Our New Place

Welcome to the Westend Village in Hamburg, our home for the next 12 months. 

(If only our stuff would leave the Port of Oakland so we could truly enjoy it!) 

The complex is a mix of residential and commercial, including one office building for Larry's new company (his office is in another building, about a 10-minute walk from here). 

The brick buildings you see below are the bulk of the 12 houses, and were renovated into loft spaces from an old tobacco factory.

Thankfully there are a lot of big windows in our place because--though you can't see it in these pictures--there are only three light fixtures in the entire apartment. Everywhere else there are just wires where lights would go. Apparently it's not just here in our renovated apartment complex. It's a thing. 

Sigh. 

The view out into the complex from the front door of Haus 2.

The lawn/park area out front features an oversized chess set, small pond, and pool.

A view of Haus 2.

And this is us!

This is the wide, long front entry hall. A light fixture would actually prove really useful here!

Here's a view into the bedroom...

...which has a spacious walk-in closet behind that deceptively small folding door

The master bath is nearly the same size as the bedroom

And there's a half bath in the hallway (thankfully with a light)

At the end of the entrance hall and to the right will be our main living area

And to the left is the kitchen...

...which came with all appliances, and one of the three lights. :)

Visitors welcome, and better photos to come once we're furnished!

Things I Will NOT Miss About San Francisco

Urine. It was the hot topic of conversation as I was leaving, and with good reason. Call it an actual increase or an increase in perception because of the drought, but San Francisco reeked of urine. Especially sad on those days when you saw blue sky and could feel warm sun through the window, then got outside and felt like you were walking through a city-sized urinal. On my last shopping trip in the city I saw a pool of urine on the stairs leading up from the street to the shopping center. Not the kind of memory you want to carry with you.

Burning Man. Late summer is the time of year when I want to scream every time I hear “our camp” or “the playa” because it’s everywhere, all the time. Kudos to the mastermind behind this scheme.

Hipsters. Ugh. Enough already. You’re cool because you’re not cool? You’re ironic and real and in touch and aloof all at the same time? Unpeg your jeans, put on some socks, only wear glasses if your doctor prescribes them, and move on with your lives.

Traffic. Anyone who has had to commute know that it leaves you frustrated and angry and finally dead inside. For the few years I lived in L.A., southern California had the Bay Area beat for ugly traffic. Not anymore. Over the past four years I have watched San Francisco traffic grow noticeably worse. Too bad all of those public transportation systems don’t play better with one another.

Layers. Having to plan a wardrobe change for every microclimate you pass through is tiring. I used to just keep a sweater, a jacket and an extra pair of pants in the back of my car, but as I drove less that became tricky. Hopefully I don’t have to obsess over my weather app and take a backpack of “what-ifs” everywhere I go in Hamburg.

My bitchy neighbor across the street. Yup, calling you out Ms. 819 Florida Street. I have never met someone so narcissistic and the opposite of everything she espouses her neighborhood to be. It makes me sad because I loved being in the Mission—the energy, the murals, the mix of people—and can understand the passion to preserve it. If you took a moment to get to know people instead of assuming they were there to change your way of life, you might have more advocates than enemies. You are not a good person.

Cost of living. If you have lived anywhere other than the Bay Area or LA you know it’s just not normal. Even transplants from other large metropolitan areas (aside from New York) get sticker shock. Seems overdue for another bubble burst. On a related note…

Self-importance of Silicon Valley. I get that the Bay Area is home to incredible innovation and that it drives much of the region’s economy and growth. But there was life before Silicon Valley, and life went on during and after the dot com bust. I feel like a lot of tech immigrants have a myopic view of the world and an inflated sense of their role in it. A little perspective would go a long way, and I’d gladly cede you your bragging rights after you’ve applied your tech to address issues like educational access, institutional racism, sexual slavery, equivocal food distribution, etc.

Things I WILL Miss About San Francisco

Food. Anyone who knows me knows I don’t believe in food as just sustenance. I’d rather die happy with a mouthful of bacon and a handful of fries than live forever on salad. I have a hunch I’m not going to find street tacos and corner-store burritos, but we’ll see what Hamburg can bring in the food-as-an-experience arena. 

Weather. It’s hard to beat year-round ultimate frisbee. Say what you will about weather in the city, but being on the beach in shorts in January (almost) makes up for throwing on a layer (or four) in the summertime. It’ll be interesting to see how the seasons differ in Hamburg. 

(Although sorry SF, I’m definitely looking forward to the prospect of regular rain.)

Views. Let’s face it, the Bay Area gives you views of everything without having to travel too far. Cityscapes, beaches, mountains, farms, grasslands, ocean, bay, you name it. I first visited San Francisco on a business trip a lifetime ago and fell in love with it then. It’s no less magical to me now. In fact, driving over the Bay Bridge for the last time I felt (admittedly sentimental) like I was being carried on the back of some beautiful bird to my home. I hope Hamburg can be half as inspiring.

Craigslist. This is a tool whose importance you don’t realize till it’s gone. In my last week in San Francisco I sold my dishes, my washing machine, a living room chair and gave away a ton of stuff through Craigslist. I also bought a vacuum cleaner for $5 so that when mine was packed away I could still clean my place before I left. Although Craigslist exists for Hamburg, it doesn’t appear to have nearly the same volume of traffic and offerings. 

Friends. The older you get, the harder it is to make friends. Good friends. You become set in your ways and there’s not a lot of reason to put yourself out there if things are working. I’ve met and befriended some incredible people in my 15 years in California. It’s hard to leave that community behind and start over again.

 I added the following after two days in Hamburg:

Smoke-free environment. There are smokers in SF, but FAR fewer than Hamburg. It’s not odd here for several people to be walking down the street smoking, and smoke breaks attract herds rather than isolated groups of people. I’ll have to learn to keep my indignation and exaggerated coughing in check. Sigh.

Getting Settled

It’s my third full day in Hamburg, and aside from moving the refrigerator out of the foyer of our apartment (I don’t know why it’s there, either), I’m not planning to do much today.

Turns out Internet access is really, really helpful if you’re trying to research bus options or, say, order an Uber. Unfortunately the wait here for an Uber means you really have to plan ahead, and when I see a wait time that’s over 20 minutes for someplace that’s within 2 miles, I just walk.

Which is how yesterday I walked over a mile to a pet supply store and lugged home a litter box, bag of kitty litter, and bag of cat food. Then I walked a mile to a supermarket, filled my two large reusable shopping bags and lugged that home.

I spent the next couple of hours fighting the urge to nap (I’d woken up at 2:30 in the morning and never went back to sleep), so I could walk a half mile to pick up a queen-sized inflatable bed and lug that home. While the bed was inflating I ran a bath, and I’m pretty sure I nodded off a few times in the tub before getting out and taking a three-hour nap.

This morning I’m better rested but a bit sore, using my international data plan minutes like a miser, and finishing the mapping out of where our stuff is going to go once it arrives five weeks from now (!).

After some early showers, it rained steadily yesterday evening and through the night, so it’s a bit cooler and overcast today, and I’m feeling perfectly ok with taking it easy and reflecting a bit.

I had quickly compiled these two lists before leaving San Francisco, but have since amended them with a thing or two since my first couple of days here. They’re not ranked, although that may come in a future update:

Things I Will Miss About San Francisco

Things I Will NOT Miss About San Francisco

Trying to Avoid a Cat-astrophe, part 2

If somehow you missed it, be sure to read Part One.

Friday, August 14. At this point we were exactly 10 days out from travel. It was my last day at work, I was dressed in an evening gown (as an office fun activity instigator, this “Fancy Friday” was my last theme at work) but I was feeling less than glamorous as the day wound on.

I googled vet offices near me to see if any listed USDA accreditation in any of their vet bios. Nope. Then I thought about large organizations that might have to deal with this on a regular basis. I called the SPCA and they had one doctor on the other side of the city that was USDA accredited. Then, on a hunch, I called my vet and asked if they had any USDA-accredited veterinarians there.

“All of them are,” the receptionist replied.

Many things (most of them expletives) went through my head. Although I was seething, I explained my situation, and she recognized my name, which only made me madder. I told her in no uncertain terms I needed an appointment right away. She booked us for the next day (Saturday) and I filled out as much of the paperwork as I could and brought it in with the boys. I left the paperwork with the vet to finish filling out and fax to the USDA office as a check against errors. They said they would call me on Monday after they heard back from the USDA.

Monday, August 17. One week till travel. I was already stressed out from getting Larry to the airport in time for his flight (oh, I need to get a prescription filled at Walgreens, oh did I mention I’m flying out of Oakland and not SFO?). The hours dragged on until finally the vet called around 4 pm. I picked up the paperwork and drove by the USDA office on my way home to check their hours. 9 AM to 3 PM. I sent them an email requesting either an appointment or instructions on dropping off the paperwork for their 24-hour turnaround review.

Tuesday, August 18. Moving day. I put up a folding screen so the boys could have the run of the bathroom and the alcove outside it while the movers were there. Hearing a strange noise at one point I looked over to see Aji’s paw curling around the screen and tugging. The screen came crashing inward and as he ran out into the chaos of five movers packing up our house, I thought, great, one cat just killed the other cat with a screen and now he’s escaping and all of this paperwork will have been for nothing.

Thursday, August 19. This was make-or-break day. The USDA had an appointment at 3 PM (um, closing time?) and I took it. If something was wrong with the paperwork, I wanted to be sitting in front of someone when I had my breakdown.

They buzzed me into the office, I handed my paperwork to the receptionist, and sat down nervously. I watched another woman and a man receive their endorsed paperwork, pay their fee, and leave in short order. A million things were running through my mind, backup plans to backup plans in case something went wrong. I didn’t have a lot of options, though, since we had an appointment already scheduled in Hamburg for our visa paperwork.

I heard a ka-chunk noise coming from the office behind me and the USDA official emerged with my paperwork, all endorsed and awaiting my fee. She even paused before going back in her office to say she was glad I was able to get an appointment in time, and she knew how stressful this all could be.

Hallelujah. It was official.

Monday, August 24. Travel day for all three of us. The boys were scheduled to be picked up at 8 AM for their early afternoon Lufthansa flight, and my SAS flight left in the early evening. But by 8:30 I was panicking—had they not booked the travel after all? Was the date wrong? Was there some other issue? I called—the driver was stuck in traffic and almost there. My nerves were clearly on edge.

I cried a little when the boys were gone. Prometheus, 15 and unruffled, had stoically adjusted to a week in the house with no stuff, while Aji, 8 and endlessly curious, had apparently had enough recent changes and ran around the house most of the night, every night, howling.

I hadn’t slept for a week, I had been stressed out for a month, and the easiest thing about the whole process to date had been selling my car. Sometime during the week the movers emailed to let us know there was a delay in the Port of Oakland and our stuff was still waiting there. We probably wouldn’t get it at this point till October 3. What else could go wrong?

Wednesday, August 26. After a 24-hour layover in the Frankfurt Animal Lounge, the boys were due to arrive. Then I got an email midmorning from the transport service asking for copies of our passports. Thankfully I happened to be in Larry’s new office with an Internet connection and emailed those to them. Then in a follow-up message they said customs needed a copy of Larry’s offer letter. After I sent that, I didn’t hear anything else. For hours.

After we finished an appointment to set up a bank account I called the transport office and was told the person I’d been working with was out and I’d need to wait to speak to him. Agony. Where were my boys?

The irony was that we didn’t have an official home yet to bring them to. The landlord wanted confirmation that our wire transfer of the deposit would go through. We had done a walkthrough of the apartment that morning and our bags were in there, but no money, no keys to get back in.

Bank of America was at a loss for what additional paperwork they could provide. In the midst of calls to them and the landlord, the transport service called to say they were outside our apartment with the cats, and where were we?

Everything was happening at once. We grabbed a cab and on the way, Bank of America confirmed that the wire transfer was final. The cab dropped me off at our complex and drove Larry to the landlord’s office to pick up the keys. I consoled the boys outside our building till Larry arrived and we staggered inside.

We were all tired and stressed and the apartment was utterly empty, but we were finally all together again, and this was our new home.

Trying to Avoid a Cat-astrophe, part 1

We debated the options for getting Aji and Prometheus to Germany. The pressure to get Larry there ASAP coupled with his passport and green card issues made the possibility of traveling together unlikely, and then there were the requirements for the cats.

I had seen the regulations on multiple websites and had even gone to the European Union page to clarify some things for myself. In all cases we would need to gather a bunch of paperwork together that would in essence become their “pet passports” to allow them entry into Germany.

Ok. I had a list, and had booked a pet transport company to help me with the booking and confirming, so this should be no problem, right? And even if there was some paperwork glitch, at most that would mean a short quarantine in Europe, right? Oh so wrong.

The first thing I learned was there was no room for paperwork glitches. That would leave my boys banned from even making it on the plane, stuck stateside while I was on my way to Hamburg. Not an option.

The second thing I learned was that it might have been easier to tame a cow and ship it to Germany as a pet. Seriously.

Hurdle number one: Microchips. Although they are indoor all the time, both cats needed them and once I got over my outdated notion that this would involve putting them under, I booked them for an appointment to get this done, along with…

Hurdle number two: Rabies vaccination. The rabies vaccination needed to be done after the microchip implant and at least 21 days before the boys traveled. Not an issue yet since Larry was still working out his passport and green card issues at the time and we didn’t have a travel date set.

Hurdle number three: Physical exam within 10 days of travel by a USDA-accredited veterinarian. No joke. Aside from the fact that I couldn’t set a travel date until Larry’s situation was settled (and it had to be after the 21-day rabies waiting period), where was I going to find a USDA-accredited vet?

I remembered our veterinarian mentioned they worked with a USDA vet out near the airport. I got the number from them and called. The voicemail message said you’d have better luck sending them an email. I did that. Around this time my pet transport service started to apply the pressure on my vet for the 10-day exam appointment. My vet responded by emailing the USDA office to see if I had an appointment with them.

Now I was thoroughly confused because the email I got back from the USDA reiterated all the steps I already knew about, but said I didn’t need to bring the cats to the appointment with them. But what about the exam?? I looked back through my growing collection of emails and lists and had a moment of clarity. The USDA office was only involved for…

Hurdle number four: endorsement of the paperwork for travel.

So I needed to find a USDA-accredited vet--not someone in the actual USDA office--to do the exam and fill out the travel certificate and the complicated 8-page health assurance documentation. Since none of this had been clarified by anyone in any of my desperate emails or phone calls of the past week, I decided to turn outside the immediate situation for help.

I emailed the USDA office in Sacramento asking for assistance in finding a USDA-accredited vet to do the exam. I explained the situation and that I had not gotten information from the San Francisco office in this regard. If I had to, I was willing to drive up there with the boys as a walk-in. Here was the response I got:

“The San Francisco office number is 650-876-9358.

Call a local vet office and ask if they have an accredited veterinarian with the USDA.  If so I can verify that they are by their name (not the clinics name).

Send me the name of the vet and I will verify just to make sure.”

Um, so you’re checking the names against a list but you can’t provide me with a list? 

I felt like I was stuck in some absurdist film or, more likely, being spoofed on the modern equivalent of “Candid Camera.” But what else could I do? I got to work.

Next up: Trying to Avoid a Cat-astrophe Part 2

#ShitGettingReal

When this showed up in front of our house, I knew it was official.

In six short weeks my life went from comfortably predictable to unimaginable upheaval. As many lists and spreadsheets as I made, preparing to move overseas in the abstract and the actual moving experience are two very different animals. Yes, it's a lot about preparation, but as you'll see in future posts, it's even more about patience.

Pretty sobering to see your life wrapped up in brown paper.

Driving it home was the fact that our stuff was going into this cargo container and not your typical moving van.

Are We Really Doing This?

Larry’s job searches have always involved international options, so it was no big deal when his hunt earlier this year turned up openings in Malta, Singapore, and Germany. Singapore came knocking first, with a potential job teaching at a university for video games. They seemed an incredible front-runner for a while, then went silent. Germany came knocking but wanted “proof” of Larry’s credentials. Pass.

Then about a month ago, Germany came knocking again.

In the course of a week came long-distance interviews with a company recruiter, guys in the studio, and the studio head. By the end of the week Larry had an offer, and we had a concrete dilemma instead of a pipe dream. Are we ready to give up our 15 years in California and start over in another country?

Our previous big moves always came down to weighing any cons against the chance to face new intellectual/career challenges and explore a new environment. Larry would have the chance to work on a full game with a new team in a studio trying something new (to them), and I would have the chance to focus on my writing.

Although Larry didn’t know German, I had lived in Germany as a child and studied it in high school. Both experiences were a long way in the past, but more useful than starting from scratch. By the end of the weekend we had crunched the numbers, and it looked doable. Larry signed the one-year contract with Goodgame Studios, I gave notice at POST, and then the freaking out began.

Goodgames wanted Larry onsite within 3 weeks. That wasn’t going to be possible for all of us due to the  requirements for the cats (there will be a whole separate blog post on that madness). Thankfully it looked like the prep work would take a while, so Larry’s start date was pushed back to September 1 or whenever they could complete his visa work.

Now we had to deal with the most unfortunate of scenarios involving someone moving abroad—the fact that Larry’s passport had expired and he had managed to lose his green card in our move from one side of San Francisco to the other.

This in itself would have been complicated enough, but we couldn’t book travel for the cats till we knew when Larry would be squared away and in Hamburg, and I wouldn’t book travel for me till after the cats were settled.

Thankfully it didn’t involve a bus trip to Canada and an in-person appointment to renew his passport up there, or his having to give up rights to his green card because he was planning to move abroad, though both scenarios loomed large for a couple of tense weeks.

Instead it worked out at the last minute as these things do, and Larry left early for Hamburg while I stayed to deal with the movers, get the paperwork in order for the cats, and say the few goodbyes I could in the time I had left.

Surely things would be smooth sailing from here, right?