Friends in Unexpected Places

Making friends in a new country is hard. If your move abroad was to continue your education, then you're one of the lucky ones since campus life can act as a buffer against total isolation. Even if you fail to make deep connections, you still have the opportunity to interact with other individuals. 

But when you make the move to a foreign country in a non-academic setting, things are completely different. Even with roommates, it's possible to go days without talking to anyone. And If you're a social person like me, this is especially frustrating. So getting out the house on a regular basis is key. 

Until you find friends to entertain you, you'll have to find ways to entertain yourself. Coffee shops are good, but can become repetitive. My solution was the film noir series at the Münchner Stadtmuseum. For only €4, you can experience the beauty of 50's cinema, like a young Marlon Brando in a Streetcar Named Desire. And with an adjacent cafe offering light plates and a lovely Pino Noir, you can turn the experience into a personal date night.  But be quick since the series ends February 15th.

Photo: homo-centric.com

Eventually, even the gangsters and detectives lost their luster. I longed for human interaction and intelligent conversation. And this is when I turned to the expat board,Toytown Germany

Normally, I shy away from expat groups. I'm clumsy and awkward and meeting large groups of new people makes me go into my own head and overanalyze everything around me. But my friend suggested Toytown since she had good experience meeting cool people there. So when I saw they were having a Christmas party that was pretty close to my home, I pushed myself out of my comfort zone and went. 

Good lord, the party was everything that I had feared. It was just as uncomfortable as a high school dance when you're the new kid in town. But at least there was booze to help mask my discomfort. And I did meet a really nice couple. But they told me they were leaving the country for good next month and this was probably their last event. Dang.

Not to be discouraged, I decided to give Toytown another chance and found a writing group that sounded pretty interesting. 

Fellow writers pouring out our creative souls

This time, I fit right in. The group is small, so conversations between the members is easy. And sharing your writing is such an intimate act that after a few meetings and a few beers, you start to feel connected to each other. Absences are noticed and constructive criticism is given from a place of love and respect. 

Also, by meeting in smaller groups, you're able to discuss the expat experience in a more personal manner. One of the members, Pam, has lived in almost as many cities as years I've been alive. She reminds me of a more subdued version of Auntie Mame with her tales of foreign suiters and beautiful vintage jewelry. The information and advice that she and the others have offered has helped to make the transition to Germany a little easier. I feel a little less alone.

Another strategy that has been helpful to my friend in Berlin was joining a church. But I like to drink and swear and most church members would interpret that as heathen behavior, so I can't really recommend that route. However, I will not discourage anyone from using Jesus for companionship. If you're in Munich, there are several churches with services in English. I've checked out the Munich International Community Church and can say that it's not too bad. The service starts at 3:30pm and they have free cake afterwards, so you get to sleep late and get rewarded with sweets for being good. 

I guess the trick to meeting new people is to be willing to try new experiences, which is probably the reason why you moved to a new country in the first place. And remember, that even in your loneliest hour, there are people out there who feel exactly how you feel. You just have to have the courage to find them.

Visa Time

Those mountains in the background? The Alps!

On July 31st, my residence and work permits for Denmark expired. In order for me to to get a new one from the Germans, I needed several things. If I worked in a "real" industry like computers or engineering, I would be eligible for the Blue Card which meant that all I had to do to get permission to work in the country is present a job offer. But I'm a creative and my job is in entertainment, so things were a little more complicated. 

The first hurdle I had to cross was a valid work contract. This was accomplished by luck/ prayer/ begging. I scoured job listings and miraculously found someone that was willing to hire me. I would work as an international event planner and organize Oktoberfest events throughout Europe. Plus my native English skills would be put to use and help the company expand in England and Scotland. Score!

The second hurdle was finding a home. As I mentioned in this post, in order for me to submit my visa application, I first needed a place to register as my residence. In order for me to register I needed to present a lease with my address. So that meant that I actually had to find an apartment before my job even started and I received my first pay check before I would be given permission to work. Fuck. My company was registered in Uberlingen (which I call the Alabama of Germany, but that is for another post), but my new boss said that we would be moving to Munich after the Oktoberfest tour ended in November. So that's where I started my apartment search. And ran into wall after wall. Trying to find a place there was so hard and stressful that I was afraid I wouldn't find one before my Danish permit expired and would have to leave the EU. I spoke to my boss about the trouble I was experiencing and he offered me a place in one of the apartments in his house in Uberlingen to use instead. 

So I packed my bags and headed south. I took the train from Copenhagen since it allowed me to take more luggage and after three trains and a stop in Nuremberg to see a friend, I arrived in Alabama Uberlingen. 

Now, I don't expect many of you to have actually heard of Uberlingen before, I certainly hadn't until met with my boss. The only thing you need to know is that it is small. So small in fact that the nearest airport is in Basel, Switzerland, which is about an hour away by train. The only thing going for it is the fact that it is a tourist destination for Austrian and Swiss tourists as it sits on Lake Constance, which is borders Switzerland, Germany, and Austria. Oh, and on a clear day, you can see the Alps. 

Brass bands and beer in a Bavarian Beer Hall, one of the few pleasures of Uberlingen

My arrival at my boss's (who I will hereafter refer to as C) house cleared the second hurdle. Now all that was left was receiving clearance from the German authorities that I could take the job that was being offered. For many reasons, German citizens have priority when it comes to employment. This means that the only way C could hire me was if no other German or EU citizen living in Germany was better qualified. How they check, I have no idea, but I had to supply both of my degrees as well as a CV and job description to show that I met the qualifications. And then they see if there is anyone that was better qualified. If there was, they would be offered the position and I would SOL. Thankfully, no one came forward and we received preliminary approval for my application. However, the visa would not come for another month, which meant that I had to live with my boss in a tiny bodunk town for four weeks, with nothing that even resembled a nightlife. 

On the positive side (or should I say sides since there were many things to be grateful for) I got to spend the summer in a lovely town, rent free. The lack of social life gave me the opportunity to enjoy the first real summer I got to experience in three years. And looking back, I'm so happy I did get the chance to relax because little did I know, the upcoming months were going to be exquisite torture.

See you later, Copenhagen

Photo: iboriogangi.tripod.com

First, I would like to apologize for my sudden and abrupt departure. This blog was birthed from boredom and unemployment. I needed something to keep my mind sharp and skills current while I prayed for a paying job. And then it came and I pushed this project aside like an old, formerly loved toy. Also, I figured that my new experiences as a newly employed, now financially secure person would have little resemblance to the struggling lifestyle I wrote about. Oh, how wrong I was.

Funny how a steady paycheck fails to eliminate some the problems I once faced. So now I'm back and ready to continue on the journey I started several months ago.

Second, I am no longer in Denmark. Like so many sad immigrants before me, I was forced to leave. I actually received a letter from the immigration office about a month before my residence permit expired which read (and I'm paraphrasing), "Your residence permit will expire on July 31st. Please be sure to leave the country before or on that date or you will face fines and will not be permitted to enter the country again for three or five years. Cheers!"

Of course I was stressed since I did not have 77,000 kroner nor a job offer that would pay the 31,250 kroner per month needed to turn my residence permit into a green card.  

So I looked elsewhere and was fortunate enough to land a job in nearby Germany. I made the leap in June and have been traveling around Europe for work for the past four months. 

Saying good-bye, or even see you later to Copenhagen was hard because I actually liked living in Copenhagen. Unlike many before me, I befriended native Danes. And I mean, they were/ are really my friends; we go out and have dinner together and they don't talk in Danish. I took the train to Germany and as my boyfriend started to count down the minutes before my train arrived, tears started pouring down my chubby cheeks. Leaving him and the life I had created there was like ripping out my heart. I still get a little sad when I think about it.

O well. Shit happens. I am currently in Munich, amassing new stories and having new adventures. So if you will allow me, I'll take you with me to this new and foreign land. There's so much to discover and hopefully you'll be there as I feel my way around. Stay tuned.

Moving Sucks

Photo: Hyperbole and a Half

I said this blog was going to be about the lessons learned while living on a limited budget in an expensive country. So please allow me this rant.

I am a nomad. I have lived in about 10 different places, in two different countries, over the last 6 years. And while the thrill of adventure can be a wonderful thing, the constant upheaval and lack of long-term stability is starting to take it's toll.

The actual moving of stuff isn't the worst part (though it is close). No, what sucks major donkey balls is the finding the place to move your crap to. And doing so when you are financially challenged is the turd cream on a poop pie. When money is not an object, you can pay bloodsuckers realtors to do the hard work for you. For upwards of 15 percent of the annual rent, someone else will go through the trouble of finding your perfect dream home/ apartment. But if you're like me and every dollar/ euro/ kroner counts, such luxury is not an option.

Apartment searching is difficult largely because people are assholes and the entire process makes me want to crawl into a ball and cry. My latest foray into apartment listings has caused my midday drinking to increase exponentially. The worst room tumblr is only funny when you're not the one showing up to each viewing with the expectation of finding something that is actually habitable. People who list closets as cozy rooms should be gut-punched by every person that answers the ad. 

I also have an intense hatred for people who use apartment listings as personal ads. No, I will not use my vagina in lieu of cash to pay for shelter. 

And if you think intra-city moves are stressful, good lord, try international moves. You have all of the same stress, but now you have the added worry of scammers since you're not in the actual country you're moving to. Here, a trustworthy friend is a godsend (Thanks Tandi). Currently, I'm trying to move from Denmark to Germany so that I can work there legally as an American citizen. Another monkey wrench for me is my work permit is dependent on me obtaining housing. So I can't work to afford a better place until I shell out the money for a crappy one. Did I mention that I will not even live in this apartment for the first three months since I will be traveling for my job?

Just writing this is making me frustrated, where's my beer? 

Adventures in selling: The loppemarked at Cafe Retro

In an effort to raise some cash and clear my closets of lovely, yet rarely worn items, I decided to sell some clothes at the flea market at Cafe Retro. Unlike the popular ones that largely take place outside, this one was indoors, required only a small fee of 70kr, and sellers can use the tables, chairs, and random nails of the cafe to display their items instead of having to bring their own wardrobe racks. 

I figured the low investment would yield maximum profits and estimated how much I could make if I sold most of my items. I packed my large red suitcase full of the clothes and shoes that I loved for years and made my way to city center, hopeful that each garment would find an owner that loved them as much as I did.

So imagine my disappointment when I arrived and the first words I hear while I'm setting up were, "if it's a nice day, we're not going to get anyone in here. And today is supposed to be really nice." Fuck!

True to the speaker's words, a grand total of 20 people came, and three of them were my friends who came to show support. There would have been one more, but she went to the wrong location and brought a supportive latte to the Cafe Retro in Nørrebro (hi Sarah).

Don't we look busy?

To make matters worse, it was freaking hot. So hot that I actually fell asleep in my overstuffed chair. Also, my boyfriend pointed out that it was the end of the month, meaning that few people had cash that they would want to part with. 

The absolute worst part of the whole experience is the feeling of rejection when people don't want to buy the things that you think are great. I once told a worker at a dry cleaner that I loved my clothes the way people loved their children. And meant it. So I was saddened when the few people that did make their way to my section just looked and walked away without even trying something on. 

How can you not love a yellow suede dress?

I'm a chubby gal with a bountiful bosom and when another seller said that my DKNY coat was beautiful but that she would be swimming in it, I felt like Fatty McFatterson trying to sell a bunch of Walmart styled muumuus. My spirits were lifted when a woman whose cups also runneth over picked up a semi sheer black dress with white embroidery (shown in the first picture). But then hers were crushed when it became apparent that she had too much for the fabric to contain. 

In the end, I sold one dress for 40kr. And bought a Kelly styled handbag for 25. Add to that, the 70kr fee and I made a net loss of 55kr, more if you include transportation costs.

But all hope is not lost. I also signed up for the flea market at Studenterhuset which is much more popular. It's prime location near Stroget means that it sees much more foot traffic than Cafe Retro which is located on a side street close to Parliament. So wish me luck with this one. I'll be bringing a few more random items, including Roskilde supplies and some electronics. If anyone is interested in checking it out, details are available on Facebook.