Home Again (With Ailments)

I'm back in the States and despite a cold and a strange bug bite from walking through the woods outside Berlin last week, I am doing well and it's nice to be home.

So after I moved out of my apartment, I moved into the family's house for 2 weeks where I teach English. The mother, Birgit, showed me to my little room on the 3rd floor or their narrow, but cute, duplex. Moving out of my apartment proved to be a bit trickier than I was hoping. Thinking I'd be able to ship a couple boxes but take the rest with me on the plane, I soon realized my thinking was overly optimistic and very unrealistic. As I surveyed my little studio apartment with several boxes and my suitcases already packed, I saw just how challenging it would be to find a place/box for the rest of the stuff which still needed a place to go.

It was very disheartening to have no idea what to do with my things. Apparently, my several trips home to the States during my 2+ years in Germany had made for quite a bit of my belongings finding their way to my apartment in Berlin. Since the grocery store didn't have any boxes and there was no one else to ask the day I was supposed to be moved out, I just piled things in the corner and put them in bags, plastic containers, and crossed my fingers that the new tenant wouldn't balk since he'd offered to drive me and my things over to Birgit's house, almost an hour away.

Even though I had tried to start early in cleaning the stove, fridge, and bathroom a few days in advance, I wasn't prepared for quite the massiveness of the cleaning I had ahead of me. With a deadline of 6pm, when the new tenant was to move in, I rushed around all day scrubbing and washing everything down, not to mention running to the bank, post office, grocery store, etc., in my hurry to take care of the last errands.

The new tenant, Dirk, called to say he'd be a little late which helped me, but didn't calm my nerves enough. I still had homeless items strewn across the bed, shelves and floor, the balcony still looked like a pigeon-poop, dusty mess, and the floor...well, it still needed to be tended to. To make matters hairier, just as I was about to finish mopping, I kicked over the entire bucket of very dirty water, gushing the brown water inch-high under my bed, sofa, and nightstand.

I wanted to cry, but instead kicked into full gear, cleaning up the disgusting mess at high-speed. By the time Dirk rang my bell, the floor was glistening, the balcony had been mopped, the walls had been spackeled, the stove top and oven were shining, and I had even had time to change from my ratty cleaning clothes into jeans and a clean top. I smiled as he opened the door and welcomed him in, as if I'd had it all completely under control. No minute like the last, I suppose. It's unfortunately my life motto, no matter how much I try to plan and organize.

Dirk walked in and saw the mound of my possessions, and being the businessman used to stress he is, he didn't bat an eyelash and we took a few trips down the elevator with the boxes and bags, packing it into his car. With one last quick goodbye scan of the little place that had been my home over the last 1.5 years, I ran downstairs and got in the car.

After a long, trying car-ride to Birgit's house with included carsickness and extreme hunger from not eating all day while cleaning, we finally found her house and I handed Dirk the keys wishing him well in my new apartment. I can only hope he is a deep sleeper because otherwise he'll get to experience the added perk of the apartment: my psycho screaming neighbor. But otherwise, he should be just fine, and I already miss the little place.
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At Birgit's over the 2 weeks I spent my afternoons and mornings alone, there or in Berlin, while she was at work (her husband works out of town all week) and the kids were in the "Kindergarten," or pre-school, trying to organize everything else before I was to leave Germany. This included trying out an oboe.

After selling my own oboe because a constant struggle to get it to play the way I wanted, I had been renting a wonderful Marigaux-brand oboe from my music conservatory. Ideally, I wanted to purchase that oboe because not only did it fit me perfectly, it would be much easier than trying to find another good used Marigaux oboe. However the school's instrument was not for sale, so I was left to have to find one for myself.

I'd tried several different Marigaux oboes over the last few months, but was having no luck. I'd been praying about finding an oboe, as well, and knew that something would come eventually, but I was 2 weeks away from flying home and couldn't take the school's oboe home with me. Not only that, a few days after my arrival at home I was scheduled to sub with a symphony near our home, so I needed a halfway decent instrument.

But just in the nick of time, I was informed by another oboist at my conservatory, that her studio teacher (also the English hornist of the Berlin Philharmonic), was looking to sell his wife's oboe, who herself is the principal oboist of the Berlin Symphony Orchestra. So I called the professor/English hornist, Dominik, and we scheduled a time for me to come to their apartment and try out the oboe and possibly take it home to try for a longer amount of time.

I was interested in the oboe but wanted a second opinion from a critical listener, but my professor wasn't answering his phone after several attempts. So I called Dominik back and asked humbly if he'd have a few minutes to listen to the oboe since I figured as a professor his first priority would be finding a suitable oboe for a student instead of making a euro.

He surprised me by suggesting I come to the Berlin Phil's rehearsal and during the break he'd have the other oboists take a look at the instrument to give me their opinions. I was excited and nervous to know I'd soon meet Albrecht Mayer, the Berlin Phil's principal oboist and solo/recording extraordinaire. Not only did I get to meet Albrecht, he used my reed to try the oboe. After trying the oboe personally, he and the 2nd oboist both agreed that the oboe was quite good.

Finally reaching my professor, however, he was quite skeptical about the age and use of the instrument, being 8-9 yrs. old, often played, and priced on the high-end. Since he couldn't meet with me, I took the oboe to the local oboe-builder and woodwind shop, Frank und Meyer, and had Mr. Frank make an appraisal of the instrument. He appraised the oboe quite under the price Dominik had asked for, which was the price he'd had it appraised for, but suggested that if I really liked the oboe, it may be worth it to ask just a couple hundred less than the asking price, or even pay the full price because of the convenience.

I ended up talking again to Dominik and I carefully asked him to go down 200 euros (not down the 700 my appraisal had suggested), and he readily agreed. So we both got what we wanted and I'm the proud new owner of a Marigaux oboe who has had a nice little history on the stage of the Berlin Konzerthaus, where the Berlin Symphony Orchestra performs (also where I've performed a few times). It all happened in the last possible second (the day before I flew home!), but thank the Lord it all worked out and I have a nice oboe to use this week for the symphony rehearsals!
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*In other briefings, though my tenant gave me 200 euros more for the furniture in my apartment (I'd asked for 500, he offered 700 because of the convenience), that money didn't even have a chance to get warm in my hands before I had to spend almost 190 euros (!) just sending 3 boxes to our house and a couple to Matthias' for storage until I decide I need that stuff. That certainly made me feel sick to my stomach, but I suppose every move costs money; it's unavoidable. *sigh*

* The strange bug bite I got while walking on a little path through the woods with Birgit and the 2 kids started swelling after my 10 hr. flight from Munich to Chicago. Thought at first I thought it was still a mosquito bite and my feet were swelling from the long flight, I soon realized that the red mark was blotching and I could hardly walk on that foot. Being the hypochondriac that I am, the thought crossed my mind that it could be a blood clot and I might die the next day. But my mom calmed me down and I iced the swollen foot that night. The next day it was the same, however, so I went to the doctor and they thought maybe the stinger was still in the bite, causing it to inflame and swell.

After 2 very painful shots of novocaine and the doctor digging around looking for a non-existent stinger, I felt a wash of heat and nausea come over me. Just in time, the doctor suggested I lie down and she had the nurse come in and put a cold cloth on my head. Luckily I was able to keep everything down in my stomach, and after a nice cold glass of water I was on my way out of the clinic. They put me on antibiotics for the infection, and though much of the swelling has gone down, the blotching was becoming more apparent. If the redness turns into streaking, which would indicate the infection has entered my bloodstream, I am to go back to the doctor for some real digging, this time with a knife. Yikes!

I was advised by several people that I should continue to soak the area, and apply heat, especially in the form of a warm, damp washcloth wrapped in Saran Wrap, and then covered by a heating pad. That seemed to help last night, but I am watching it carefully. But despite that and a cold, I am happy to be home! Now about that dreaded job search....

Update: Thanks to the antibiotics and the great tip mentioned above, the redness is almost completely gone and it seems I won't have to make another trip to the doctor, which is, by the way, not covered by insurance. I was kicked off our family's insurance once turning 25 and though I was covered in Germany, need to find a plan here... I'll just have to cross my fingers that the bug bite infection was the last thing medical thing I'll have to pay for!