This is what people generally envision when thinking of what a kitchen might look like in their new apartment: cabinets, at least some counter space and somewhere to cook. To many, this might not be considered a 'luxury' kitchen, but to us renters in Germany, anything above and beyond an empty room is a luxury.

I'm not sure where the concept of the Einbauküche, or 'fitted kitchen', being entirely optional and downright rare for rented apartments came about, but it is the most ridiculous concept ever created (note: this is not the first, nor will it be the last time I rant about this subject). Renters are supposed to buy and install an entire kitchen - as in, cabinets, countertops, sink, appliances, the whole deal - each time they rent a new apartment. Because let's face it, how many kitchens are exactly the same layout and amount of space? Therefore, how likely is it that the kitchen you invest thousands of euros into is going to come along with you to your next place of residence? Exactly. For practical Germans, this is one of the few areas that they have left me completely stumped.

So as we delve into our Berlin apartment search, here's what we might expect to find in a 'kitchen'...

Even this 'unfitted' kitchen is pretty luxury in terms of space and designer accent tile. The average German kitchen tends to look something more like this:

Clinical-looking and boring. From what we've been told, Berlin apartments are now required to be outfitted with a stove and a sink, at the very least. But if this is what that is going to look like...

Well, you see where I'm going with this. I think I'd rather start from scratch, buying the appliances and sink and counter space that work for my needs. But the idea of being able to make my kitchen whatever I want it to be is also financially daunting, especially as expensive as it is just to move in this country: hefty deposits, hefty rental agent fees, that truck that will get our belongings all the way across the country. Any decent-looking installed kitchen, even from budget-conscious Ikea, is going to require a significant chunk from our moving budget. So what to do? There is Ikea's standalone kitchen furniture, which could be easily be moved from apartment to apartment, but I admittedly had a bias against it for not being 'serious' enough... that is, until I saw what Anna over at Door Sixteen did in her house in New York:

Uh, stunning, right? A far cry from the janky, 20-something's studio I envisioned those Ikea pieces belonging in. Not to mention those stools and that salvaged table she refinished and amazing tile walls she did BY HERSELF. Okay, I think her significant other probably helped, but still (I am not worthy!). Seriously though, she made pieces that many people might not even consider for their rented apartment, let alone their home, look seriously stylish. I am already leaning towards one of those empty rooms for a kitchen so I can create my own version of this hip space.

The real downside here is that we already had to buy a stove/cooktop and dishwasher when the ancient ones left behind we bought from the previous tenants (hey, they were already installed and we were moving halfway around the world - seemed like a good idea at the time...) quit working properly soon after we moved in. So a portable kitchen such as this would mean ditching them - or at least trying to sell them to the next tenants of our current apartment - and buying new again. Save on the cabinets, spend on the appliances. *sigh...* So much to consider...

It's almost enough just to raise the white flag and declare 'Einbauküche only'! We could luck out with something as decent as one of these:
 

And then that's one less thing to stress about for our move. Frankly, anything is better than the decades-old Ikea kitchen we have now, complete with grid design in the cabinet glass and mold growing rampant in the wood counter tops. I guess we shall see what apartments we find and which landlords deem us, and our sub-par German, worthy of renting a highly covetable Berlin apartment to...

All images, except the one from Anna of Door Sixteen, are from Berlin apartment listings on null-provision.de and immobilienscout24.de

he first thought I had when I saw this weather forecast for the weekend, after a week of rain, mind you, was: I am going to the park on Sunday, taking off my top and laying in the sun. After three years here, I can finally understand the desperation that sets in after months of wondering if the sun has in fact burned up and now ceases to exist. That appalled shock I used to feel when stumbling upon German women casually soaking up the springtime park sun in their white, lacy bras - which is not because I'm a prude mind you, topless beaches are OK by me - has turned more into an intense desire to take my own clothes off the minute the sun graces us with its presence. Take the time to go home and change into the more 'appropriate' bikini top and it could be dark and stormy by the time you return. It's also inspiring to see Germans, the wonderfully anal planners and rule-followers that they are, do something so spontaneous just because it feels so damned good.

So until the cursed rain stops and the sun shows its face this weekend, I will be tucked away indoors, nursing a serious case of SAD, and now unfortunately, also a bit of cold/flu. But as soon as that sun shows its glorious face and the temperatures reach 20C, I'll be running to the nearest patch of green, throwing down a blanket and soaking in the vitamin D with the rest of the Germans - bikini top or not.



Daily Drop Cap by Jessica Hische

If you're in the mood for a little 'hot love'...

rocery trips are often some of the first cultural shock experiences an expat will have. Even after a few years of settling in, I can still be surprised when perusing the aisles. Whether it's amusing/downright incorrect use of English ('jetzt mit Happy End!' is common - do they know what this means auf Englisch??) or just surprising tunes coming over the speakers (like the time "I Just Had Sex" was blaring throughout Karstadt in all it's unedited, x-rated glory), it's easy to find entertainment in the little things.   

Perhaps it was the result of being cooped up all last week with the flu, but our grocery shop this weekend was one such trip. So I bring you a few gems from our grocery, such as:

The perfect Easter beer,

oh-so-American hot dog and burger-specific sauces (wait, other than ketchup and mustard?),

the best packaging design I've seen on a German product yet (which are notoriously boring, dated, or just wrong),

and a condom energy drink (um,...????). 

Ah, Germany...

Daily Drop Cap by Jessica Hische

Our first Rosenmontag parade in 2011

ast time we took part in the Rosenmontag festivities in Mainz, we had a lovely perch on a friend's rooftop deck directly over the parade route, not to mention being nearly a month later than it was this year, it was amazingly warm and sunny. This year, we headed across the river to brave the crowds on the ground in the freezing February weather for the first time. Since we had previously donned the giraffes only in apartments and on brief train rides, we had yet to experience any reaction to these costumes beyond our circle of friends.

Riding the buses and trains in Wiesbaden on Rosenmontag is always interesting, since the festivities are in Mainz, because those in costume are few and far between. Those that are usually only have a sparkly hat or colorful outfit, perhaps in an effort to avoid the abundant and somewhat judge-y German stares from what is often considered the 'uptight' side of the river. Sometimes I just want to scream at them "yes, I know it's Monday morning and you're dressed in your work clothes and I'm dressed as a safari animal but I'm going to party at the Rosenmontag parade, so back off!" Once over in Mainz, the the German stares dissipate and are replaced with smiles, waves, and once everyone is drunk enough to lose their German inhibitions, even hugs.

We might not have been the only giraffes, but we seemed to be the most popular

Once deep into the festivities, we started to see how popular our costumes were. At first, I would just catch someone pausing with a camera pointed in our direction, but once the first person came up and asked if they could take our picture - or the ones I most enjoyed, where they wanted their photo with us - it was like it opened the floodgates for all the other Germans too reserved to ask. I started to feel like a Disneyland character, posing for photos every time we turned around, and wondered if kids would start asking for autographs soon. I'm pretty sure our photo is going to be spattered all over the internet in connection with this year's parade. It seems we could hardly go a block without someone calling out for us "giraffe! giraffen!", or just overhearing someone pointing us out to a friend after we had gone past. One lone giraffe actually called out "Mama! Papa!" to us. Amidst a sea of Germans, with whom we rarely feel a sense of belonging, we felt as if we had hundreds of new, accepting friends.

It wasn't just the fellow costumed adults that took a shine to the giraffes. One old lady stopped us to ask for a photo and said we were her favorite costume that she had seen. Little kids often stared after their parents pointed us out, only to break their intense German stare once we smiled and waved, letting them know that we were friendly animals. One such very small guy in the cutest lion costume, stared at us for a good five minutes on the train platform, even after I'd smiled and waved. He just didn't know what to make of us. Finally, something in him let go, because he pulled the little lion-clawed arms of his suit down over his hands, curled them up, scrunched up his face and started growling at us. Perhaps he had figured out that as a lion, he was at the top of the animal kingdom, or perhaps he just wanted my giant cotton candy.

How these guys didn't freeze their, well.. important parts off, I'll never know!

Being on the ground this year meant being right in the middle of all the action. We could stand parade side and reach out for all the treats that were being thrown from the floats into the crowd. It also meant that in -1C weather, we were freezing our giraffe tails off. The music at least made it acceptable to bounce and jump around to keep warm, but even under four layers on top, two layers on bottom, snow boots, hat and gloves, I was so numb I could barely move. This meant that when the circus float with a giant giraffe on the top rolled by and the woman in front noticed me and chucked a giant candy bar/roll of cookies right to me, my popsicle of a hand could only reach into the air, to which the treat meant for me bounced off my numb, unclosing fingers and into the crowd for someone else to claim. What a sad Karneval failure.

Being on the ground this year meant more than frozen toes and being at the mercy of increasingly drunken people who wanted to manhandle our giraffe heads, it also meant we could take part in gathering loads of goodies thrown from the floats. As stated previously, I did not contribute greatly to our haul with my slow-moving, frozen limbs, but we came away pretty good nonetheless. And I didn't even have to show my boobs like they do in New Orleans.

The highlight of the parade are the humorous political floats. Not entirely up to speed on all things going on over here, some of it can be a bit beyond my breadth of German political knowledge, but I saw enough that gave me a good chuckle. My favorites included the one poking fun at the ever-extending deadline for the new Berlin airport opening and the one about greedy America and who is really pumping up that economy. Germans making fun of what could be potentially sensitive topics to this level never ceases to surprise me. For a culture often labeled as having little to no sense of humor, I think they hit the nail on the head with these floats, whereas I could see such political humor upsetting a lot of Americans. Jon Stewart aside, politics in America seems to be such a hot button topic and is often avoided to keep the peace. Well it's good to know Germans have a sense of humor about their politics, although only at the appropriate time and place, of course. 

Wait for it...

The rest of the floats and paraders were often just as impressive, but after an hour or so, the growing rowdiness of the crowd and our already full bag of treats - not to mention my numb feet and hands that were beginning to expand to the rest of my body - signaled that maybe it was time to head out. We made our way slowly through more hugging and photo-taking to what we hoped would be a warm stop for some food at our favorite Mexican restaurant - only to discover that they are not in fact open every day, all day. So we dragged our freezing giraffe butts back to the trail station, picking up a warm crepe and Glühwein on the way and awaited our ride home. As cold as it was, we were thankful that the grey skies that day were not filled with the sleet of the week before, but rather the confetti from all the festivities. Karneval, we may have to come back to celebrate again with you next year! 

Kind of wished they had been throwing fresh pretzels

Daily Drop Cap by Jessica Hische

The sea, the sun & Gaudi.... paradise

ack in November, fresh off my husband's new work-from-home status and looking at two weeks of vacation booked nearly a year ago with nowhere to go, we figured we'd use the time to check out some places that topped our dream list for cities to live in. For a long while, we just floundered whenever the idea of moving came up. We now have pretty much all of Europe to choose from (and maybe even a bit of Northern Africa) with his new job status. How could one possibly narrow down all the choices?

Churros (from Xurreria), flavored chocolate (my favorite is the mint) and the best coffee I've ever had (at La Granja, a few doors down)

Well, we figured we would start with what we know. Our belated honeymoon trip a few years back took us to Barcelona and we absolutely loved it. The sea, the chocolate and churros, the culture... I always think about the cultural differences between the Spanish and the Germans in terms of shoe shopping (no surprise to those who know me, I'm sure). My shoe size is rather large, even by German standards, apparently, and very hard to find. Coming from America, where you can get anything at anytime - and possibly at a discount if you complain loud enough - the shoe finding missions I've been on in Europe have been eye-opening and mostly disappointing.

My first shoe shopping experience in Germany was indicative of the service we would receive here, in pretty much any retail situation, in the years that followed. Lucky for me, I was with my German friend and she did the communicating. The conversation went something like this:

"Do you have this shoe in a 42" [e-gads, huge, right?]
"No we do not."
"Can it be ordered?"
"No. Only shoes from the new, full-priced collection can be ordered."
(She relayed this information to me and I say maybe I should just try the 41 to see)
"Do you have it in size 41?"
(checks computer) "Yes."
"Can my friend try that one on?"
"Sure."

Ahh, Germans and their directness. No offering up of any alternatives, no tips for what is obviously a hard-to-come-by size. Just answering what's asked of them and no more. It's no wonder why most Americans find them rude.

In Spain, my experience was polar opposite. I went into a shoe shop with my husband (who speaks Spanish) and offered up my choice for her to see and said a timid and questioning "cuarenta y dos?", one of the few Spanish words I knew - my shoe size. She exchanged a few words with my husband in Spanish, and after seeing him relay that they didn't have this size to me in English - and my resulting disappointment - she took my arm and held it as a mother might, saying in a very saddened tone "your size, it's complicated...".  After experiences that ranged from typical German bluntness to downright flabbergasted expressions and incredulously repeating my shoe size back to me as a question, I wanted to hug this Spanish stranger. She got it. It's complicated.

This warmth and friendliness isn't the only thing we love about the Spanish culture. Their passion, their value of time off and enjoying life - hello? daily siesta! - put them on the other end of the spectrum from Germans, culturally-speaking. It was nice to vacation in this land where perfect strangers would console you with both a physical and emotional closeness most Germans reserve for behind closed doors, but could we live here..?

One night we went from cava bar (El Rincón del Cava) on one side of the city...

... to absinthe bar (Bar Marsella) on the other

For our nearly week-long, budget trip to Barcelona, we took our first (and last) Ryanair flight (I'll let you draw your own conclusions there) and booked an affordable Airbnb apartment in the Poblenou neighborhood right by the sea. Since we'd already seen the sights and we just wanted to get a feel for life in this city, we spent the bulk of our time just wandering around. We walked through neighborhoods we had heard were desirable to live - including our beautiful spot where we could hear the waves crashing from our apartment - and even met with expat Jessica, blogger at ¡Hola Yessica!, to talk Barcelona living. She walked us through what some consider the scary part of the city (the Raval), where we felt safer than we did in the Tenderloin, and let's face it, parts of the Mission in SF, and we were able to treat her to her first Michelada, one of my favorite drinks made of Mexican beer, lime juice and hot sauce, at the loveliest outdoor bar she took us to.

One of our new friends, met through a mutual love of Warby Parker glasses

(me in my Zaggs, he in the Beckett)

We went to a cheap (€4 a bottle!) and lively cava bar on the other side of the city, we picnicked in the warm November sunshine at Park Güell with what Mark Bittman, food writer for the NYT, declares the best sandwich in the world (it isn't, our ham and cheese from De Kaaskamer in Amsterdam was the best we've ever eaten), we drank fresh fruit cocktails at a beach bar (in Novemeber!), we closed down the famous absinthe bar Marsella at 3a.m. with some new American friends we met because I recognized the Warby Parkers one of them was wearing (what a small world!), and we spent a very late morning (ahem, afternoon) nursing our hangovers from the previous night's (ahem, that morning's) bar hopping with knock-off Cheetos and Donettes overlooking the Mediterranean. Certainly not a bad life here in Barcelona!

Knowing that we were still falling prey to the whole 'vacation mentality', we wanted to wrap our heads around the harsh realities of Barcelona life. So we sat down on our last evening there and made a pro/con list.

PROS:

The food

A caramelized goat cheese salad with pears and croutons at Petra

Coming from San Francisco, this is a big one for us. We love good food and we love diverse food. German food is pretty much one note and the lack of options can be downright depressing. We have pretty good food at home, but we have yet to have a truly astounding culinary experience there. Sometimes we really crave those fresh, creative options that big city dining is known for - and Barcelona does not disappoint. Not only are we talking traditional Spanish tapas, but any number of gourmet options as well. We even passed a restaurant - yes, a sit-down, whole restaurant, not a cafe - dedicated solely to a couple several-course dessert menus (I'm still sad that we didn't go in)! Our favorite, Santa Maria, started by one of the guys from the once best-restaurant-in-the-world and now defunct El Bulli and site of my birthday dinner three years ago, was unfortunately closed while we were there, but we were not short on other options.

Also at Petra, roast beef with pumpkin puree

Even just the everyday food was pleasantly surprising. So many little things we found there that we lack in Wiesbaden (Haagen-Dazs flavors, Doritos tortilla chips, delicious Spanish beers - because Germans think the only beer worth drinking is their own) were there in abundance, not to mention produce galore! It felt like we were back in California where one was not bound to months of only what was in season (Spargelzeit? yeah, I'll pass on that one), but all kinds of fruits and veg were at any one of the ubiquitous produce shops that populate the city, and all beautiful, fresh and delicious. I still have yet to find a decent apple at a grocery in Germany (known for its love of all things apple!). The first and only little neighborhood pizza place we got take-out from was ten times better than any pizza I've had in Germany. My tummy is pining to get back there already...

Produce shops like this were on nearly every corner

A delicious Fuji the size of a small child's head - now we're talking!

Art, architecture & creativity

One of the countless ornate facades of Barcelona

It seemed like everywhere we looked, there was a beautiful building, beautiful Gaudis and even beautiful graffiti. This was such a welcome change from the German ideas against frivolity. That artistic and free vibe - with a little more creativity and a little less hippy feel - was all around.

Even graffiti was art, not just tagging

... or it had something to say

The language

It might sound crazy that having to learn not just one, but two entirely new languages sounded appealing, but it did. Not only do Spanish and Catalan sound unbelievably beautiful, but I honestly felt like I understood more of what I read and what was being said than I often do in Germany (which is a sad admission about the state of my German competency, but nonetheless..). Catalan is so close to French, I found I could understand things even my Spanish-speaking husband couldn't. It all just seemed so much more accessible. German will now and forever be 'The Awful German Language' and I'm quite certain I will never master it, whether we stay in Germany or not.

The sea (not to mention palm trees and sunshine)

Ahh, the Med...

Pretty self-explanitory, right?

Can't beat tropical palm trees & warm sunshine in November

City life

While one of the main ways we appreciate this is in the cuisine, there are many positive ways this manifests itself - concerts, museums, cultural events, shopping. There's always something going on, someone new to meet (see above for our new friends from Brooklyn) and a new hot spot to try out - and a metro to get you there at almost any hour of the day. We waited no more than five minutes for a train at nearly 4a.m. after a night out, whereas going out where we live now means carefully watching the clock so we can get a train home by midnight, lest we be stranded across the river overnight. Wiesbaden is basically akin to the American suburbs, choc full of families, old people and decent, if not rather boring restaurants. Don't get me wrong, it's wonderful, but for people like us, it leaves a little something to be desired - things a big city has in spades.


CONS:

City life

The door of our apartment, with no fewer than five major locks. Hmm...

For every great opportunity city life offers, there are downfalls as well. It's dirtier, noisier and way more crowded (not to mention the constant throngs of tourists). Apartments are more expensive and we would have to downsize our life, significantly. We've been told a few times that there is next to no violent crime in Barcelona, but the fortress-like door of the apartment where we stayed told another story...

We also have to wonder what city life would be like in Spain, a country who's economy is in a state of collapse also give us a moments pause. What could happen to city services, tax rates - or worse, our health care? Yikes.

Dogs are everywhere - but are allowed nowhere

At a grocery, understandable. But at a cafe..?

We were worried about making Bailey even more of a city dog than she's already become, but we were pleasantly surprised to see dogs literally running wild (not wild dogs, but people's pets, off-leash, roaming around yet behaving) in the neighborhood where we stayed. It seems the Spanish loved dogs even more than the Germans - that is, until we started seeing the 'no dogs allowed' signs. They were everywhere. Not only at groceries like in Germany, but every shop, restaurant, cafe, the beach, public lawns, the metro... how was your dog supposed to be a part of your life if she wasn't allowed anywhere? How could we get her to a vet if we couldn't even take her on the subway? Most Spanish ignore the beach rules in the winter (or frankly, most of the rules most of the time), but come summer, Bailey would expected to be sidewalk- and home-bound. How sad.

Lack of green spaces

Admittedly, the trees along the Rambla de Poblenou are very nice

Germans LOVE their parks. Even in big cities, it seems like a premium is put on accessibility to parks and forests and just land. But Park Güell is about as green as it gets in Barcelona. We would see all kinds of little green squares on the city maps and excitedly head there to see what Bailey would think of it... only to find a concrete plaza with a couple of trees planted around the perimeter. That qualifies as a green space? Sure, there's the sea, but being surrounded with so much concrete, I think parks - true parks, where you can lost in the trees and frolic on never-ending grass - are a necessary respite within the city.


We are left with still so much to think about, but the realities of life in Barcelona is something we are taking very seriously. Moving across two countries and the cost of doing so, not to mention taking on a whole new language - two new languages for me! - and culture with its own set of red tape for expats, requires some serious thought. So whether or not we return one day to Barcelona as residents or just as visitors, we will most definitely be back!

That's right - sunglasses in November! Unheard of where we live.

(granted, that day was mostly due to a hangover)

Next up: Could we live here trip, Berlin style!

Daily Drop Cap by Jessica Hische