POTTY PROBLEMS - GERMAN TOILETS

I’m sure you heard about the debacle with the Sochi Olympic toilets. (In case you are one of the few who have not, then here is a refresher for you: http://deadspin.com/a-users-guide-to-the-bizarre-toilets-of-sochi-1516518904)

Sochi Olympics Toilet

My questions are: Do you have to pay to use them? Do the toilets have presentation shelves for you to “view da poo”? If not, these folks need to quit their beefin’. They got nothin’ to complain about. Let’s talk German toilets.

* Disclaimer:  Germany truly does have some of the cleanest and nicest potties around. And I know that those of you who have traveled more extensively than I can impart horror stories about toilets abroad that will make anyone’s stomach turn. This is just my take on my little slice of the planet. And it’s just for fun!

Pay to Poo:

I hope you brought your change with you, ‘cause you gotta pay to play. In Germany, it is a common practice to charge to use public toilets. It usually costs .50 € (about .75 cents) to use the facilities. I have a sneaking suspicion that this price is regulated by the government and enforced by the Poop Po-Po.

Toilet Attendant

Some of the restrooms have attendants who sit beside a little money tray, where you leave your change. Based on the varying amounts of coins I have seen on the tray, I think these toilets run on a guilt system, because the person that cleans up after you is sitting right there making you feel guilty that she has such a shitty job. I mean, really, can we ever pay her enough?

Although I have seen varying amounts in the tray, from .20 € to 2 €, I always leave .50 € because I am afraid of what might happen if I leave less, and I would feel awkward if I put in a Euro and tried to get change back.

In my opinion, the scarier toilets are the ones with the turnstile entry. OMG, it feels like you are entering a prison potty.

County lock-up? No! German toilet!

Really, Germany? You are going to impede someone from doing their business because they don’t have .50 €? These turnstiles are imposing for several reasons: As a non-native who is unused to this concept of “pay to play,” I am rarely prepared for the event: 

1) Sometimes I forget to address the urge when it first comes upon me; therefore, I am in potty-panic mode when I am greeted by the turnstiles; 

2) The panic intensifies when I realize that I didn’t bring any change; 

3) Even though I now know how the drill goes, I am still always a little daunted when I see the tee-tee turnstiles.

Now, in the interest of fairness, not all turnstiles look like the one above. Many of them look quite inviting, like you are at Six Flags about to get on a great ride.

A Happy Place

You just need to buy your ticket! Some of the tickets are actually vouchers that you can use at a sponsored store.

   

Store Voucher

Tip: Poop or pee before you buy, so you can use your voucher!

The pay-off is that public toilets are well-maintained and clean. I would say that generally the public toilets here do seem cleaner than the ones in the U.S., but I’m question whether it’s worth the money if you aren’t sitting anyway. It’s a hassle to constantly remember to have change with you in case nature calls. It’s stressful when you don’t have the correct change and you have to poo. Suddenly, you are stranded, and your pee-pee dance and distressed expression reveal your story to all.

The Home Team:

But it’s not just the public toilets that are different from U.S. toilets. Go into any German home-improvement store, any department store, or even a furniture store, and you will find myriad selection of toilet brushes. It is toilet-brush heaven here. The photos below are from Obi, which is like a Home Depot. These are all the brushes in one Obi store near our house!

 

There is a reason for this.

Some German toilets, such as the one in my master bathroom, have a “presentation shelf.”

Yes, you read correctly. The poo does not slip seamlessly into the water with a resounding “plunk”; it rests on a shelf so that you may review it before you flush. Why might you want to review your poo? Well, if you eat a lot of pork, like the Germans do, perhaps you would like to review it for worms! To date, that is the only explanation I have been able to uncover, but my German friends may be able to offer a different explanation.

Reminder: "Clean is good"   

Peek-A-Boo (at McDonald's)

So, after you review your work and flush, you will then need one of those toilet brushes I told you about. Keep it clean, people!

Men's Room (at hair salon)

Women's Room (at hair salon)

Men's Urinals (at roadside toilets)

Reminder to Dogs: Rein ist fein!

DAY 2 AND BEYOND - EVERYDAY CHALLENGES

Wasser [Water] Woes, Part 1: The Hot Water Heater 

Our first week here was full of excitement and anticipation. There were so many things to do to execute the move, yet we were somewhat paralyzed because we could not move in to our home until our furniture arrived from the U.S. Fortunately, our shipment arrived swiftly, and we were had our move-in about a week after our arrival. The excitement of the move quickly dissipated when we found we had no hot water! What to do?!

Well, of course, the first thing to check is the water heater, to ensure it was on. A simple task, eh? Maybe if you served in the engine room of a WWII destroyer! 

Our Furnace/Wasser Heater

Have you ever seen such a thing in an American home? We could see from the records that the furnace had been serviced in June, so it must be a simple fix, such as a flip of the switch. But which switch should we flip?

New to the country with the most minimal of language skills, we were initially hesitant to call anyone for help. We didn’t want to look foolish if it was as easy as that. So we studied the buttons, dials, and knobs. We translated the words to no avail. We were stumped and getting sick of cold showers.

After a few days of cold showers and staring at the furnace in hopes of an enlightenment that never came, we attempted to contact our landlord to explain our situation; however, he was not returning calls. Now, this was a problem. 

Fun Fact: August is the month that just about everyone in Germany goes on holiday.

And that is exactly what our landlord was doing. He was getting back to nature in the Swabian Albs, with no phone connectivity.

Now, in the U.S., you would probably never even notice if the owner of a shop or business went on vacation, because the shop would remain open and staffed and the owner would be available in dire circumstances. But here in Germany, many businesses lock up tight like a hurricane’s coming (sans boards). You can really feel the difference! 

Eventually, we took action and called the company that had previously serviced the furnace. They sent over a team, one of whom spoke excellent English. The furnace was, in fact, broken, and there was nothing we could have done except call the repairman. Speculation was that some severe storms had come through after the June servicing and fried the board and a few other things. They made the repairs, billed our landlord, and life was back on track, until . . .

Wasser [Water] Woes, Part 2: The Dryer

Shortly after moving in, and concurrent with my previously described “wasser woe,” we bought a European washer and dryer. I’d had the European-style set previously many years ago when I had lived in The Netherlands. Back then, a front-load washer was quite an oddity to most Americans, but both washer and dryer gave me no problems. 

German dryer? Kein problem!

This, combined with the fact I already had been using Texas-sized front-loader back in the States for quite some time, left me feeling pretty expert about the whole thing. I didn’t even give it a second thought, other than to wonder what the different points on the dial meant.

After several instances of success washing and drying, I was quite surprised one day when I found a wet load of clothes in the dryer. “Hmmm, I thought I had pressed the Start button. Oh, well, I’ll do it again.” The dryer started up without a hitch, but when I returned to the basement, the load was no dryer than the first time I had put it in. Well, that isn’t cool. I noticed a small, red light on the control panel labeled, “Behälter.” “Behälter” means “container,” according to Google Translate. Clearly there was something wrong with the container. Perhaps the load was off balance, though I’d not seen that in a dryer. I opened the door, shifted the semi-soggy laundry about, reset the controls, and hit Start. As before, the dryer started up as it should, but within a minute, the cycle had stopped and the “Behälter” light was again lit. Think, think, think… Aha! I must have overloaded the tiny dryer drum. Though it was a rather small load, I dutifully removed everything except a few pairs of socks and some undies, reset the dial and hit Start. Same result. What the heck? I re-cleaned the lint catcher, which I do after every load anyway. I translated all the dial options and tried every one. I would go downstairs several times a day and attempt different combinations of settings, but always with the same discouraging results. The angry little red “Behälter” light glared at me in a stare-down that I was bound to lose. Who has time for this? 

A reenactment of my despair

As load after load of clean clothes came out of the washer, I had to hang everything up on the more-than-ample amounts of clotheslines that covered the laundry area. All those heavy clothes hanging ominously over me put me in a state of despair. I actually cried one day. Now, that may sound melodramatic (and it was), and those of you who know me are probably surprised by this, but I think everyone can relate to a time in life when it seemed everything seemed a challenge, and, even though you knew it was just a temporary setback, you were pushed to your breaking point. That’s where I was. I remember thinking, “I gave up a successful career, and now I’m doomed to beating clothes against rocks!” Poor me!

I really couldn’t believe that my new dryer was broken, but we had just experienced the furnace being broken, and it had been well maintained. Once again, I was faced with whether to call someone, and if so, who? The store? A repairman? Bosch? Processes are different here, and I had no idea what option was the best. How much would it cost me? And, constantly interacting with the natives was an exhausting experience at this point. (I say this with no offense to the Germans, because we have found them to be most helpful and understanding of us.) 

You may be thinking that I should look up the problem on the Internet. In the U.S., I would do just that. However, there were Internet issues that were compounding my life as well. At the time, I was relegated to Internet on my phone, and I wasn’t feeling like doing detailed research on a tool not much bigger than my hand. Eventually, my desire to escape my laundry prison outweighed my avoidance of tiny print, and I discovered the key!

I always thought that a dryer was a pretty simple thing, especially compared to the washer. Pretty much other than the timer, the dryer is all about the heat, right? 

Fun Fact: As usual, German dryers are more advanced than most U.S. ones.

Doing laundry German-style

Modern German dryers do not discharge air through hose/vent system. These new-fangled dryers use an air-cooled condensing coil that draws out the water and collects it in a container (behälter), which must be emptied out once full! Who knew? 

Giddy with excitement, I dragged my hubby Arnie with me to share in the potential resolution. I easily found the so-called behälter, and it was, in fact, filled to the brim with wasser! Freed from its water-logged existence, the dryer was up and running again. Problem solved!      

DAY 1 (Sunday, 04 AUG 13) - THE ARRIVAL

We arrived at the Stuttgart airport late in the evening after a long layover at Heathrow (England). We wrangled all 15 of our bags off the carousel, piled them high on the carts we purchased for one Euro each, and headed to the car rental counter. Stuttgart is a moderately sized airport, so it was relatively easy to maneuver, though the same can’t be said for the European carts. Anyone who has lived in Europe knows what I’m talking about, and anyone who hasn’t can duplicate the European cart experience at his or her local Ikea. 

Car keys and rental agreement in hand, Arnie positioned me in a strategic location with the baggage carts, as he and Austin went ahead to scout for the car, a large BMW station wagon.

Loaded up and ready to roll ...
sans passengers!

As you can see, all the luggage fit. But what about us??? Now what???

Fortunately, when I was in Stuttgart previously to house-hunt, I had the opportunity to ride the trains. Emboldened by this experience, I suggested that Arnie head to the house to stow the cargo, and Austin and I would make our way via train to our soon-to-be-home-station, where Arnie could pick us up. What a great idea! With all of our phones on their last bits of power, splitting up at nightfall in a country where we don't speak the language and don't have a clue about their protocols sounded like a fine idea! And that's just what we did!

Not wanting to lug those baggage carts back in to the airport, we gave them away to a fella who was struggling with his own bags and looked like he could really use a cart. He offered pay us, but we wouldn’t take any money from him. He looked very surprised, and it was genuinely memorable to us how pleased he seemed to be for this little kindness! (A few weeks later, we discovered why he was so happy. You will, too, in a later post!)

Without those pesky carts slowing us down, we were ready to get started on our German adventure! We made a backup plan to meet at a predetermined station every 15 minutes to ensure we would eventually find one another, and off we went – Arnie in the baggage-laden auto, and Austin and I back in the terminal to catch the train.

Buying a train ticket from the machine takes a bit more time when you don’t know the system or the currency, but we muddled through this with relative ease. As we headed down the steps to the platform, a train arrived! What timing! But was it the right train? “No worries,” I told Austin, “Let’s don’t rush this; we'll catch the next train. It'll be along in a few minutes.” While we waited for the next train, we studied the rail maps to get a handle on where we were going and what we need to do. We quickly discovered that we had, in fact, just missed the correct train and the next one would not arrive for 29 minutes! What?! I thought Germany was known for its fantastic rail lines! Oh, but it’s Sunday evening! Sunday – God’s day – the day everything, except gas stations and bäckereis (bakeries), are closed. As I would soon learn, this is the day when you can’t run your lawnmower, and trucks are not allowed to operate in the towns! It is actually quite a lovely thing, but at that moment, it was incredibly frustrating!

The 29-minute wait tacked on to a 24-hour game of international planes, trains, and automobiles provided time for reflection that only compounded my feelings of wistfulness, excitement, and nervousness. As we waited, I exuded a confidence and enthusiasm for the sake of my child that I really was not feeling. I was anxious; what if something went wrong with our plans, or worse, what if our backup plans failed? Arnie had given me some Euros, and I knew that many Germans could speak at least a little English, so I wasn’t panicky, but I knew that there was a possibility that the plans could unravel – that the trains might not run to our pre-determined point at this late hour – and that ultimately, we could spend hours out of contact from one another, each of us worrying and trying to anticipate what the other's next move would be. How long would Arnie continue to wait at that station? Should I take a taxi to that station, or should I head for the hotel? Arnie had told me to take a taxi to the hotel if the plans went to shit, but the taxi scenario caused further angst because I had never used a German taxi. Where would I find one? What if we couldn't communicate well? What if he took us on the scenic route? Would I have enough money? What was the tipping protocol? I really did not want to explore this taxi possibility. Not this night. I had heard the trains (and Stuttgart in general) were quite safe, but were all the lines safe? At night? We were about to find out.

Austin and I boarded the train and took our seats. I pointed out the onboard tracking system, and we both watched it attentively, careful not to miss our stop, even though the central station would be hard to miss. We de-boarded that train and moved through the central station, with me providing a primer of the train system as we hurriedly made our way to our destination platform. The U15 was not running to our station that night, but we boarded it anyway, knowing it would get us closer. 

As the train worked its way out of the city and up the steep hills, we were able to relax a bit and look around. It was night, but we were still in the city, so we could still see buildings, shops, and people. Tired as we were, I was eager to show Austin something non-Texasy and exciting. "Oh, look!" I said as we approached the Olgaeck stop, "A casino! You won't see one of those in the middle of a U.S. town." As my eyes moved over the shop-worn front of the modest casino, it was the neon of the shop next to the casino that suddenly caught my eye.

A representative photo -
Olgaeck's neon is way sexier

It had caught Austin's eye, too, though he wasn't saying a word. How could he miss the shapely neon outline of the nekked lady - nips and all! - and the flowing cursive word "sex" in a color that can only be described as you-are-going-straight-to-hell-red! 

"Well," I said, evenly, "you won't see one of those on every street corner in the U.S., either!" 

After a brief, one-way discussion about prostitution being legal in Germany, the awkward conversation faded as the train continued its ascent, and I pondered the effect Germany - with its young drinking age and legalized prostitution - might have on my young man. This day was getting longer by the minute! 

Shortly thereafter, the train finally reached the end of the line, we de-boarded and found Arnie easily. Somehow, despite my fears and the minor challenges of the day, everything had worked out nicely. We had safely flown across two continents and an ocean, all our luggage was intact, and we were together again!

I don’t remember the drive to the hotel, the details of the check-in, nor the dragging of bags and ourselves up to the room, but I know that falling into those beds and into the solid, deep sleep that comes from jet lag was the perfect ending to a long and exciting day and the perfect start for our new adventure in Deutschland!