As noted previously, the process of moving to Russia was not exactly a smooth one, though some of the details may be boring, so I've split this into multiple postings. Here is the second of those postings, focusing on the part of being ripped out of my life in Frankfurt with little or no notice as well as issues of timing.
The original plan was that I should officially be based in Moscow beginning 1 March so I made my moving plans based on that time frame. This was not easy, since I was already in Moscow, so I couldn't do things you might normally do in a move, like culling through one's belongings so there is less to move. There also, as far as I can tell, isn't a type of Salvation Army or Goodwill type of organization where you can donate household goods as well as clothing in Germany, which might have been my preferred option. I had some good things that I didn't want to just throw out if someone could use them, particularly electric items that I wouldn't be able to use in the US. For example, I gave away my office Nespresso machine to a deserving colleague and my awesome mobile Klimaanlage (mobile air conditioner) to my neighbors. I didn't have time to deal with selling things on eBay and the shipping elements, so I ended up sending around a listing of items I had (e.g. printer, shredder, lamps, awesome Bosch hand mixer, amazing toaster that I bought from Barney, computer speakers with subwoofer and things like that) to colleagues at quite reduced price and got rid of most of those things that way. I did end up packing the remaining Nespresso machine and a hair dryer to Russia since it's the same voltage here as in Germany. Anyway, I scheduled the move for Monday, 27 February, with the idea that I would return Hudson and take care of final apartment details on the 28th, and then fly to Moscow on the 29th. Perfect.
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| My sea container |
Of course, as you know the timing didn't quite work out that way due to the visa issue, but nevertheless the move date had been set for the 27th, so I had to work with that. The movers were on time and actually loaded everything directly into the shipping container whereas in Chicago they used a moving truck and then loaded things into the container later. They were very efficient (it's Germany, after all) and fast and perhaps a bit overzealous, packing up some things that were not meant to be packed, which resulted in, for example, me only showing up in Moscow with four pairs of shoes!
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| Who says moving isn't fun?! |
The cats were alternatively freaked out and intrigued by the moving experience. Banes generally loved the experience because there were a lot of people around to pet him and lots of things to play with -- empty packing tape rolls, plastic banding from the cartons, and boxes to jump into (it's a miracle HE wasn't packed) -- and the movers were very good natured with him. Oxley, on the other hand, immediately went into hiding once he realized they weren't just there to visit. All the commotion scared him and I found him huddled in the back of the darkest place he could probably find - inside an armoire. I hated to break it to him that the armoire would also be packed up. Eventually, though, he came out and started to supervise the process, by which time Banes was already too exhausted by the overstimulation to do so.
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| My cell for two nights |
With an apartment devoid of any furnishings, I had to move to a hotel. Because the Lads were still staying there (I had been able to pack a suitcase for them that the mover's didn't pack that contained their sleeping mats and toys), I wanted to stay close by so that I could see them and take care of the final wrap-up of the apartment. Again, this was originally only going to be for a period of 1-2 days, but it didn't quite work out that way. I selected a hotel that is just down the street from my place, really, and that my aunt and some other friends had stayed at and that was basic but fine. Well, they must have been in the luxury rooms as I got what I can only graciously call a cell. Very narrow room with just a single bed on the wall, tiny bathroom, tiny TV with only basic stations, poor lighting and most assuredly no WiFi. (Actually, it kind of reminded me of that place I had to stay in at the airport in Moscow in the dead of winter, except cleaner, warmer and without the door being wide open upon arrival!) I stayed the first two nights before I had to leave for a business meeting and I didn't move or look back. I will say, however, that it had a nice breakfast and friendly staff.
Le Meridien became my new home for the week or so after that. It wasn't entirely convenient because I had to go to my apartment every morning, feed the cats, pick up Hudson and drive to the office, and then reverse the process in the evening. Made for a long commute. There is a tram that goes directly from Textorstrasse in front of my apartment (I should note that I was Mayor of that stop on FourSquare until just a few weeks ago) to another stop just about two blocks from the hotel, so that was rather convenient. As an extra bonus, I could use the iPhone app to buy my tickets that way rather than having to pay at the little tram stop, so quite convenient.
There is a significant limitation in using the app, though, as I discovered on my next to last day in Frankfurt. The cats had already been picked up and my task for the morning was to [sniff, sniff] return Hudson to the leasing company. I checked the tram schedule on the app, bought my ticket and walked to the tram station, where there was a sign saying that there was a strike that day. No tram. And apparently no refund of what I'd already paid for the ticket. Not pleased!! So apparently both the tram and the subway were closed for the strike and I didn't see available taxis, so I ended up having to walk home, which was about a 40 minute walk, to get Hudson. Fortunately, there was plenty of time to do so.
I had never returned a lease car before, so I was not familiar with the process. Those of you who know me and have read the blog know that I have a "thing" for Hudson. I know that it is weird. I accept that. But I love that car! If there was any thing I could have done to have moved him to the US, I would have done so, but the A5 with diesel engine hasn't been approved in the US and thus can't be imported, among other reasons.
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| Do you feel the sense of violation? |
Anyway, I thought it would be a relatively quick and straightforward process like returning a rental car. They'd check the mileage (kilometerage?) do a walkaround to see if there was significant damage and things of that nature. Um, no, it was a detailed inspection. They poked and prodded him and put him up on the lift with his belly exposed. I felt as violated as he looked. And I felt really bad when I realized he had a little dent under his front cowling that I hadn't seen before. What kind of an inattentive car mom am I if I missed that?! I'm so sorry, Hudson....
After this traumatic experience, I wanted to just rush away to the tram a couple of blocks away to go back home. Oh wait, what tram? Curses. The drop-off point was in the middle of nowhere with NO taxi stand potential and it was definitely not within walking distance to home. The guys at the shop called a taxi but I ended up having to wait about 40 minutes before it showed up. Not a great day.
And long as this blog entry is, it's not the end of this series of postings about the relocation experience. In the third (and, I believe, final) blog in the series, I'll cover the hassles of returning an apartment to the landlord.
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