The actual, physical, moving part went surprisingly well, considering I'd inexplicably gained an extra suitcase of luggage during my first five months. No matter; I am by now well practiced in the fine art of standing looking helpless in an airport with my cases, and again once on the plane as I clog up the aisle, too weak to lift my definitely-over-the-permitted-weight hand luggage into the locker and steadfastly ignoring the glares of hatred from other more competent passengers, until some kind stranger takes pity. I even made it to my temporary accommodation relatively unscathed, and used the weekend to embark on my flat hunt. I think some part of me was vaguely expecting that in those vital 64 hours I'd manage to fly to Berlin, find a flat, remember all my German, assimilate perfectly into the new culture and turn up at my new office with time to spare, ready to wow my new boss.
Instead, none of the above happened, and upon arrival at work I spectacularly failed to open the front door, and managed to get stuck in the bike shed where I had to await rescue. In my defence, it is an extremely heavy door, and as previously mentioned, brute strength is far from my forte.
As first impressions go it was fairly tragic, and only got worse, as I went on to spend the rest of the week developing some kind of flu. I really really didn't want to be 'that' intern who took the second day off sick, so took the (in hindsight far worse) option of being the intern who coughed a lot, probably infected half the office and could barely manage simple tasks, before finally conceding and going home on Thursday. Ideal.
Being ill on the year abroad is awful. I don't have any of my Disney DVD's with me, the German orange juice I bought tastes gross, and it came at the absolute worst time because I had just traded lovely Rome, where I had actual friends and an amazing job, for Berlin where I knew nothing and no one, least of all how to get through all the German bureaucracy, which it turns out is not just a cliche but a very real and very horrible deluge of paperwork to fill out, forms to sign, places to go and people to see.
The first step is to 'anmelden', registering as a German citizen, and this is the gateway to all sorts of other exciting treats; a phone contract, bank account, and a tax number. I'm not overly keen about the latter, since about 20% of my hard-earned intern wages will apparently be going to 'obligatory social security contributions', most bizarrely my 'compulsory pension scheme'. But it all has to be done, which means you have to anmelden, and to anmelden you need to have a permanent German address. Which I did not.
Finding accommodation in Berlin is super competitive - to the extreme that interviews, and in some cases 'auditions' or 'castings' are held for potential tenants or housemates. Apparently, you can expect to be quizzed on anything from your cooking skills to music taste to political views, and that's assuming you get a vaguely normal landlord who isn't just getting a kick out of the sudden power they've had thrust upon them and has taken it upon themselves to think up a selection of riddles, role play tasks or incriminating ink-blot tests...
I guess it's fair enough that flatmates get to choose who they's like to live with, but it doesn't bode well when your current defining character traits are near-constant sniffing and nose-blowing, and a voice so croaky it sounds like you've been possessed. I'm also using flu as the reason I've been struggling to make sense in any language, let alone scary German with all its grammar and words and stuff.
Sitting wrapped in a Star Wars blanket surrounded
by various cough sweets and dubious herbal remedies (all supplied by my
well-meaning but slightly odd landlady) was not how I imagined my
first week in Berlin, but it can only really get better (please). More, and hopefully less moany, updates to follow soon!
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