Pillows and pans

When deciding whether to move to Hamburg or Paris we took into consideration all the things one should think about when deciding to switch continents for a few years - which city we thought we'd be happier in, which would provide a higher quality of life, the relative merits of the job offers (or -ahem- theoretical job offers), and the quality of pastries in both cities. We chose Hamburg because it made the most sense in all respects and it just felt right, though it also felt a bit off-kilter to turn down Paris. (We made the right decision, but seriously - how do you turn down Paris?) Regardless, once we decided on Hamburg for all the right reasons, I checked just to make sure it had an Ikea.

I know, what city doesn't have Ikea? But I have an unnatural affection for Ikea, in all its blue and yellow silly Swedish glory. I think it may be because my first-ever non-hand-me-down bed came from there, bunk beds with pink sheets that were the best thing ever when I was seven. I know for many people Ikea is torture - from the giant windowless store with the labyrinthine layout to the cryptic instructions for putting together the furniture once you get home. I love it, all of it, but especially assembling the furniture. (Just ask Zoli, who falls pretty firmly into the torture camp in all respects. He'd rather just make the furniture himself.)


When I investigated the Ikea situation in Hamburg I got two pleasant surprises. First, there are two Ikeas; second, one of the S-bahn lines goes directly to one of them! If there's one thing I love more than Ikea it's public transit. To combine the two, in the process eliminating my least favorite parts of going to Ikea (driving and parking)...be still my heart. As if that weren't enough, it just so happens that our apartment is right on the S-bahn line that goes to Ikea. One of the first weeks we were here I was passed on the sidewalk at the train station by a woman riding her bicycle with a kitchen sink from Ikea under her arm. It's fate, I tell you.

So then why, exactly, did it take me until this week, six months to the day after we arrived in Hamburg, to make it to Ikea? Well, we're renting a furnished apartment; we've been on one income so we have been trying to not spend so much; and we just didn't really need enough to justify a full-on Ikea trip. But finally this past week we reached a critical mass of things we were unable to find elsewhere and decided to go to Ikea.


Aside from being able to take the train there, excessive Ikea ads in the train station and everything being in German, it was much like any other Ikea trip. It seems that here the thing to eat in the cafe is the hot dog rather than the meatballs - I tried to talk Zoli into getting one but he was dead set on getting out of there as quickly as possible. I thoroughly enjoyed the whole trip. Zoli not so much - but he made it out intact, and now (after cooking with our new cast iron pan, sleeping on his new pillow and admiring his fabric for a tool kit) agrees that it was quite successful.


The only things missing were furniture to assemble, a sink and a bicycle on which to carry it. Maybe next time.