Ausverkauf.
We’re down to our last week in our Wilhelmstraße apartment, so this week we put most of our stuff up for sale. While it’s sad to think that we’re finally on our way out of Germany, I also have to say that the process of selling our things has been fascinating.
We started by listing our things on Berlin Scholars, an email list for English-speaking academics in Berlin. Immediately a middle-aged couple came over from the Free University, who buy furniture for international scholars on research or study visits. They brought with them a pad of colored dots, and put red ones on everything they were taking. Incredibly, in the process of talking about why Dave and I had been living in Berlin, we came to discover that these were the in-laws of one of the new Buka scholars who I met in Baltimore in April.
As the week progressed, more and more people came by – an artist, a physicist, a political scientist, a dancer – to buy my old bike, our comfy chairs, printer, kitchen things, even our bedroom curtains (we’re now sleeping with eyeshades to block out the sun that rises at 4 am).
We had little kids running around our apartment, people changing diapers in the bathroom, even shared our guacamole and chips with a writer as he decided whether to buy our water filter. We have helped the people carry all these things down the stairs and into cars, vans, and taxis. It’s actually a bit strange to be on the other side of these exchanges – the experienced Ex-pats rather than the novices who have trouble getting anything accomplished.
On Friday we hosted our last barbecue for Dave’s friends from school, making American-style burgers and cookies while we watched Turkey beat Croatia (our neighbors were partying for hours over the outcome).
Benjamin and a bunless burger.
I put together Wundertüten (grab bags) for everyone filled with things we knew we couldn’t sell (cookie cutters, desk supplies, candles). We played a version of White Elephant with the bags and it was a lot of fun – and on their way out, everyone got something more (cups, wine glasses, plants) to take with them.
Natalia and our wind chime.
We had difficulty selling our appliances, so we listed them on a German website – kind of like Craig’s list – on a tip from a Hawaiian woman who bought our coat rack. Today a couple came over to buy the fridge, apologizing for bargaining a little with us over the price (apparently Germans don’t haggle like we expected they would). Then the woman said, “Wir sind Glaubige” – “We are believers” – and, to my confused expression, explained to me in English that they were Adventists. They left us with a little literature to read:
After they left Dave pointed out that they probably saw the different last names on our door and our lack of wedding rings - removed for the painting - and felt the need to do a little low-key proselytizing.
It’s getting more and more empty here, and more than ten times we’ve each looked above the stove for the clock that somebody bought, or gone to turn on the light that’s no longer attached to the wall.
Today we’re painting our orange and blue walls back to boring white, and as I take a look around the apartment, I know that it was worth the trouble to paint the walls white to bring some color into this place.
We’re down to our last week in our Wilhelmstraße apartment, so this week we put most of our stuff up for sale. While it’s sad to think that we’re finally on our way out of Germany, I also have to say that the process of selling our things has been fascinating.
We started by listing our things on Berlin Scholars, an email list for English-speaking academics in Berlin. Immediately a middle-aged couple came over from the Free University, who buy furniture for international scholars on research or study visits. They brought with them a pad of colored dots, and put red ones on everything they were taking. Incredibly, in the process of talking about why Dave and I had been living in Berlin, we came to discover that these were the in-laws of one of the new Buka scholars who I met in Baltimore in April.
As the week progressed, more and more people came by – an artist, a physicist, a political scientist, a dancer – to buy my old bike, our comfy chairs, printer, kitchen things, even our bedroom curtains (we’re now sleeping with eyeshades to block out the sun that rises at 4 am).
We had little kids running around our apartment, people changing diapers in the bathroom, even shared our guacamole and chips with a writer as he decided whether to buy our water filter. We have helped the people carry all these things down the stairs and into cars, vans, and taxis. It’s actually a bit strange to be on the other side of these exchanges – the experienced Ex-pats rather than the novices who have trouble getting anything accomplished.
On Friday we hosted our last barbecue for Dave’s friends from school, making American-style burgers and cookies while we watched Turkey beat Croatia (our neighbors were partying for hours over the outcome).
Benjamin and a bunless burger.
I put together Wundertüten (grab bags) for everyone filled with things we knew we couldn’t sell (cookie cutters, desk supplies, candles). We played a version of White Elephant with the bags and it was a lot of fun – and on their way out, everyone got something more (cups, wine glasses, plants) to take with them.
Natalia and our wind chime.
We had difficulty selling our appliances, so we listed them on a German website – kind of like Craig’s list – on a tip from a Hawaiian woman who bought our coat rack. Today a couple came over to buy the fridge, apologizing for bargaining a little with us over the price (apparently Germans don’t haggle like we expected they would). Then the woman said, “Wir sind Glaubige” – “We are believers” – and, to my confused expression, explained to me in English that they were Adventists. They left us with a little literature to read:
After they left Dave pointed out that they probably saw the different last names on our door and our lack of wedding rings - removed for the painting - and felt the need to do a little low-key proselytizing.
It’s getting more and more empty here, and more than ten times we’ve each looked above the stove for the clock that somebody bought, or gone to turn on the light that’s no longer attached to the wall.
Today we’re painting our orange and blue walls back to boring white, and as I take a look around the apartment, I know that it was worth the trouble to paint the walls white to bring some color into this place.
posted by Erin at 4:47 PM
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