Trick, Treat, or Trip to the Ausländerbehörde

Germany is the Wurst No. 21

After moving into our house last year, I quickly became obsessed with two things: 1) fertilizing, seeding, re-fertilzing, re-seeding (you get the picture) the grass in our backyard and 2) obnoxiously decorating for the holidays. Fall is my favorite season and Halloween is my favorite holiday, and really, how can they not be? I love the shift in the weather from summer to fall, when the trees change colors, the smell of burning wood is in the air, and the leaves crunch beneath your feet. Kids start school again and the weather drops down to a comfortable, yet still warm, 10 degrees Celsius (that’s 50 degrees Fahrenheit, which is still considered t-shirt weather for most Wisconsinites).

While we were in the U.S. last month, my goal was to buy as many outdoor Halloween decorations as possible that would fit in my suitcase. On the day we landed back in Germany, the sun was shining, so jet-lag be damned, I started my Halloween decoration project. In my opinion, it strikes the perfect balance between attracting attention without overly annoying the neighbors. In fact, a dad on the playground told me, unprompted, that his kids noticed our Halloween decorations. That means we have officially achieved the “Halloween House” status in the neighborhood, which is quite possibly one of my proudest accomplishments since moving to Germany nine years ago.

Even though Halloween is my favorite holiday, I have to admit that I’m a pretty big scaredy-cat. Nevertheless, as part of the Halloween spirit, I got to thinking about what I consider to be really, truly horrifying about living in Germany. There are quite a few spine-chilling examples, like older couples wearing matching Jack Wolfskin jackets, Schlagerboom (except, of course, when David Hasselhof is a guest), and restaurants that accept only cash. The items on the list I’ve put together, however, scare me so much that they send me running for the covers (cue thunder clapping and lightening striking over an old haunted house):

1. Going to the Ausländerbehörde (Immigration Office) in Frankfurt

Last week, I wrote about the fact that Germans generally do not welcome new neighbors to the neighborhood and therefore, Willkommenskultur is basically more of an illusion than reality in Germany. If you still don’t believe me, just take a trip to the Ausländerbehörde in Frankfurt. This might be old news, but for a time it was completely normal for people to line up outside of the immigration office at around 4:00 or 5:00 AM, hoping to get an appointment. No wonder, as it was reported via multiple media sources that the immigration office had around 20,000 unanswered emails, presumably from people requesting appointments. The Kommunale Ausländervertreung in Frankfurt even went so far as to publicly declare the immigration office as a “Place of Terror” (Ort des Schreckens), and I can’t say I disagree. Even though I no longer live in Frankfurt, one of my main motivations for applying for German citizenship is so that I can avoid the frightening bureaucratic process of renewing my residence permit.

2. Real estate prices in the Rhein-Main Metropolitan Area

Ich wäre so gern ein Millionär, Millionenschwer… Jessica from Sprachmelodie featured this song in one of her newsletters and I was immediately taken back to high school German class. Anyway, such as Die Prinzen, I would also like to be a millionaire because not only would my bank account never be empty, but I would also be able to afford to buy a house in the Rhein-Main Metropolitan Area. Sure, you can find houses for less money that are located out in the boondocks or on an Erbpacht (property lease), but most homes that aren’t completely dilapidated and are somewhat conveniently located are extremely expensive. My husband and I got a big fright when we started our real estate search and found basically nothing on the market that was a) affordable and b) not a complete dump that we would have had to pour a few thousand Euros into. The immigration office in Frankfurt may be a scary place, but I can’t think of anything more terrifying than making a bad real estate investment.

3. Hamburgers made out of pork and beef

This culinary nightmare has largely resolved itself in recent years, but when I first came to Germany in 2011/2012, it was pretty common for restaurants to use a mixture of pork and beef to make their hamburgers. This practice baffled my beef-trained palette, as any good Wisconsinite knows that a better brand of beef makes a ButterBurger better. For a while, I was too scared to eat a hamburger in Germany, but now most restaurants indicate that they use only locally sourced beef (for the climate, of course) in their patties. Someone left a comment on my last newsletter that America is a hamburger. If that is the case, then make it 100% beef, baby.

4. When Christmas (December 25th) falls on a Monday

This seldom occurrence doesn’t really scare me, but Christmas falling on a Monday is a logistical hellscape in Germany, as the grocery stores will be closed Sunday (Heiligabend), Monday (1. Weihnachtstag) and Tuesday (2. Weihnachtstag). If Christmas is on Monday, then you will need to go grocery shopping for the next three days on Saturday, which is already the most stressful day of the week to go grocery shopping in Germany. Throw a holiday in the mix and you will be able to feel everyone’s blood pressure rising. Even though I would venture to guess that most people in an industrialized country like German have enough pantry staples to get them through three days without starving, people stock up at the grocery store like the apocalypse is upon us. And, although grocery stores may be closed, restaurants will most likely be open, so if you literally have nothing edible in your house, you could just get some take-out.

I got the heebie-jeebies just writing this newsletter. And yet, there’s still one thing that might be more terrifying than everything I’ve mentioned: a certain possible outcome of next week’s U.S. presidential election.