Ryan’s Wednesday Afternoon pt. 3 – Viewing the Apartment and Debrief
Following him through the front door of the place, I’m struck by its apparent age. The walls are solid cement, and the tile floors display patterns much too detailed to be new. Also, the stained wooden stairs cry when I climb them. He leads me through the tiny dark lobby of “the first building” and past a two-person glass elevator into the building’s courtyard. I think I see a ghost in one of the corners.
Bicycles line the edges of the courtyard, propped up on the building’s outer walls. I imagine there’s at least one bike per resident. The only area in which I see no bikes is to the right of us, beneath the tin/wooden canopy that shields the garbage from rain. As I follow the stone path from the back of “the first building” to the front door of “the back building,” I’m impressed by the courtyard’s coziness. Mostly, it’s because the courtyard is about the size of two tennis courts and the 5-story apartment buildings wrap around its edges. They’re relatives crowded around a newborn’s crib.
Anyway, now Wolfgang and I are in “the back building.” I’ll be seeing a room in this one.
“There’s a…um…keller? I don’t know the word in English.”
Shot in the dark from me: “A cellar?”
“Yes! That’s it. There’s a cellar somewhere, here. But I don’t know where it is, so we’ll have to ask Saskja.” And then, “Oh! Saskja is the girl who lives here, now. She is waiting for us upstairs.”
“Great!” We climb, and the stairs cry.
On the second floor (we would call this the third floor in the States) I see three doors. Two appear to lead into apartments while the third leads onto a balcony. Wolfgang notices I’m looking at the balcony.
“Ah, yes. That’s the balkon. There’s no way to access it from inside the apartment, but it belongs to whomever rents the room you are about to see. The other girl on this floor knows that it doesn’t belong to her room.”
“Oh, okay.” I’m a little disappointed that I would have to put on real-person pants to walk into the hall and out to the balcony. Call me old-fashioned.
Wolfgang knocks on the door, and after a few seconds Saskja answers. She’s a tall woman, maybe 30 years old. Maybe. She’s dressed as if she’s just come home from work, and her blond hair is pulled back into a bun. Despite her aggressively professional appearance, she smiles warmly at us and invites us in with a 6-inch voice she clearly picked up in elementary school.
Enough small talk with Saskja and Wolfgang. I’m here to assess an apartment. Since Roxana isn’t here, I need to compile a mental photo book worthy of the Smithsonian. I analyze the unit like this:
- Floors: All wood, except for the bathroom’s
- Bathroom floor: Tile
- Walls: Originally white, but now off-white with age
- Long hallway with a missing ceiling lamp
First impression: Unimpressed, because I imagine most of the room’s amenities are in disrepair. Noise probably travels through walls without any problem at all.
More analysis:
- Order of rooms along the hallway:
- Tiny closet full of Saskja’s shoes (I imagine Roxana fainting when I tell her about this)
- Bathroom
- Kitchen
- Living Room
- The bedroom is through a door at the back of the living room, not connected to the hallway
- The bathroom is huge. I think it’s too big, but I make a mental note similar to the one I made after seeing the shoe closet.
- The toilet has its own corner carved out of one of the walls
- The shower is also a bathtub
- The sink is on a wall opposite the bathtub, next to the toilet nook
- I have about 5 feet between the sink and the tub.
- Saskja has a washing machine in the corner next to the tub, directly opposite the toilet
- The kitchen is big, too–about the size of my living room in Dallas. A stove, counter top and sink fit comfortably against one wall, and there’s plenty of room for a table on the opposite wall. Nice.
- The living room easily fits the standard couch, coffee table, tv stand setup on one end, and it would easily fit a desk and my guitar on the other end.
- The bedroom is just barely wide enough for a queen bed, and there’s no closet.
- The walls are solid cement
Refined First Impression: Pretty luxurious when it comes to room sizes, and the cement walls negate my first impression about noise. But why do they sacrifice bedroom space for the sake of bathroom space? I think about putting a desk in the bathroom and about what a keyboard sounds like surrounded by tile.
I’m not listening to Saskja and Wolfgang, but I’m aware of their voices while I’m scanning the place. I do, however, pick up one of Wolfgang’s phrases clearly:
“…ein Amerikaner und eine Mexikanerin!”
“Oh, wow!” says Saskja.
“Ja!”
I smile and get back to scanning.
After a few more minutes, Wolfgang is behind me.
“Do you have any questions about the place?”
“No, I think I understand it pretty well,” I smile back.
“Really? No questions?” he and Saskja are both very surprised. I wonder what it’s like when Germans view apartments.
“No, it looks good. I’ll talk about this with Roxana tonight. Can I call or email you to let you know what we think?”
A bit apprehensive, Wolfgang replies “Um, yes. But please try to tell me what you think by tomorrow afternoon. As you can imagine, finding and apartment in Munich is very difficult. We have, uh, many interested people.”
“Sure thing!” I grin obliviously.
***
I’m looking across the dinner table at a curious Roxana and an absolutely baffled Sergio.
“What do you mean, you’re not sure it’s worth it? Tell the guy you’re interested,” he says in an absolutely baffled manner. “It’s in a good location?”
“Yeah.”
“And it has a separate rooms?”
“Yeah.”
“Tell him you’re interested.”
“Yeah, you should call him,” urges Roxana, “and at least say we’re interested. At the least, we can see it again and if we don’t want it, then it’s no big deal.”
“Okay, deal,” I say, reaching for my cell phone.