To Russia with (a little bit of) Hate: The Russian Visa Process

I learned two things going through the procedure to acquire a Russian Tourist Visa; one, I absolutely hate/despise Frankfurt am Main; and two, the application process to gain entry to Russia is worse than college and job applications combined.

The epic tale started in mid-April, we had booked flights to Saint Petersburg and confirmed reservations with the Hermitage Hotel.  Normally, (for most trips anywhere) this is where the proceedings end - you board a plane and waltz into your destination (city/country).  However, when it comes to Russia, this is barely scratching the surface.  The easy part is over.  From here on out will be arduous and painful, like Rocky's and Ivan Drago's workout routines from Rocky IV.

Enjoy nearly eight minutes of cinematic brilliance

Once the flight and accommodation have been booked, you must request the hotel (or travel agency/company) write a letter (of invitation) sponsoring your visit to the Federation.  This is required for each person, no two-for-one convenience here - in fact, everything will be inconvenient from this point forward.  After obtaining the sponsor letter(s), you must complete an online questionnaire that will make you wonder if you are applying for a tourist visa or a top-secret security clearance.  Before proceeding to the online steps, ensure that your health insurance is covered in Russia, if not, you will be denied entry (otherwise, apply for traveler's insurance).


The questionnaire may or may not include some of the following questions:

1)  Employer Name; Address; Phone Number; Person of Contact, Email, and Phone Number...for the last decade

2)  Describe your life in 35,000 words or more.

3)  Parents' Names; Address; Phone Number; Maiden Name (if applicable); Favorite Salad Dressing, Horological Sign; High School Algebra Grades, and Closest Celebrity Resemblance

4)  Disclose any/all livestock wrangling experience.  (Have none?  Start learning.)

5)  What is the appropriate cooking time for baked milk?  (The answer is eight hours. You're welcome)


After the online form has been completed, continue to schedule an appointment at your local Visa Handling Service or VHS - a facility whose acronym is fittingly synonymous with the outdated video technology.  My first appointment was scheduled for April 15th at 10:00, allocating enough time required for the passport forfeiture (ten business days (normal), or three business days (express), also account for Holidays, domestic and Russian) before our next trip to Lucca, Cinque Terre, and Pisa.  The closest VHS center is located in Frankfurt am Main, generally an hour and a half drive.  Unfortunately, on the 15th, it took three hours, making my two and a half hour buffer futile (the drive was identical to the opening scene of Office Space).

Before my trip, I found a parking garage only a few blocks away from the VHS and within walking distance.  Little did I know, the garage was located on Depraved Straße (well, maybe it was Moselstraße).  Due to the lengthy drive, I had missed the first of my two scheduled (15 minute) appointments.  That didn't seem to be too big of a problem because I was there for all of ten minutes.  After leafing through the packets for Julie (I was there on her behalf, required a signed consent form to do so) and myself, the employee said that one wasn't signed and could not proceed.  I asked if I could sign for Julie, as I was already there on her behalf; but, that was resolved with an immediate and stern, "No."

Three hours in a car, ten minutes in a building, and one huge failure.

I walked back to Moselstraße and parsed my way through the catatonic heroin-addicts zombie-shuffling down the sidewalk.  I am absolutely sure of the heroin use because I passed a man squatting on the pavement behind three mini bottles of vodka placed in an almost ritualistic fashion. He was hunched over with a bent spoon in one hand and a lighter in the other - the syringe placed within the triangle of vodka minis - a lovely sight at 10:30 in the morning.  (Non-sequitur.  I never liked the old commercial of your brain on drugs being the portrayed as an egg frying in a pan.  The egg representing the brain makes little sense; the unfertilized gamete is useless on it's own and will spoil if left alone.  The frying pan represents drugs, yet, a skillet is a cooking tool that has many practical applications.  Therefore, my brain seems to be barren without drugs...?   I digress... Regardless, this Wednesday morning junkie had an entirely different understanding  of the commercial, "Drugs. they're what's for breakfast.")

I didn't stick around for the addict's balanced buffet, plus, I was miserable from the long drive and frustrated about being denied our tourist visas.  When I pulled out of the parking garage, there was a police paddy-wagon that had cracked down on the local fringe populace.

Lesson learned: any amount of time spent in Frankfurt is too much time spent in Frankfurt.



Fast Foward two weeks.

For my second appointment, there was just enough time to relinquish our passports for the allotted ten  business days before our trip to Zadar, Krka and Plitvice Lakes.  Also, we were able to go back online and amend a few clerical errors that would prove costly otherwise - the VHS charges €5 for each correction.  If you believe you made no mistakes, the VHS will find something and provide an illogical, time-wasting explanation to make certain there are errors.  For example, I had to further explain my current "unemployed" career status.  Nonetheless, I had everything in order, but when I got about halfway to Frankfurt am Main, I had to turn around due to an unexpected event that required our immediate return to the States.



Fast Forward another two weeks.

The time has come, the last scheduled appointment would make or break our trip to Saint Petersburg.  The notion is disconcerting because everything must be paid in advanced before a visa can be approved.  Everything started out great, I was able to coast into the city without any traffic - an unexpected convenience.  Due to the shady happenings near the garage on my first visit, I was able to find another nearby location.  Sadly, my new option was the only garage in the city that was full.  Thus, I had to return to Heroin Avenue - still crawling with the usual suspects.  It was 11:00 and the zombie horde was already in full stupor, milling around in unknown polygonal trajectories.

My early arrival found an an empty office with no wait, another surprising convenience.  I had all of our paperwork organized, signed, and ready to go.  I explained to the female employee, due to the time restraints (flight in 8 days) I would need to apply for the express service.  There were no issues until the worker came across Julie's signature.  Apparently, Julie's application signature was not identical to the one on her passport.  Then, she explained that I would have to sign a form (of which was entirely in German) stating that I am submitting the application knowing the signature is different and the Russian Consulate reserves the rights to deny entry and keep the fee.  Augmenting the consternation was the price of the express fee, €235 - each.

We had no option, but to apply and wait and see.  We were already bound with the cost of the flight and hotel; another €470 on the line only made sense in this nightmare of a process (the money we thought we saved from the low fares has long been eviscerated).  Three days later and another awful drive to Frankfurt am Main, I finally had good news, we had both been granted our tourist visas.

In the end, it was one hell of a circus; forty-seven days to get thirty-day tourist visas, not to mention (but really mention) a Scrooge McDuck-sized fortune to obtain.  One thing is for certain. Russia better be worth all the ridiculousness.

Scrooge McDuck swimming in the Russian Visa Handling Service Vault
(appropriately accompanied by Tchaikovsky's Waltz from Swan Lake)

Also, I hate Frankfurt.

Ganz Deutschland ist Weltmeister

For the sake of convenience, I have neglected to write about the World Cup due to superstition and the fact that I am months behind on updates.  Die Mannschaft (Germany's national fußball team nickname) opened the group stage of the World Cup with Portugal.  Knowing Homburg was hosting public viewings for all the games, we decided to venture out to watch the game with the locals.  

Unfortunately, we got off to a late start and we failed to find the public viewing area because we were rushed to find a television.  We ended up at a local cafe off the main street and arrived 25 minutes into the game - fortunately, Deutschland was already up 2-0 at that time.  The game ended with a 4-0 thrashing and we were introduced to the celebratory tradition of honking your horn throughout the city.  Upon our exit, we found the public viewing square with the droves of people flooding into the streets after the victory - we would attempt to watch the next few games in the public spectrum (and one in Heidelberg).  

Panoramic during the World Cup Final

The public viewing in Homburg was located in the market square (Marktplatz), an electrifying atmosphere packed with fans,  The entrance was similar to a bar pushing the fire code limit - those waiting to get in could only do so when someone left the square.  When Die Mannshaft defeated Brasil 7-1 in the semi-final, there was no doubt we were going to watch the final in downtown Homburg.  

We arrived to the square a half-hour before kick-off and we still had to wait for the one-in one-out to gain admittance.  The crowd was rowdy before the starting whistle, but soon became subdued by the tense oscillation of the match.  When Argentina scored in the 32nd minute, the air left the square, however; the replay showed Gonzalo Higuain was offside and fans rejoiced as if Germany had scored.  We continued to watch with hopeful reservations - cheering every offensive possession and holding our breath while defending.  

During halftime, everyone resumed their normal respiration while replenishing their palates with copious amounts of beer.  We took advantage and relocated to a spot closer to the big screen as the second half was about to start.  After the ninety minute whistle, the crowd was an emotional wreck and neither team had scored.  Then the first fifteen of extra time had passed and still no score, but there was a refreshing confidence if the game went into penalties - Germany has never lost in penalties.  

Fortunately, penalties would never come, in the 113th minute - Mario Götze brilliantly put Die Mannschaft ahead 1-0 turning the crowd into bedlam.  The remaining seven minutes seemed as long as the previous 113, but the Argentinian side failed to equalize.  

The final minute of the game can be viewed in the video below, had there been better lighting, the amount of beer tossed in the crowd would near the volume of a keg.  

Let the celebrations begin...

Live music filled the historic square of Homburg and we moved towards the streets.  We expected the winning tradition of honking horns, However, when we arrived, we didn't expect the scene we stumbled upon.  There was no police presence, but there was an organization to this chaos and it will always sit among the top sporting experiences for me.

Ganz Deutschland ist Weltmeister!!!

Fans trying to stop every passer by to burn rubber

Peaceful riot, no injuries, no car flipping, no fires - well flares are different

One of many celebratory sit-downs

Marktplatz, Homburg - Deutschland vs. USA

Christus Statue with Homburg Coat of Arms, Photo: sol.de

Deutschland vs. USA

Deutschland vs. Portugal

Honking

Lots of flags, one toy car

The song that was the biggest hit throughout the World Cup and is a standing-on-table beer tent favorite (Andreas Bourani - Auf uns)

Musings and Random Rants

There were many details left out of the first few weeks in Germany, but in the interest of the general interest in reading this blog, I thought it'd be best if the issues were gathered in one location. The following will be covered; the nightmare that is in-processing, the German internet, our second battle with Ikea (is that a washing machine riding shotgun?), and our dogs vs. ticks.

In-Processing

In-processing is the equivalent of having to spend the rest of your days inside the Commissary - only, you are relegated to being the Sisyphus of bagging.  Maybe one day I can garner the capacity to summarize the horror, but that will not be today, nor in the near future...nor the distant future.

For the time being, imagine a world where the Nintendo game, "Duck Hunt," represents in-processing.  Successfully beating a level is equivalent to completing one task among a litany of obligations.  With that being said, the best way to describe in-processing would be akin to never getting past the first level and have that goddamn dog laughing at you for hours.

The German Internet

The internet at our apartment in Landstuhl was slower than what we have been accustomed to in the past, but the wireless router was two floors below us - understandably, there was going to be slower access speeds.  Unfortunately, our future experiences with the German internet would pale in comparison to that of our temporary housing.

When the came time to sign up for internet at our new home, we soon learned that Kabel Deutschland (the best provider) isn't near "Wo sich Fuchs und Hase 'Gute Nacht' sagen." The process of acquiring a provider is complex, confusing, frustrating, and painful - being the Sisyphus of bagging at the Commissary nightmarish.  We live in a rural area, therefore; our only option for internet providers were SkyDSL or Tooway, and we even signed up for both.  First, our Land Lord had offered to pay for everything if we used Tooway, he also had a friend who would complete the installation.  We signed up for Tooway service around May 6th and it is currently October - we have yet to receive our satellite and/or further confirmation of our services.  Thus, we subsequently signed up for SkyDSL and our satellite arrived a week and a half later.  As it turns out, the satellite is actually made by Tooway and comes from the same factory - the dish even had a SkyDSL sticker covering the Tooway logo (a whaaaa..? Einhorn is Finkle, Finkle is Einhorn*).

Then came time for installation and to make a long story short, our entire house is wired with coaxial cables incapable of carrying a modicum of digital information.  Therefore, every coaxial outlet in the entire house is useless (this took two hours to discover).  The only option left was to directly wire the cable from our satellite dish into our attic and set up a wireless router there.  By definition, we have an internet connection, however, we were informed that internet providers like SkyDSL and Tooway keep track of your data usage.  If you are using more than one gigabyte a day (equivalent of streaming one hour of HD programming) they will put you into a "high usage" category and slow your internet speeds down - which doesn't seem possible (just adding pictures to this blog can take hours at a time).  On a rainy day, our internet is a quarter the speed of a dial-up modem, on a cloudy day it is about half the speed of dial-up, and if is is a sunny day we are lucky enough if we can reach dial-up speed.  

Recently, Netflix arrived in Germany and it is our hope that our "group of users" binge watch anything and everything online, thus moving us back to a faster bracket.  Also. it should be noted that our internet speeds have improved since Netflix became available.

*

IKEA, Round 2 - FIGHT!!!

When we had settled into our lovely home we needed to find a washer and dryer for our laundry room, but wanted to spend as little as possible.  We found a vendor in Ramstein-Miesenbach that sold used washer and dryer units for a fair price, but only washers were available.  After some research, we changed our course and we looked into a washer/dryer combo if it would cost less than two separate units.

We found one...at IKEA.

When we arrived, we walked around the showroom looking for all the washers and dryers, but they are hidden throughout Ikea. The washer/dryer combo we were looking for was arbitrarily placed away from all the other appliances - disguised within a cloak of kitchen cabinetry.  Sadly, it was looking like the cost of Ikea washers and dryers were slightly cheaper, but we weren't convinced it was worth buying a new machine and the combination unit was more a space saver than cost saver.  As we walked through the warehouse, our final stop was to look at the discount section - there, they had a waschtrockenmaschin, exactly what we were looking for and affordable.  The price for the 2-in-1 was equivalent to the price of a single machine, we placed it in a cart and we were on our way.  

Now came the ultimate decision, do we have it delivered for a nominal fee, or do we try to squeeze this into the car (remember Fifi's storage capacity is the size of a lunch box).  I voted for delivery, however, my husband-issued half vote was trumped by Julie's single vote - forgoing delivery and to put Fifi to the test.  The trunk and back seats were not an option due to the size and/or the angle of the door - leaving one option, the passenger seat.  If we opened the door at it's maximum and put the seat in a fully reclined position, the doorway spared two centimeters of clearance.  To be honest, I didn't think it would fit, more like, I didn't want it to fit - however, twenty minutes later we had a washtrockenmaschin in the car.  All that we needed to do now was drive home, but ten minutes into the drive, the gas light indicated we were low on fuel.  

View of Waschtrockenmaschin in passenger seat

Took this picture with my arm in the trunk

It was already dinner time and we were just content with driving straight home, even if it meant scrounging around our cabinets for food.  When the gas light came on we used the GPS to search for the closest gas station, but we had to get off the Autobahn - a regrettable mistake to say the least.  We drove for ten minutes and still hadn't reached our destination, the gas station was more likely to be at someone's house based on our surroundings.  Therefore, we had to reroute our GPS again to another gas station. We were back on track and heading towards an Esso, or so we thought.  Twenty minutes later we had arrived at our destination, only there was an empty field to our right and a group of trees to our left.

Where were we...?

Was this to be a future gas station...?

What the hell G-PoS?

We tried another station, which appeared to be in the next little town - we could see it in the distance and when we got closer, it was closed!!!  We had been running on fumes for nearly 40 minutes at this point and stress levels were rapidly escalating.  After our GPS located another gas station that didn't exist, it was clear we were in the middle of no where, it was after 21:00 and we had no one to call if we ran out of gas.

The levies of tolerance broke when we found a sign for the Autobahn, only the on-ramp was under construction and we would have to turn around.  We drove through another small town or two and miraculously a way back towards the Autobahn presented itself.  While on the Autobahn, we finally spotted a gas station, unfortunately, it was on the other side of the highway.  A few kilometers later we found an exit where we could turn around.  It was now 22:00, we still hadn't had dinner and we had given up on the night.  I ended up having a gas station sandwich and pastry, surprisingly delicious, in the sense that I haven't had anything to eat for nine hours delicious.  

The following day, the washtrockenmaschin was still riding shotgun when  I drove Julie to work.  Upon our arrival to the security gate, we had a most interesting exchange with the guard, "Sir, is that a washing machine in the passenger seat?"  When I returned to pick up Julie from work, a different security guard took interest in my inanimate copilot - only, he wanted to know if I was giving it away.  When we arrived home, our neighbor was outside pulling weeds from his driveway and when he observed us moving our washer/dryer out of the car he offered to help.  He was gracious enough to help carry the unit into the house and upstairs to it's duty station.

Duffy waiting for his load of laundry to finish

Bella and Duffy vs. Ticks

The final diatribe concerns the insane tick population here in Germany, they are everywhere - there are more ticks than dog poop on the sidewalks of Metz.  Our backyard is a great place for the dogs to run around and play, we even have a tree house for my tea parties with Duffy and Bella - the major set back, ticks.   Within the first week of moving, Bella had five ticks on her and Duffy had two.  They both get their monthly treatments, but these insects are relentless.  Ticks continue to be a problem, but we just continue to be hyper-vigilant - like we are a troop of howler monkeys incessantly grooming each other.




Next time in musings and random rants...

our household goods arrive...

our dogs get passports...

the world's largest straw hat festival...

and...

my future career of becoming a street gondolier...  

Our Sanity vs. IKEA - Battle Stations

Ten days remained on our temporary housing and we had the desperate urge to get out of our cramped apartment.  The time had come to leave Landstuhl, we signed a lease and our house was ready to be inhabited.  The only problem, we had no household goods, therefore; we had no furniture - leaving us with one option, a voyage to IKEA (auf Deutsch, "Ick-E-ah").  Unfortunately, FiFi has the loading capacity of a lunch box, we were going to have to figure a way to get the items delivered.

The week started out with some good news, we got word that our household goods were finally ready for their trans-Atlantic trip and the estimated time of arrival was narrowed down to the month of June.  To maintain a semblance of sanity during an Ikea trip, it is of the utmost important to assemble a list of items out of inherent necessity.  Ikea is an hour away from our house, therefore; we had to ensure our planning was thorough enough to complete in a single trip.

Our house was unfurnished, sans a single chair for the desk in the kitchen - with our furniture arriving sometime next month, purchases could only be justified by cost effectiveness.  For starters, we needed a bed so we could sleep at our house (heated tile flooring is welcoming, but uncomfortable), this would also double for furniture in our spare room for future visitors.  Also, our rooms are typical European style, therefore; we would need wardrobes - rounding out the agenda; a couch, chair, and coffee table.  Simple enough, our list was complete and it was time to take on the nebulous void, Ikea.

Why is it that Ikea has a design similar to that of a Casino?  Large structures with easy access, aimlessly meandering patrons, a ubiquitous sensory overload, and once inside, there is no getting out.
We set sail late in the morning, arriving at Ikea around noon - had a quick lunch in the food court and mentally prepared for the typical, painful Ikea experience.  Before we started shopping, we went to the customer service desk because we needed to know if they would deliver to our area.  After a half hour at the desk and many phone calls later, the answer varied from: yes, no, that's just past our delivery range - to, "wait, where is that?"  Ultimately, the answer was yes, and it would cost an extra $30 Euro to go past their delivery range.  Ikea was already stressing us out and we had yet to step foot into the showroom.  Maintaining focus, we pressed on, we had been in Ikea more than an hour and were just making it to the display floor.

It felt like days... no, weeks... no, months... did we miss the World Cup..?

Suffice it to say, we found everything we needed in the showroom, although, this process took nearly three hours.  Casino-kea had trapped us and we still had to complete our reconnaissance mission in the warehouse.  Here, we also encountered the unforeseen expenditures; we had no pillows, silverware, glasses, plates, or bowls - like a casino, just when you think you can walk away, the house reels in more loot.  By the time we reached checkout, we had a shopping cart and two large warehouse carts full of boxes and assorted goods.

Checkout proved to be the smoothest process we encountered, with exception to eating lunch hours earlier.  After our purchase, we needed to make our way back to the customer service desk, grab another number and wait to be called.  However, we had been in Ikea so long, the person working the service desk was a different employee - we went through the same process of organizing a delivery to our area.  Luckily, we had written the information given to us before and our delivery was scheduled.  By the time we left Ikea, it was a little after 18:00, we spent over six hours there - had we applied for jobs when we arrived, we would nearly have a full day's pay by the time we checked out.  The mission was complete, we fought a necessary evil and we both survived - plus, this meant we could move into our home sooner rather than later.

Three days later, Ikea arrived at our empty house and we finally had furniture.  By the end of the week I had our new furniture assembled and we were prepared for our final move.

We Found a "Home" in Homburg

The majority of our week was dedicated to looking for a home - time was running out and extending or finding different temporary housing wasn't an option.  We had seen at least 20 apartments and townhouses by this point, and we knew that an apartment in the city was not going to work.  It didn't take long to figure out that our dogs are not city dogs, the little one is afraid of anything that makes loud noises - it must be tough when the only thing you tower over are insects and dog toys.

Having narrowed our search to just townhouses, we whittled down our options immediately, and only a handful of places remained.  Eventually, we came across a home in the town of Homburg, newly renovated, had a large fenced back yard, plenty of room, and got lots of light - it was perfect.  Our only issue, we struggled to communicate, the Realtor and land lord spoke as much English as we spoke German.  We wanted to express our interest, but struggled to explain that we had a few other appointments to honor - knowing we didn't want to lose this opportunity.  We had already lost out on a home in Waldmohr, where three other people viewed the house and forty minutes after we left, someone had signed the lease.  After visiting the remaining homes, we both knew that we had found our "home" in Homburg.  We called the Realtor and said we were ready to sign a lease as long as we could move in after signing.  It was official, we finally had our new home, "Wo sich Fuchs und Hase 'Gute Nacht!' sagen", where the fox and hare say good night - the English equivalent of, the middle of no where.

There was a few days where we thought, maybe something better could have been out there, but nothing appeared on the AHRN website and we knew that we made the right choice.  The rest of our week was calm and we topped it off by taking the dogs on a hike to Burg Nanstein, the castle that sits atop the hill behind our apartment in Landsthul. The hike was really short in comparison to our experiences in Costa Rica and the trail was ideal for the dogs.  We walked around the castle grounds, took pictures, and stopped to enjoy the view of Landstuhl on a bench next to Burg Schänke, the restaurant adjacent to the castle.  Living in town was a wonderful experience, but we were ready to move out of our cramped apartment and into our new home.

Burg Nanstein

A view of Landstuhl

Wide angle view

Our Second Week: Don't Drink and Festival

When we had our household goods packed up on April 1st we were told that our items were (likely) to arrive a week or two after arriving in Germany.  Also, we were informed that we would have to move our goods or find storage within five days after arriving.  Neither of these statements had the slightest bit of truth to them.  Our assumption was that our shipment was arriving soon and with nowhere to move them, we would be in an overwhelming pit of stress.  We were able to contact the shipping company's logistical side and the person we were dealing with - a nightmare of a human being throughout the entire process informed us that our household goods were still sitting in the port of Norfolk, Virginia.  Our container wasn't scheduled to leave the country for another week or two and our agent had no estimate as to when our shipment would arrive, none whatsoever.  Apparently, weathermen and logistical agents can be the only professions where completely inaccurate forecasts have no recourse.  We took this as a blessing in disguise because we had nowhere to live or any idea of where we wanted to live.

Having a cell phone was a great start for our search for an apartment or house - except, we were using the German newspaper classifieds to call landlords regarding available properties.  Fortunately, I knew enough German to ask; if I was speaking with so-and-so, is the rental still available, and can we schedule a time/day to see it, and if they spoke English.  However, my successes were wildly varied, but a better option would soon come to light.

Mid-week, Julie came home with the wonderful news that we now had an Automated Housing Referral Network (AHRN) login and we could now start looking at properties online rather than looking through newspapers.  We would still have to make calls for appointments and additional questions, but the convenience of looking at pictures was immensely advantageous.  We were well on our way to finding our new home which called for a celebration.

Neither of our palates may be refined, however, all the wine and beer here is delicious and cheap.  Our only issue, where do all the empty bottles go?  We had already been separating our trash (dry and wet waste), separating our plastics, sorting our aluminum - but, where does all the glass go...?  While searching for an rental home in Quiedersbach, the previous tenant clearly had the same issue, there were approximately 80-90 empty handles of Captain Morgan's strewn throughout the home, a disturbing, yet impressive feat.  Soon enough, we learned that bottles could be returned to a collection container near a local grocer, Lidl - and we could stop living like glass bottle hoarders.

The week's end was nearing and we would learn two important lessons in life in Germany.  The first, not really a lesson, more of a discovery.  Steaming television and movies with Europen internet is not a possibility using the usual means of Hulu, Netflix, or HBOGO.  Fortunately, Julie stumbled upon an App within Google Chrome that allows for our VPN (internet access point) to appear as though it originates from the Unites States, thus allowing us to watch our Netflix (not so successful with HBOGO).  This was great news for us because we didn't know enough German to follow along with any television programming, with exception to watching 3.Bundesliga games on Saturday, which need no translation.

The other lesson we learned, don't drink and go to festivals.  We knew festivals were popular in Europe, but our first local event had set up three blocks from our apartment.  On Friday, we had our own Happy Hour at home while watching a German dubbing of The Simpsons (episode where Bart beheads the Jebedeiah Springfield statue).  We left the apartment to forage for dinner, (ultimately Garabaldi's) but the festival was right there - we had to take a look.  We walked around and stumbled upon a drink cart, almost like it was from the wild west.  The owner was from France who spoke some English and some German - we were offered free shots and that was good enough of a hook to reel us into a purchase.  The cart was full of various bottles and you could fill them up with the liquor of your choice.  Knowing the vendor was French, the obvious choice here was to select Absinth, however, we chose a larger volume bottle and our new friend failed to inform us of the charge per centiliter.  The price, $54 Euro, we were pot committed at this point - plus, it seemed like a good idea at the time.  Lesson learned, don't drink and buy liquor at festivals.

Street vendors at festival

Drink cart

Surely you can read what this is

Our festival experience reached its climax as we approached the main square in Landstuhl.  There was live entertainment, the streets were surrounded by vendors, and numerous beer stands.  Our entertainment for the evening, a dance with fire - the children surrounding us were most enthused.   The adults on the other hand, were only impressed by the guy spitting large flames.  The other half of the show involved a fire dancer and even she seemed bored by her own act - although, after she added more fire, she grabbed our divided attention.

Fire breather imitating a wheat burning dragon

Bring back the other guy

All in all, our second week was great.  Germany was starting to feel like a place we lived rather than somewhere we were visiting.  

The First Seven Days

Our first week was similar to our last night in the States, there were ups, downs, and periods of confusion.  On the second day, Julie went to get a tour of her new facility and I was left with the task of picking up our rental car.  Lacking familiarity with the area, I packed a backpack with my ipad (screen shot of map), water, and our GPS (to find my way back home).  Locating Hertz proved to be easier than expected, however, the same cannot be said of the return trip.  When reserving our car, Julie had asked if I have ever driven a manual - the short answer, "yes."  Although, in hindsight, the long answer may have been more prudent.  I should have divulged that my experience was singular and I drove for approximately 20 minutes.

A Hertz employee drove the car around to the front, he spoke German and pointed at things in the car that I should be aware of: the reflective vest, emergency kit, traffic triangle, and what type of gas to put in the car.  The moment of truth finally arrived, I entered the car and I was ready to test my "skills," fully aware that I was likely to stall upon leaving the parking lot.  As expected, I stalled just as I pulled out of the parking lot.  Fortunately, I had awkwardly sat in the car for several minutes setting up the GPS and acting like I was typing in directions.  Thus, allowing the Hertz employees to resume their normal duties, in hopes that my embarrassing escape would go unnoticed.  Knowing the trip back was going to be painful, I found a parking lot down the road where I could spend my time refreshing my memory of what I learned for twenty minutes...fourteen years ago.

I spent a significant amount of time here and driving around the area, avoiding major roads, while passing the same people and buildings at least fifteen times - including the Hertz office.  I must have looked crazy, it was obvious that there was a GPS on the dashboard of my Ford Fiesta (Fifi), but I drove in circles for an hour.  Once I garnered the confidence to drive to the apartment, I entered the address and was ready to go, but a new adventure unfurled.  The first direction dictated a right turn at the light and then proceed to make a U-turn.  Much to my chagrin, this was a physical impossibility, the GPS had me turn onto the on-ramp for the Autobahn.  While merging, I cursed the navigation system with every possible combination of profane phrases I knew and prayed that the Flying Spaghetti Monster would bless the car with his noodliness.  Luckily, an exit was only a few kilometers away, I turned around and merged back onto the Autobahn and soon was back on my way.  I finally reached the apartment parking lot and as I rolled into the spot, the car stalled one last time.  The car was parked at a peculiar angle and realizing it took me 15 minutes to walk to Hertz and nearly an hour and a half to drive back, I was done driving for the day.

The rest of the week was far less exciting than driving on the Autobahn as your my first solo drive with a manual car.  The majority of our first week was devoted to establishing a new routine and figuring out how to live in Germany.  The single most important thing we learned was to get a German bank account - without one, getting a cell phone, apartment, or paying for any bills is a almost an impossibility.  To our advantage, Dante's 8th circle of hell (BX/Exchange) has two branches and we went with the logical choice, the branch with the shorter line.  Our next step, return to a semblance of normalcy and get cell phones, with limited options - choices range from; horrible coverage, poor coverage, or acceptable mediocrity.  We now had a means of transportation and communication, next on the list, explore our surroundings.

We had the convenience of living in downtown Landstuhl and we had a 30-day per diem to take advantage of, therefore, maximizing this privilege is of the utmost importance.  It didn't take long for us to establish our favorite lunch/dinner locations - Barbarosa for lunch, Garabaldi's for dinner.  Barbarosa is similar to a Panera/Starbucks hybrid, but better, and Garabaldi's is a great Italian restaurant run by twin brothers who will quickly learn your orders when you eat there three times a week.  

All in all, our first week was akin to an obligation to complete a ridiculous scavenger hunt; we really had to figure everything out on our own, yet our accomplishments were rewarding.  We were starting to settle, however, we only had 23 days of per diem remaining and we were told our household goods were to arrive the following week.  Now the pressure was on to find a permanent residence, a fun and frustrating process.

New Day, New Country... Now What?

The next day... wait... the same day..?

Time travel sure is confusing.


After arriving "home," it was difficult to fight the urge to go directly to sleep after a long day of traveling.  In order to adjust to our new timezone we would have to try and stay awake as long as possible.  To do so, we hit the ground running and started some errands, unfortunately, the dogs couldn't help and we didn't trust them to have the run of our apartment - so we had to put them back into captivity, their crates.  For the sake of brevity, our "handler," Steven, was a wealth of knowledge and helped make the early part of our move a smooth transition.  Once we had our luggage and Haustiere in the apartment our first order of business was to get the proper identification to access the surrounding military bases.

Ramstein Air Base (RAB) was a ten minute drive from Landstuhl and as new arrivals we went to Building 134 located at the west gate.  This is the visitors center and also issues CAC identification cards - to complete this process, we needed our passports and Julie's duty orders.  Our experience went somewhat smoothly, the confounding issue was that customs didn't officially stamp our passports upon entry into Germany.  Having arrived a few hours earlier, we still had our airline tickets and that seemed to suffice.  Once we had our ID's we were free to enter the air base, where Steven had a mini-tour planned to get us acquainted with our surroundings.

Our tour started with a quick visit to the "any town USA mall," otherwise known as the eXchange/BX/PX/Mall (better known as Dante's 8th circle of hell).  The mall comes complete with a movie theater, kiosk stands, two banks, the outdoor recreation facility, plenty of shops, and of course, a food court - complete with familiar franchises; Johnny Rockets, Taco Bell, Subway...and so forth.  Our next stop wasn't really a stop, more of a fly-by - we drove past the Commissary (definitely Dante's 9th circle of hell) and the Lemon Lot adjacent to the North Chapel - a place to look for a cheap beater car.  There were two more planned stops and other logistical obligations to tend to near the library.  While waiting here, we picked up the ever important German Driver Licence Booklet (more on this later).  Before heading off base, Julie and I requested that we walk across the street to see the library.

After we received our library cards we had one final stop, Steven's house in Ramstein-Miesenbach to gather some of our unaccompanied baggage.  Before moving, we shipped five storage containers to Steven's APO address - an incredible way to get assorted necessities to Germany before we arrived.  We returned to the apartment, unloaded the burdensome containers and departed ways - now it was just the four of us, zwei Haustiere und zwei Menschen.  It was early evening and we were starving, our last meal was on the airplane and now it was time for dinner.  A short walk from our apartment we stumbled upon Oscar's Irish Bar, there was outdoor seating and German beer beckoned both of us.  We made our best efforts to order in German, however, we were greeted with English - the location is heavily American, so it was nice to have an easy night not worrying about speaking broken Deutsch.

View from our apartment

Other side of Kaiserstrasse

The Move

Fortunately, our flight from BWI was connecting in Atlanta, a dog friendly airport - or so we were told.  The short trek down to Atlanta went very smoothly, but we arrived on the domestic side of the airport and would have to move to the international wing with about 40 minutes until takeoff while boarding started in 20 minutes.  We quickly had to figure out what to do with our dogs since the next leg of the trip was going to be approximately ten hours.  While making our connection, we asked an airport employee where we could find the "dog friendly" section - we needed to take Bella and Duffy out of their bags to stretch and relieve themselves.  Well, as it turns out, there is no such place to take your dogs after passing through security - the pet friendly area is outside of the airport.  What a frivolous misnomer, apparently, "pet friendly" depicts any area outside the airport (before security)- therefore, it seems to me, all airports are are pet friendly.

Duffy and his short-lived freedom

Bella confused about being in an airport

With the short time we had to get to our gate, exiting the airport for the dogs wasn't a remote possibility.  However, we had a one-way ticket to Germany, therefore, we had no qualms about violating the "dogs must remain in their bags" rule - seems more of a suggestion than requirement, plus we could always claim ignorance to the fact.  The dogs were freed, they stared at their puppy pads for a few minutes and nothing happened - a futile effort, but successful enough that we could get them one last dose of Xanax before boarding the long flight.

The luxury of doggy travel

This flight went less smoothly than the first-leg, with a few minor inconveniences.  The lady next to me requested to be moved due to the two dogs that were near her (seats 2-3-2, she moved four seats away).  Then Duffy had a small "freakout" moment around hour seven when Julie got out of her seat to stretch her legs.  We took him out of his bag and he slept in my lap for the next hour and half until a flight attendant said someone was allergic and he had to go back into his bag.  As time passed, several whiskeys were imbibed, and our teleportation to Germany was complete.

So we moved to Deutschland, now what?

Fortunately, we had someone waiting at the airport to pick us up and drive us to our temporary housing.  It was seven in the morning on April 22nd and we have been traveling for 15-hours - so our first priority was find a place for the dogs to christen their new land.  After several attempts, there is now a place in the Frankfurt am Main Airport parking garage that is Bella and Duffy territory.  A two hour car ride latter, we arrived at our apartment, above a vet in downtown Landstuhl.  The drive was beautiful, from the autobahn you can see a plethora of small villages, all with a distinct church steeple near the town center.  Off in the distance we could see Germany's dedication to green energy - there are windmills and solar farms everywhere.  With open and tired red eyes we were both taking it all in, our new home, Deutschland.