Changing my confession

I bear remarkable news! A miracle has happened! I signed a contract for an apartment today.

Now it is not the perfect apartment and I will have quite some work to do with it, but it kind of fits my budget and size ideas, it is located very centrally for Hamburg, it is by the water, has a balcony and is right next to the metro. You might know how terribly intolerant I am to walking 10 minutes to the metro station. It is in a decent part of town, the posh part begins a few metres away but my street is still for normal people. Because Gärdet got me used to it, it is the infrastructural desert but that’s okay because if I lived on the street with all the Scandinavian shops, I would be broke in no time.


I got the apartment through – surprise! – the church. I am starting to consider changing my confession and converting to the Swedish Church. Pragmatically speaking, the Swedish Church has given me better results in 5 weeks than the Catholic Church in 26 years. But faith is not about practical matters (otherwise kneeling would have been abolished) so DON’T WORRY GRANDPA I will of course not convert. I had put up a note in the church as well and a soprano from my choir saw it and called me. Her only condition was that I buy and take over all her furniture which is still less expensive than paying a real estate agent so I agreed. Now I own two trucks of furniture. Anyone needs three beds, four sofas or two kitchens?

My soon-to-be-hood

My soon-to-be-hood

It will be funny to leave my big church apartment again. I really enjoy when people stare at me as I walk into the church that is locked (but I know the code). I think it is hilarious how I go down to the Sunday service and the pastor, fully dressed in his robe, says before entering the church, “Did you see you got mail?” And of course I love how I can get cheap sunday breakfast and real Swedish fika in the church’s cafe two stairs down.

Also, I must have the nicest landlord ever: not God (because the church was sold) but the current owner. I was still trying to figure out why a person is that nice when he jumped from his chair in his office this morning to exchange my bathroom light bulb. My boss actually thinks I will wind up in this place because I speak so fondly of it. But then I look at the color of the couch and the condition of the carpet and know I won’t. I will move, again, and I am looking forward to coming to up with a Facebook-check-in-name together with Magdalena.


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