As I’ve said before, if you grow up in Germany, you can forget about going to college and toiling away at your studies in order to acquire a fancy professional degree. Why? You’ll make no money as a white-collar worker! Professional fees such as those charged by attorneys and accountants are heavily regulated, so these poor saps make about 10 bucks an hour after taxes, I’d say. But the blue collar workers? They are RAKING IN THE DOUGH. BIG TIME.

Here is a perfect example. We asked for a quote to pave our small driveway, which covers about 100m2 (1000ft2). It’s simple, it’s flat, it’s square. Our labor quote… that is, excluding materials (which run about EUR 2,000 in our case), and EXCLUDING THE 19% SALES TAX….. was (drum roll………) EUR 10,000. *GASP! CHOKE! BARF!** Assuming about 35 man hours of work (and that’s giving them plenty of time for cigarette, beer, and poker breaks), that’s THREE HUNDRED EUROS PER HOUR, just for labor. Wow, why go to college when you can make EUR 300 per hour tossing stones in a straight line and pushing around some dirt?

So, to summarize, this little stretch of driveway, all inclusive, would be running us – in dollars – nearly $20,000. My Dad helpfully pointed out that this is nearly more than the value of the cars resting on it. Thanks, Dad.

In reviewing our labor quote, I noticed that for a tiny, uninspired, one-level step of about 2 square meters, we were being charge no less than TWO THOUSAND EUROS in labor. Do I have “Rich, Dumb Idiot” written all over my head? Why, Yes I Do. I mean, even *I* could design and build a totally tricked-out step, paved in gold and jewels with perhaps an adjacent koi pond and an Italian fountain, for a lot less than EUR 2,000.

So I took another look at the little earring in this contractor’s ear. What I thought was just some tacky costume jewelry suddenly became a karat-and-a-half diamond stud courtesy of all the rich dummies in Hamburg who aren’t doing the math.

I was also tipped off to the injustice of the labor system when the 25-year-old guy who treated and painted our ceilings (hardly a highly-technical field of work), for wayyyy more than I thought we should have paid, showed up in a great big BMW. Uh huh. I see. Drop out of school, get a Beemer. Alles klar.

On the upside, thanks to the Herculean efforts of my soon-to-be-husband and his energetic and generous dad, we got the entire interior of our house painted without lining the pockets of all the Ferrari-driving painters in Hamburg. That makes me feel a lot better! (Hauke, we owe you one!)

(And may I loudly shout “Thank you!” to my homegirl Kirstan who saved my life and future marriage by helping me pick the remaining colors for our house before Soenke sent me on a one-way ticket back to California!)

So in 3 weeks, Soenke and I say goodbye to our first apartment together.. the place where our baby spent her first months… my first abode in Europe… a place of many happy memories… and move into our new Villa with a TOTALLY TRICKED-OUT KITCHEN WITH THE BIGGEST SINK IN GERMANY (black market garbage disposal on the wayyyy…), A GIGANTIC “SUPER-SIZE-ME” BATHTUB, A PROPER BUILT-IN SHOWER WITH RIVER STONE SHOWER PAN AND STONE WALLS, TRAVERTINE IN THE UPSTAIRS BATHROOM, A DECENT TWO-SINK BATHROOM VANITY, A MASTER RETREAT (yes, my American girls will know *exactly* what I’m talking about), ITALIAN STONE FLOORING, NEUTRALLY-COLORED CARPET (no, blue is not a proper carpet color, people), BASEBOARDS, AND LIGHT FIXTURES THAT IN NO WAY INVOLVE HALOGEN LIGHTS!

HALLELUJAH! It’s a miracle that we’ve made it this far. Only took us about 14 months. As one of our not-so-mind-numbingly-expensive contractors said, “you’re bringing a piece of California to Hamburg.” Amen, brother.

Here are some photos of the work in progress. I have to admit our photo selection is really meager at the moment so I tossed in a few Sophie shots……..

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I like my rooftop window in the new office:

Soenke chats with some workers:

Our guest bathroom shower:

Sophie flies!

Taking a nap in her favorite place…

After many years of dating, Soenke’s younger brother Ole (pronounced OH-luh) finally wedded his high-school sweetheart Lena. In addition to being a fabulous family affair, here was yet another opportunity for me to experience some German traditions.

Before I continue, may I observe that there are no wedding showers in Germany. There are, however, Bachelor/Bachelorette parties (celebrated with MUCH gusto). Soenke organized his brother’s party, which involved a bunch of Ole’s rowdy soccer buddies and a trip via train to the Beck’s Brewery over in Bremen. Imagine Ole in a blonde Marilyn Monroe wig and an apron squee-gee’ing the window of a police van (no joke, the policeman even paid him a euro to do it). Later, imagine a large group of very rowdy beered-up German guys with a Beck’s inflatable guitar on the train back, singing at the top of their lungs for all the other passengers. (Yes, there’s a video documenting all this for posterity, although I don’t have it yet…).

So back to the wedding. The church was one of those absolutely gorgeous old European churches full of beautiful Louvre-quality paintings and an amazing pipe organ (think: Princess Di and Prince Charles’ wedding on a much smaller scale). Ok, so it rained, but a wedding in Hamburg wouldn’t be a wedding without precipitation. The old-fashioned mass service was spiced up by snappy a capella music, courtesy of a somwhat incongruous all-black, all-male trio. Sophie enjoyed the music and the ceremony so much that she copiously spit up all over her darling ensemble and all the way down Mommy’s bare arms. Thankfully she was the one quiet baby in the church, so she could spit up all she wanted as far as I was concerned.

The reception was near the Elbe River and was 100% exuberant. The normally very-reserved Northern Germans are a lot more fun after you pour a couple of drinks in them. I spent most of the reception on baby-duty in a side room, since Sophie was totally overwhelmed by the density and volume (and steadfastly refused any other loving arms). I was happily joined by another couple with a son about Sophie’s age, and we took turns watching the little nuggets sleep and one-upping each other with sleep-deprivation stories.

This wedding marked a turning point for me in my journey towards speaking the German language: people did not automatically switch to English when I spoke German. This somewhat shocked me, and on occasion I said “don’t you want to speak English?” The answer was invariably “Why? Your German is fine”, at which point my eyes would widen and I wondered how much Soenke paid them to say that. Because, if there is one thing I know in life, my German is decidedly NOT fine. My vocab is painfully limited. My words are COMPLETELY out of order. My conjugations are so bad, they hardly qualify as conjugable. But I somehow manage to communicate, and people aren’t laughing at me, so it appears things are progressing and I may not get kicked out of the country yet.

In the meantime, for the record I would like to comment that nursing in a strapless ballroom gown is not as easy as it appears.

Photos, photos:
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The bride and groom are admonished by the pastor:

The radiant bride:

Our happy little family!

The couple’s getaway car:

Enjoying their first dance:

Sophie allowed only one person other than her parents to hold her that night, and that was Ole’s buddy Raphael (although here she was protesting a bit…). We don’t know his secret, but he loved being the Chosen One:

Please admire the baby dress of the century: