Fühl dich zu Hause

“Fühl dich (wie) zu Hause” is the German equivalent of “Make yourself at home,” and in the course of my first few weeks in Frankfurt, I found myself on the receiving end of this phrase more times than I can count: from S, from S’s children, from C, from the Schulleiterrinnen (principals) and several teachers at both the Elsa and the Bettina. But no matter how many times people told me to “feel (like) at home” during those first three weeks or so, I could never bring myself to feel like anything but a visitor and even, at times, an intruder. And I think—in fact, I know—this was in large part due to my lack of “home” to feel in.

Obviously, I was not living on the streets during my “homeless” period– my Betreuungslehrerin S had a free bed in her apartment, which she very generously offered to me at no charge and with no scary, looming expiration date attached. But despite S’s generosity—or maybe, out of my perverse American pride and need for independence, because of it—I was still impatient to put down roots, so I (fairly) quickly set to work searching for a suitable WG.

A Wohngemeinschaft, or, WG is the same as a shared apartment in the U.S. and in Frankfurt it is pretty much the only affordable living arrangement for a person on my income (other than student housing, which I missed out on by a long shot—unlike at most U.S. universities, it’s extremely limited here. Another reason for my impatience to find a place: starting in October, Uni-Frankfurt students would be returning, and the already-fierce competition for affordable real estate would become even fiercer). There are, in broad terms, two types of WG: Zweck WG, in which everyone minds their own business, eats their own food, and adheres to a strict cleaning schedule, and kein-Zweck WG, in which your roommates are also your bar buddies, your TV-watching pals, and your dinner dates.

In Frankfurt, real estate pickings are like Hollywood actresses—slim and expensive—and the entire time I was on the hunt, I was convinced that mine was the most impossible of all the apartment searches in Germany, or at least among Fulbrighters. In retrospect, though, I realize that I actually got off pretty easily. In about a ten-day span I sent out a total of 30-odd enquiries using the websites wg-gesucht.de and studenten-wg.de, which are basically virtual bulletin boards for people searching for and/or offering housing across Germany. Out of those 30-odd enquiries I sent out, I received six invitations for a Besichtigung, or visitation. Out of those six invitations, I wound up visiting a total of four WGs—all in the space of three days, Tuesday-Thursday, September 18th-20th.

Out of those four visits, one turned out to be my new “zu Hause.” See if you can guess which:

Wohnung #1: (Schwanthalerstraße) I almost didn’t go to my first Besichtiguntstermine on Tuesday evening because C had invited me to have dinner at her apartment the same night, and to my culture-shock addled brain the idea of rescheduling either of these things—or of doing both—seemed plainly impossible.  Fortunately, I mentioned the appointment to C in passing, C suggested that we look up the address on Google Maps, and lo and behold, it was a mere ten minute walk from C’s place in Sachsenhausen, so we went apartment-visiting and still had a delicious Maultaschen dish (the recipe for which I need to ask C for at some point). Thus I had a native speaker with me on my first Besichtigung—a tactic I highly recommend to anyone apartment hunting in a foreign country, as it enables you to deflect attention from your own linguistic clumsiness and social awkwardness. The apartment was located in a sanierter Altbau (refurbished old building) right around the corner from the Schweizer Platz U-bahn station, the Rewe grocery store, and a branch of Sparkasse (my bank); the room was spacious, generously furnished with IKEA bed, desk, wardrobe, and (best of all) bookshelf; the kitchen was fully decked out, complete with washing machine AND DISHWASHER; and the prospective roommate, M, was friendly, tidy, put-together, and clearly not a psychopath. Naturally, I fell in love with the place immediately. And had to actively work to conceal my dismay when M explained that she was entertaining several possible Mitbewohnerinnen (flat mates) and would need the weekend to decide.

Wohnung #2: (Münzgasse) I arrived at this 4-er WG, located in a giant apartment complex directly in the Innenstadt, on Wednesday evening thinking I had made an appointment with the people who lived there—to meet, to see if we had compatible personalities and living habits, to sniff each other out, so to speak, seeing as how they’d advertised as a keine-Zweck WG. Instead, I was greeted by dark windows, and by a cheerful middle-aged landlord/property manager carrying a blue duffel bag. Because I am an American, and a conscientious television viewer well versed in crime procedurals, I promptly became convinced this man was going to murder me given the chance. So I clutched my keys in my fist, ready to slash at his face if he made any sudden movements, as he led me through the empty apartment and showed me my prospective room—into which, as politely as I could given my terror, I declined to follow him. The room itself wasn’t bad—carpeted, a little oddly shaped, furnished with solid-looking pine bed, wardrobe, and dresser—nor was the apartment. But unlike in many German cities, where the Innenstadt is typically the oldest, most charming part, in Frankfurt the Innenstadt is all concrete and fiberglass, and it was hard to imagine myself feeling at home there, even given the proximity of the more-picturesque Dom-Römer area and the ready access to public transportation.

Wohnung #3: (Wolfsgangstraße) SUPER swanky four-bedroom apartment located in another sanierter Altbau in Westend, the same part of town as my schools, and owned by A, a (to me) impossibly self-assured and socially graceful woman in her early forties. A, as it turned out, works in publishing. Actually, I’m pretty sure she owns a Verlag, or publishing house, here in Frankfurt. Yes, I googled her when I got back from the visit Wednesday  night—“NETWORKING OPPORTUNITY,” my brain screamed at me, impressively, given how deaf my brain usually is to things like that. Anyway, A belongs to that strange German breed known as the Wochenendheimfahrer , meaning that she herself only lives in the apartment Monday through Thursday, spending weekends in southern Germany with her husband and family. To help with expenses, she rents the other three bedrooms to other Pendler (commuters) and Gaststudentinnen (guest students, like me). This WG was the Zweckiest of WGs: no communal dinners, no loud music, no visitors allowed. The apartment was incredibly clean, incredibly quiet, and incredibly mausoleum-like, complete with marble flooring and elaborate floral arrangements. I couldn’t shake the feeling that, if I lived there, I would scarcely ever encounter another human being.

Wohnung #4: (Battonstraße) Or Sketchy Landlord: The Revenge. That’s right, my fourth and final Besichtigung on Thursday led me back to the Innenstadt, to another apartment complex apparently managed by the same rosy-cheeked serial killer from whom I had narrowly escaped with my life a few days earlier. This WG, another 4er, was at the top of six cardio-respiratory-testing flights of stairs, and the room-to-rent wasn’t so much a room as a closet. But it was fully furnished, including a very comfy-looking armchair, and it had a balcony, which overlooked the Main River and Alt-Sachsenhausen beyond (okay, with another row of lower-rise apartment buildings obstructing the view). Unlike at my last Besichtigung with Sketchy Landlord, this time one of the current residents was at home—however, it was girl I would hypothetically be replacing, so again no chance to test for potential roomie-chemistry.

It occurs to me that presenting these four living arrangements to someone and asking them to choose which apartment I ended up living in might not be half bad as a litmus-test of sorts for that person’s level of optimism. It could be like one of those personality quizzes that show up constantly in women’s magazines: if you picked #1, you are an bright, sunny human being who believes that things work out for the best; if you picked #3, you are a pragmatist, who hopes that I at least jumped on the opportunity to advance my professional prospects, etc. etc.

In reality, it came down between Wohnungen numbers 1 and 2: I crossed my fingers and my toes all through the weekend for number 1, wishing all manner of unseemly habits and ungainly social defects on M’s other prospective Mitbewohnerin(nen), but I had number 2 on standby just in case, because I was determined to be out of S’s apartment by the end of the week regardless. Monday night I was camping out at Starbucks, the internet at S’s having gone kaputt in a strangely prophetic/symbolic way, and I was ready to pull the trigger on my second choice when, finally, I received an email from M…

… the first words of which read, “Es tut mir Leid” (“I’m sorry”).

Disappointment came down on my head like a ton of bricks, but eventually I gathered the wherewithal to read further, realize that what M was apologizing for was taking so long to get back to me, and learn that I had, in fact, gotten the place on Schwanthalerstraße. 

Score one for the optimists.

So, once again, I found myself instructed to “Fühl dich zu Hause.” Only this time, I felt like I finally could. By Thursday I had gotten the keys and, with M’s help, moved all of my suitcases from Westend to Sachsenhausen. By Saturday I had the all-important name on the mailbox. Monday I went grocery shopping and cooked for myself for the first time since leaving the States. A week ago yesterday, the October 1^st deadline my mother and I set for my potential retreat to the United States passed without my even realizing it. I’m finally starting to conceptualize this thing I’m doing here in Frankfurt as a life, something that will continue to grow and develop over time, as opposed to just an existence, to be gotten through moment by moment. Hessen’s two-week Fall Break begins at the end of this week, and I’m planning to travel to Amsterdam, Budapest, and Vienna during that time. Written on my iCal for October 27^th,  the date I’m set to return to Frankfurt (and also, incidentally, my birthday) is the phrase nach Hause, (to) home.