And so it begins

Having finished bribing the realtor (less than he wanted, more than we did), we now begin with the process of getting rid of our own apartment. Like everything else to do with moving in this country: it’s complicated.

The first step is the cancellation. Instead of two weeks’ notice, you can cancel your apartment at the end of the month and can then leave three months later. Before you go, you first have to renovate, depending on how long you’ve lived there that can mean that you simply paint the interior or replace the linoleum in the kitchen… or the toilet if you managed to drop a shelf on it (guilty).

And right now – COMING TO YOU LIVE FROM MY APARTMENT – I’m sitting in the living room while another shady realtor shows my place to prospective new renters. To get ready for this I had to: use cooking oil to mask the scratches in the kitchen tile, corn starch and hair to mask the chip in the bathtub, and Fergus has been banished to the care of my sister-in-law. Just before the landlady arrived to check the apartment, I was on my knees checking for mice and toys under the bed and sofa.

Now I’m sitting on said sofa trying to be as out of the way as possible. In the hall I can hear people asking questions about parking, utilities and will that awful green/brown bathroom be torn out?

I am terribly conscious of the fact that we have three pieces of art hanging on the wall that depict different portions of nude women. That coupled with the fact that I am sitting on a green velvet sofa makes me feel like I’m living in a bordello. Oh and there’s a print of a case of beer hanging in the hallway.

Is the bed made well enough?

I’m so ready to leave this place, so tired of feeling crowded and so ready for a balcony, that I find it weird that anyone should want it. Yet, I’m fighting the urge to take it personally that people are rejecting it.

Do I have to offer this guy a glass of wine too?

This is weird.


Seems as though cheap and central overrules ugly brown and leaf printed tiles in the bathroom and kitchen. The apartment was snapped up after a day on the market. Fergus is a fugitive no more!


4 responses to “And so it begins

  1. Sigh, what I wouldn’t give for a balcony. My fingers are crossed that this will be a quick, painless process for you. It’s the least you deserve after enduring the nightmare of securing your future home!

  2. Thanks, B. Would be so nice if one of these people who saw it last night took the place, then at least I don’t have to continue hiding the kitten around town. Poor guy’s forgetting who his family is… I am so looking forward to being able to sit outside on a balcony at night – this new one is actually big enough for a dinner party. With the weather we have now, I could even hope to be outside laughing about this over cocktails in a few months…

  3. From what I’ve heard about the Munich rental market, you shouldn’t have too much trouble renting. But I’ve never actually been to Munich so what do I know? Good luck anyway!

    And I could never just sit on the sofa. I get all nervous and feel the need to follow the people around in case they notice some flaw or spot that I forgot to clean!

  4. Christina – having just renovated yourself you would die at the sight of the leaf print tile our kitchen, in fact the entire 70’s kitchen would horrify you. This and the lack of the balcony make me think that our Makler will have some challenge in getting rid of the place, but considering the location I am sure he will prevail in the end. And the glass(es) of wine were what made the sitting on the couch tolerable. 🙂