The joys of moving in the middle of a pandemic.

You may have noticed, that after my last post about hitting myself on the chin with a door and crying, I have been taking a little break from blogging. Although it hasn’t felt like a break at all, let me tell you. Ever since my boyfriend got his first full time job and we officially became a two income household, I have been browsing the rental sites, day-dreaming about our future home.

(Before we go any further: these are the pictures of our OLD apartment. I am still getting our new apartment photoshoot-ready. Another post will follow soon)

And one day at the beginning of April, when the pandemic was hitting Europe in full force, I ran across an add: beautifully furnished apartment, close to us, and within our price range. “Why not?” I thought to myself. We ended up getting a viewing in which masks were worn, distance was kept, and hands were not shaken.

That apartment ended up not being the one… but it opened my eyes to a very particular trait of this pandemic: It made the Munich rental market somehow more… manageable? In the past I hardly ever got responses to my emails, and when I did, I was then invited to a mass viewing where all of these blond rich german couples competed to show the landlord who had more money, who was nicest, who would stay in this apartment until the end of their days.

Intimidating? I’d say so.

But with the pandemic, the market was much slower. People were not looking to move, landlords weren’t able to be as picky and… (and my favourite) mass viewing were ACTUALLY ILLEGAL. So I saw an opportunity, and the remaining days of our isolation, became a haze of browsing online, writing emails, going to viewings and having too many late night conversations weighing the pros and cons of apartments we had been offered.

I knew finding a new apartment would be stressful, but I hadn’t anticipated just how much it would affect me. It led to many nights crying, unsure of what to do… fearing passing out an opportunity, but knowing deep inside that we could do better. To doubting myself and my ability to make decisions without second guessing myself. To me actually fearing weekends (usually we’d get offered apartments then), and having to face yet another decision. Heck, it led me to booking my first therapy session…

But somehow we made it through. I pushed for long enough (roughly two months), and declined enough perfectly good apartments (6?), until we visited this apartment on a Friday evening, and already at the view of the entry, I knew I wanted it. There it was: that gut feeling, that confidence in saying “this is the one I got”. Was I still stressed for the following 15 days? Of course. First I was stressed we wouldn’t get it, then I was stressed our previous landlord wouldn’t let us leave, then I was stressed it was all a scam… And now… now we live here… and I am happy.

I have learned a lot about myself. About my fear of failure, my anxiety. I have learned to reach out and ask for professional help when needed. And I have also learned that my intuition is still there. After all these weeks of talking myself down and telling myself I was being too picky, too spoiled, too difficult… I wasn’t, I was being patient. Knowing something better was just around the corner.