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Well, our favorite didn’t work out because it was too small for guests and I would have had to explain to the tax office what our clothes and bed and washing machine and kitchen and dining area were doing in something officially declared office space. But the worst part was still to come: I fell head over heels in love with a street in Charlottenburg, Leonhardtstraße, which must be the greatest place to live. On a hot day last week people were outside playing with water hoses, joking with passers-by. Great cafés and restaurants and little shops. Five minutes from the S-Bahn. We spent a delightful evening there. And then to our incredible delight we found an apartment advertised in the paper on that street. 4 rooms. Over 4 m high stucco ceilings. On the first floor, the “belle etage”. Including the incredible “Beliner Zimmer” where maids used to live, in a low ceilinged room, now used for a washing machine. A shower. A kitchen with a gas stove, with a designed look. Wood floors. A gorgeous balcony onto a leafy, friendly sidewalk, with a playground up the street. For (wait for it) under 1000 euros, including everything. Simply unbelievable. We hadn’t seen anything that even came close at any price. Most of the places were ugly, over-renovated, just plain weird. We’d looked at 25 apartments or so. But then, in Leonhardtstr., there was this couple who had the appointment before us, with a very sweet little child. They’d flown in for a day or two to find a flat.

They did.

Heck, I would have given it to them, too.

But my heart is broken.

We’re both completely and utterly exhausted. Time for a vacation.

Anyway, we’re moving to Potsdam, a big flat on the third floor in a quiet street close to one of the train stations and just around the corner from Sanssouci. Helmut has really lovely colleagues living in Potsdam and Babelsberg. The lakes are great. Potsdam is attractive, and in fact may be an easier place for me to find work. A lot of research going on out here, the kinds of things I’m interested in, too. But it’s a three-quarters of an hour train ride from Helmut’s place of work, and (let’s face it) I really wanted to move to Berlin. Friedrichshain. Leonhardtstraße.

One week is way too short to find a place to live.

Who knows: Maybe Fortuna knows something I don’t.