked for a while, always a good antidote to depression.

Bought a half a roasted chicken on the way home for dinner – oh, they are so good here!

I decided to tackle the depression by making a plan for getting done the things that were most bugging me. The plan was to take Tuesday off from the Goethe Institute, get the fridge problem solved, go to the Bürgeramt to register, then get a bank account and take care of the internet order; do some miscellaneous shopping, as I still need some basics like a broom and hotpads. I had found a bakery with a “free internet here” sign just around the block so that figured into the mix as well. I was feeling very cut off, now living on my own, without email or Hannah’s landline which Sally can call for free so we can all talk.

Tuesday morning, the handyman’s shade is up! Knock on the door, talk with his assistant who informs me they don’t deal with problems like that and I’ll have to call the landlord. I call him and leave a message, then head out to anmeld. There’s a two-hour wait, for which I was prepared with my NYT crossword puzzle book. Got the stamp, but can’t register the dog at the same office; will require a cross-town trek to a different department. Went to the bank and had a pleasant experience opening my account but came out in a rainstorm and decided to forego the internet order and just go home. I took a side street I was sure would put me out at my main drag, but no, it took me way off somewhere with no cross streets, so I couldn’t even exit it. Finally ended up at an S-Bahn station, took the train back to where I started, went to the U-Bahn stop where I can get the tram up to my street. But I got turned around in the underground and came up kitty-corner across a huge platz from where the tram stops and decided it was probably shorter just to walk home at that point. Then it REALLY started to pour and by the time I got home I was as wet as I’ve ever been – raincoat soaked through, shoes squishing puddles, pant knees sopping.

And now I’m at the internet bakery and either their network is not working or my laptop can't interface with their system. Another day without my internet connections, and I didn’t even get it ordered yet. And I haven’t heard from the landlord about my fridge. I will continue with the bananas and peanut butter, I guess.

In spite of all this, it was nice to take a day off from school. That really batters my brain for 5 hours a day. In hindsight, a two- or three-day-a-week program would have suited my needs just fine. I think I chose the Goethe Institute because of its starting dates. 

Mühsings – Sunday, September 27

Maggie and I walked around our new area yesterday for a bit – between Ikea headaches – and discovered a chicken roaster (my favorite!), a bakery (my favorite!), a little park (Maggie’s favorite!) and various cafes and restaurants; even a little art supply store. The Evangelical church nearby has pleasant bells and looks as though it is a concert venue, although the sign only posted summer concerts through September 19.

Today we had a VERY leisurely day. I pulled some weeds in my back weed patch (found the nettles) and discovered that there’s a pear tree just over my back wall. Also an owl, and a pussycat. No pea-green boat, but it’s the first cat I’ve seen in Berlin and I’ve already been here a month. And maybe it’s not an owl. It hooted all day long. I found a snail shell in spite of my efforts to avoid that particular metaphor when thinking about my situation; and a very oddly shaped black rock with a whitish coating, that looks more like a piece of whale vertebra than a rock. Can’t imagine what it is.

After these riveting discoveries I went to the flea market and bought a round, red carved wood-framed mirror (my new couch is red), which I probably won’t even be able to hang because of my solid masonry walls, and then walked the dog to the Friedrichshain Volkspark, where we happily found an off-leash dog play area. Maggie did her bit to uphold the image of the clumsy, stupid American, ricocheting off people, dogs, fencing, and trees with a look of mad glee. This dog needed to run. She had a WONDERFUL time. I’m not so sure about the other dogs.

Got the stink-eye again today! And a lecture to go with it, although I couldn’t understand it and completely ignored the woman who was scolding me for crossing against the light on the way home from the park. Sometimes it’s nice to be uncomprehending. There was not a car in sight for a mile in any direction. Wish I knew how to say “Get a life” in German, but it’s probably more satisfying in the long run just not to have acknowledged the diatribe at all.

I have lovely radiant heat in my floors. Very cozy on this chilly evening.

I am exhausted. It is 7 p.m. and I’m already eyeing my sofa-bed with a deep desire to lie down and see what happens.

Mühsamstrasse Lives up to its Name

I completed the move to Mühsamstrasse on Saturday, and mühsam it was. After Wednesday and Thursday afternoons at Ikea (30 minutes by subway plus an 8-block walk) Friday was my day for assembling things, at least my sofa-bed so I could sleep here starting Friday night and avoid yet one more first-thing-in-the-morning encounter with the stairs at Hannah’s just to let the dog out. Such are my priorities.

As I did not want to spend any more days shopping than absolutely necessary, I got as much as I could at Ikea on Thursday – sofa bed, under-bed storage box, mattress, couch cover, pillow, sheets, armchair, footstool, wardrobe, pots, silverware, knives, cutting boards, mixing bowls, coffee press, dish rack, 2 cabinets and some storage bins for Hannah. And yes, it’s STILL cheaper than renting a furnished flat, and everything is new and clean. No questions asked. But it was bulky, heavy stuff and I had to go through the store twice.

Because I also took a large bookcase off Hannah’s hands and purchased a table at a thrift store, I needed a different kind of delivery service than Ikea offers, which is priced according to how much you spend. I thought about renting a van, and even recruited some of the young men in my German class to help, until one of them mentioned having seen “Möbil Taxi” trucks around the city. These are freelancers with trucks parked out front of various stores, who deliver furniture for a flat fee, based on where you live, and will make as many stops as you need; you just pay per stop.

After I found a guy who spoke English I hired one of these outfits in the Ikea parking lot, and made my first pass through the store. (Got the stink-eye from the cashier for not having my barcodes all neatly lined up.) I stashed my stuff with the truckers until I came out with the second batch (got the stink-eye from the guy ahead of me in line, whom I ran into with my wardrobe box because I couldn’t see the front of my cart) and then hopped in the truck and took off with two strange men. Imagine my mother doing this! The driver could speak English and he informed me that he was in Berlin because he was in trouble with one of the four construction companies he works for in Poland. I didn’t ask for details.

Friday after school I loaded up my suitcases and miscellany from Hannah’s (except for the dog and her bed), called a taxi (avoiding 6 round trips by myself on the tram), and arrived to begin my assembling. Started with the thrift-store table to get it out of the way and so I’d have a work surface. Easy as pie. Started next on the Ikea footstool. One hole wasn’t drilled deep enough to accept the final piece of hardware. Maybe the building super will have a drill. I’m NOT going back to Ikea. Put that aside and moved on to the critical piece, the sofa-bed. Missing four bolts. Another night spent at Hannah’s, another missed tram and walk back to Boxhagenerstrasse, another morning greeting the %#$% stairs with the dog at 6:30. Good thing I didn’t move the dog bed.

Saturday I returned – this time with the dog and all her belongings, by tram – and started putting together the wardrobe until I could muster the energy to head to the hardware store for the bolts for the bed (1 tram, 1 subway and a four-block walk). Died and went to Ikea hell for a while trying to figure out the directions, but the solution came to me, as so many do, as I lay on the floor in a puddle of tears.

To finish the job I needed a hammer and a bigger screwdriver than the little interchangeable one I brought with me, which was beginning to inflict stigmata on my palms. I went to the apartment I thought was the building super’s, only to find quite a lovely young woman tenant instead, who willingly lent me some tools and came back with me to see if she could figure out why the refrigerator doesn’t work. No clue. But she did know that the building “super” keeps an office around the corner, and does not work on weekends, although the estate agent told me he lived here. He’s not even a super, more of a for-hire handyman who keeps the grounds clean. A few days without refrigeration. I can live on bread, peanut butter and bananas until Monday.

Then I negotiated the huge Home-Depot-type hardware store, got my bolts and a lamp for the kitchen so I could cook dinner. (People take their light fixtures with them when they move; and their medicine chests, toilet paper holders, and towel rods. I’m not kidding. They strip the places clean.) Got another stink-eye from a grumpy cashier for being slow on the uptake when she asked me if I needed a bag for my items (you have to buy bags here), and realized I hadn’t eaten lunch. It was 5:00.

There’s a nice little grocery store just a half block from my place so I stopped on the way home for some provisions; Hannah came for dinner and to finish the furniture for me, as my back had given out. So now I’m done. Except that I forgot to buy salt and the store is closed on Sunday. Oh well, I don’t need salt for peanut butter and bananas, anyway.