Schrebergarten: check!
Who would have thought that Fernando and I would acquire our first piece of real estate together while living in a foreign country? Sure, we had sprung for big-ticket items before, but mortgages and major appliance purchases hadn’t been part of our story. So, here we are in Germany, for a two-year stay, and we actually own something. After looking in Kleefeld (15-20 minute bike ride from home) at a couple of these garden properties located in a cluster of three Gartenkolonies (named Waldesruh -“Peace in the Woods”-, Waldefreude -“Friend to the woods”-, and Alte Treue- “Sincerity”), we decided to buy a small-ish (2690 square ft.) property in Sincerity with a wooden shack toward the back of it. To be more precise, we signed a rental agreement for the land plot, became members of the club, handed over a big chunk of change as a “deposit” to the electric company, and bought only the cabin and its modest contents. So not only did we buy our first property while abroad, we also helped to finance a big utility company, and affiliated ourselves with our first club! On the afternoon of the signing a couple of weeks ago, in the cozy, wood-paneled club room decorated with small tables and complete with a bar with three different beer taps, our translator (Fernando’s German teacher, paid time and a half for this job), explained to us our first club custom. When someone entered the clubhouse, everyone seated would knock their fist a couple times against the table. This wasn’t a secret code, exactly, just an efficient alternative to the whole stand up, shake hands, nod vigorously routine. We clearly had a lot to learn, and not just about German legalese and how to prevent plants from dying.
Buying this little shack with no running water and joining the Schrebergarten cultural phenomenon might make for a totally new experience, right? Well, I don’t know who coined the phrase about there being nothing new under the sun, but it just might be true. Because as soon as Fernando and I formalized our interest in being Schreber gardeners, I started to feel some major déjà vu. Yes, we had been here before-- in another time and place.
Just a year ago, we did, in fact, come very close to buying a house in the Decatur neighborhood that we most liked (well, only separated from it by a couple of major commercial roads). The house had good bones but needed exterior painting. The owner was an odd Israeli impresario who traveled a lot and had several young women (and an infant or two) who functioned as house sitters. The women smoked a lot of various things (or so we smelled) and filled the fridge with bottles of root beer and unappetizing take-out, but the house, which was the first we were shown, appealed to us both instantly for its spaciousness, cute potential and value. But once under contract, on the very day of the inspection--in which the house fared remarkably well--Fernando had a videoconference with a Belgian Solvay H.R. exec, in which the details of the overseas assignment to Hannover were explained. Also on that day Fernando received a fax of a real ex-pat job contract. So, all those months of only vague talk about transferring to Europe had suddenly solidified into presentations and documents… This turn of events precipitated our walking-out of the Decatur house deal and restored us to our previous renter status, free to move about and untethered to any particular place.
Well, aside from the vastly different sticker shock involved (about 1/100th, give or take), buying a Schrebergarten carried us through some similar emotions and thought processes as a home purchase would. Granted, on a much smaller scale. And, of course, we never got as far in the process with a real house, so we can’t be sure. But please, read on.
Stage 1: Garten Lust- one week in early May.
These Schrebergartens are little patches of heaven on earth, where the infamously uncooperative northern Germany weather cooperates every afternoon and weekend, providing leisure and fun for adults and young children alike, as well as opportunities to learn how to garden, cultivate fruits and vegetables, watch your child play contentedly in a sand box while you sip iced tea, and where you can make new friends and entice “old” ones through invitations to grill sausages and drink beer. How can anyone in his/her right mind NOT own one of these adorable, reasonably priced pieces of paradise?
Stage 2: Nervous Energy- 10 days in mid May.
Since we won’t live in Germany for too long, and the weather has been fantastic lately, we need to buy a garden NOW. Make that YESTERDAY. It’s a confusing process, since few of the available gardens are labeled as such, and to get information about more vacant gardens you have to stand in line at the clubhouse on Wednesdays only from 6 to 8 pm and hopefully receive a partial list of addresses (without any contact information) of the available gardens. If any of these gardens look appealing, come back next Wednesday and ask for phone numbers and maybe you can see the inside. But let’s just go bike over there every evening after work, and see if we can find more information or people to talk to. We don’t want all the good ones to be sold!! Oh, look! There’s one with a “for sale” sign, and the lady’s watering her plants! Kind of small, with a decent looking garden, but a dark and somewhat stinky little house. We’ll take it! Wait, no, let’s wait. Let’s take it! Let’s keep returning every evening for yet another look; Leo doesn’t mind. Hey, look! Another place with a sign, this one totally isolated and quiet, with a garden that hasn’t been tended to in a year, lots of snails, and a big leak in the roof. Can we fix it? Let’s ask the owner if we can borrow a ladder and take lots of pictures and talk to Julia’s dad about it. Big leak. Should we take it? Sure! Can we fix it? We’ll hire it out. Let’s take it! No, that leak is pretty bad. And those mole hills are awfully high. Should we look at more than just two gardens before signing? No, let’s just take the first one we saw.
Stage 3: Formalizing the Deal- 2 or 3 hours of satisfaction on a Monday in early June.
Finally, this elderly Russian lady with the bad hip and the refusal to bargain even a little has made an appointment with the club leaders to sign over to us her beloved little garden. We sit around a table and get to work. Only now, she has decided to ask for 100 euro more, swearing that that was what we agreed on. Is she kidding? Wow, is she stubborn. OK, no big deal. Let’s give her 100 euro more. And now she’s talking, for the first time, about taking with her some of the chairs and tables and the sun umbrella, and wants to sell us a kiddie pool she no longer needs. No matter--we have a garden! Tomorrow evening, when we meet her at the garden for a little tutorial, will be the last time we have to deal with her barking, her slightly paranoid stare and endless complaints about how much work and money she put into the garden. We’ll learn how to use the water pump and then walk away with the keys!
Stage 4: Frustration at Delays- 4 or 5 days in early June.
Even though we have paid all the money, Frau Fetsch won’t give us the keys until the club transfers the money from their bank account to hers. And since the club members only work once a week, and aren’t in any hurry, who knows when they’ll get around to giving Fetsch her money? And when will Fetsch get around to going to the bank to prove that it’s there? Will she even trust her new bank statement when she does? Who can we contact to make sure our case isn’t forgotten? Let’s go to the gardens and look around for people to help us. And if Fetsch doesn’t give us the keys to OUR garden within the next few days, let’s just walk out of this deal. Wait, how do you say any of this in German?
Stage 5: Garten Realität- a week or so after.
Miraculously, we got Herr Tann, from the club, to understand our barely articulate snivels and sympathize with our desire for immediate access to our garden. It didn’t hurt that it was recently Fernando’s birthday (they’re a bigger deal here) and that Herr Tann had a friend from Argentina (he doesn’t need to know that Chile is not Argentina), but somehow he got Frau Fetsch to relinquish the keys, and the garden is finally ours…
Wow, there’s a lot to be done here. Leo seems to like it but seems also a bit bored and distressed. The little shack is decorated with dusty, kitschy art and weird stuff left by the Russian lady, or maybe even earlier tenants. A shoe horn, a candle in the shape of an ice cream sundae, a butcher knife stuck in the floor just inside the door to ward off attackers, lots of skin lotions from the 1970’s, and piles of scratch paper with calculations written on them. What to do with all this stuff when you don’t even know where the garbage center is, or when it is open? While Fernando cuts the grass, what do I do? Where do I start? Where do I pee? Where did Frau Fetsch pee? Better not think about that. The ventilation could be much better inside. What’s that shimmering grey glob of food product in the mini-fridge? The compost pile is already almost full. Where do we put our grass clippings? How do we deliver stuff out here, without a car? Is that big drum of greenish run-off water that Leo insists on playing with going to give him cholera? Is that baby tick I extracted from Fernando’s arm going to give him Lyme disease? Will we all get skin cancer if this sunny weather keeps up? Are we ever going to be able to sell this place, or will we be paying membership dues well into retirement? How often do we have to water?
Let’s walk-out, let’s demand our money back. It’s too much work and we’re about to have another baby. No, let’s just give it back to Frau Fetsch, no charge. Wait, we can’t do that. She has a bad hip, anyway, and we bought it over a week ago. Oops. How could anyone in his/her right mind actually enjoy having a garden??
Stage 6: At Relative Peace. A couple years (hopefully)
OK-we’ll stay. This summer, there’s not that much to do anyway but maintenance--weeding, watering and cutting the grass. Frau Fetsch planted enough potato plants to feed a small army in the Fall, and we have radishes and raspberries that we didn’t even work for. The rose bushes are in bloom and we can leave the big projects for later. We have a camping toilet for me and a sand box and a kiddie pool for Leo and he enjoys himself more each time we come. We located a nearby grocery store and the neighbors, on one side at least, are very nice. Today we even plan on firing up the charcoal grill, that is, if it stops raining. Did I mention the raspberries?
Buying this little shack with no running water and joining the Schrebergarten cultural phenomenon might make for a totally new experience, right? Well, I don’t know who coined the phrase about there being nothing new under the sun, but it just might be true. Because as soon as Fernando and I formalized our interest in being Schreber gardeners, I started to feel some major déjà vu. Yes, we had been here before-- in another time and place.
Just a year ago, we did, in fact, come very close to buying a house in the Decatur neighborhood that we most liked (well, only separated from it by a couple of major commercial roads). The house had good bones but needed exterior painting. The owner was an odd Israeli impresario who traveled a lot and had several young women (and an infant or two) who functioned as house sitters. The women smoked a lot of various things (or so we smelled) and filled the fridge with bottles of root beer and unappetizing take-out, but the house, which was the first we were shown, appealed to us both instantly for its spaciousness, cute potential and value. But once under contract, on the very day of the inspection--in which the house fared remarkably well--Fernando had a videoconference with a Belgian Solvay H.R. exec, in which the details of the overseas assignment to Hannover were explained. Also on that day Fernando received a fax of a real ex-pat job contract. So, all those months of only vague talk about transferring to Europe had suddenly solidified into presentations and documents… This turn of events precipitated our walking-out of the Decatur house deal and restored us to our previous renter status, free to move about and untethered to any particular place.
Well, aside from the vastly different sticker shock involved (about 1/100th, give or take), buying a Schrebergarten carried us through some similar emotions and thought processes as a home purchase would. Granted, on a much smaller scale. And, of course, we never got as far in the process with a real house, so we can’t be sure. But please, read on.
Stage 1: Garten Lust- one week in early May.
These Schrebergartens are little patches of heaven on earth, where the infamously uncooperative northern Germany weather cooperates every afternoon and weekend, providing leisure and fun for adults and young children alike, as well as opportunities to learn how to garden, cultivate fruits and vegetables, watch your child play contentedly in a sand box while you sip iced tea, and where you can make new friends and entice “old” ones through invitations to grill sausages and drink beer. How can anyone in his/her right mind NOT own one of these adorable, reasonably priced pieces of paradise?
Stage 2: Nervous Energy- 10 days in mid May.
Since we won’t live in Germany for too long, and the weather has been fantastic lately, we need to buy a garden NOW. Make that YESTERDAY. It’s a confusing process, since few of the available gardens are labeled as such, and to get information about more vacant gardens you have to stand in line at the clubhouse on Wednesdays only from 6 to 8 pm and hopefully receive a partial list of addresses (without any contact information) of the available gardens. If any of these gardens look appealing, come back next Wednesday and ask for phone numbers and maybe you can see the inside. But let’s just go bike over there every evening after work, and see if we can find more information or people to talk to. We don’t want all the good ones to be sold!! Oh, look! There’s one with a “for sale” sign, and the lady’s watering her plants! Kind of small, with a decent looking garden, but a dark and somewhat stinky little house. We’ll take it! Wait, no, let’s wait. Let’s take it! Let’s keep returning every evening for yet another look; Leo doesn’t mind. Hey, look! Another place with a sign, this one totally isolated and quiet, with a garden that hasn’t been tended to in a year, lots of snails, and a big leak in the roof. Can we fix it? Let’s ask the owner if we can borrow a ladder and take lots of pictures and talk to Julia’s dad about it. Big leak. Should we take it? Sure! Can we fix it? We’ll hire it out. Let’s take it! No, that leak is pretty bad. And those mole hills are awfully high. Should we look at more than just two gardens before signing? No, let’s just take the first one we saw.
Stage 3: Formalizing the Deal- 2 or 3 hours of satisfaction on a Monday in early June.
Finally, this elderly Russian lady with the bad hip and the refusal to bargain even a little has made an appointment with the club leaders to sign over to us her beloved little garden. We sit around a table and get to work. Only now, she has decided to ask for 100 euro more, swearing that that was what we agreed on. Is she kidding? Wow, is she stubborn. OK, no big deal. Let’s give her 100 euro more. And now she’s talking, for the first time, about taking with her some of the chairs and tables and the sun umbrella, and wants to sell us a kiddie pool she no longer needs. No matter--we have a garden! Tomorrow evening, when we meet her at the garden for a little tutorial, will be the last time we have to deal with her barking, her slightly paranoid stare and endless complaints about how much work and money she put into the garden. We’ll learn how to use the water pump and then walk away with the keys!
Stage 4: Frustration at Delays- 4 or 5 days in early June.
Even though we have paid all the money, Frau Fetsch won’t give us the keys until the club transfers the money from their bank account to hers. And since the club members only work once a week, and aren’t in any hurry, who knows when they’ll get around to giving Fetsch her money? And when will Fetsch get around to going to the bank to prove that it’s there? Will she even trust her new bank statement when she does? Who can we contact to make sure our case isn’t forgotten? Let’s go to the gardens and look around for people to help us. And if Fetsch doesn’t give us the keys to OUR garden within the next few days, let’s just walk out of this deal. Wait, how do you say any of this in German?
Stage 5: Garten Realität- a week or so after.
Miraculously, we got Herr Tann, from the club, to understand our barely articulate snivels and sympathize with our desire for immediate access to our garden. It didn’t hurt that it was recently Fernando’s birthday (they’re a bigger deal here) and that Herr Tann had a friend from Argentina (he doesn’t need to know that Chile is not Argentina), but somehow he got Frau Fetsch to relinquish the keys, and the garden is finally ours…
Wow, there’s a lot to be done here. Leo seems to like it but seems also a bit bored and distressed. The little shack is decorated with dusty, kitschy art and weird stuff left by the Russian lady, or maybe even earlier tenants. A shoe horn, a candle in the shape of an ice cream sundae, a butcher knife stuck in the floor just inside the door to ward off attackers, lots of skin lotions from the 1970’s, and piles of scratch paper with calculations written on them. What to do with all this stuff when you don’t even know where the garbage center is, or when it is open? While Fernando cuts the grass, what do I do? Where do I start? Where do I pee? Where did Frau Fetsch pee? Better not think about that. The ventilation could be much better inside. What’s that shimmering grey glob of food product in the mini-fridge? The compost pile is already almost full. Where do we put our grass clippings? How do we deliver stuff out here, without a car? Is that big drum of greenish run-off water that Leo insists on playing with going to give him cholera? Is that baby tick I extracted from Fernando’s arm going to give him Lyme disease? Will we all get skin cancer if this sunny weather keeps up? Are we ever going to be able to sell this place, or will we be paying membership dues well into retirement? How often do we have to water?
Let’s walk-out, let’s demand our money back. It’s too much work and we’re about to have another baby. No, let’s just give it back to Frau Fetsch, no charge. Wait, we can’t do that. She has a bad hip, anyway, and we bought it over a week ago. Oops. How could anyone in his/her right mind actually enjoy having a garden??
Stage 6: At Relative Peace. A couple years (hopefully)
OK-we’ll stay. This summer, there’s not that much to do anyway but maintenance--weeding, watering and cutting the grass. Frau Fetsch planted enough potato plants to feed a small army in the Fall, and we have radishes and raspberries that we didn’t even work for. The rose bushes are in bloom and we can leave the big projects for later. We have a camping toilet for me and a sand box and a kiddie pool for Leo and he enjoys himself more each time we come. We located a nearby grocery store and the neighbors, on one side at least, are very nice. Today we even plan on firing up the charcoal grill, that is, if it stops raining. Did I mention the raspberries?
posted by J&F at 5:13 AM
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