Haresh Shah
That’s Just What I Needed To Be
Between my hasty arrival in Munich and the hastier departure next day to Düsseldorf, there wasn‘t much time to think of or look for a permanent place for me to live in Munich, which is where I would be based. The most practical thing for me to do would have been to move into Gerrit Huig’s apartment from which he had already moved out and established himself in Milan. I was his replacement in Germany with editorial based in Munich and production in Essen near Düsseldorf. Eventually I would have preferred a pièd à terre in both cities, but having taken over Gerrit’s apartment gave me a temporary reprise and perhaps a permanent one if I so wished. But soon it became apparent to me that it wasn’t a right place for me for more reasons than one. Just within the first few weeks I was awoken by the loud and harsh ringing of the phone early in the morning. On the line was Frau Westerholz – my landlady – hysterically screaming at me. She had just received the telephone bill in the amount of a couple of hundred deautsch marks, listing frequent calls to Chicago and also to Milan and Paris.
At the time, if you rented a place anywhere in Europe, you made sure that it came with a telephone already installed. It wasn’t easy to transfer it to your name and/or easily ordered and installed in a day or two like in the US. When renting a place, you just agreed to reimburse your landlord the phone charges. Took me first to shake myself awake and then assuming a milder tone, I calmed down Frau Westerholz. Telling her that soon as she handed me the bill, I would immediately transfer the funds to her account. But even otherwise, the apartment wasn’t something I aspired to. The neighbors were unfriendly, if not outright nasty. Parking was a big problem.
Hearing of my frustrations, Rainer’s wife Renate kindly offered to help find a new apartment. In Chicago I had lived in a brand new lake front apartment on the south side. A spacious one bedroom place with the glass walls and wonderful panoramic view of the South Shore Country Club and the Lake Shore Drive. It came with a swimming pool, the penthouse party room and underground garage.
‘There are many new buildings, I am sure we can find something as good for you.’ Renate assured. She made up a classified ad for me, something to the effect that a young American professional just having moved to Munich was looking for a specious two bedroom apartment. She placed the ad in Süddeautsche Zeitung, and the phone on my desk began to ring incessantly and insistently.
I must have spoken to at least half a dozen potential landlords. The rent most of them quoted was not a problem, in fact they were lower than DM 1000.- I was paying for Gerrit’s apartment. But in the end, none of them wanted to rent me their places. The composite conversation went something like this.
‘How old are you?’
‘Thirty two.’
Married? How many kids?’
‘Not married. No kids.’
‘Hum!’
‘You are single?’
‘Yes.’
‘Why do you need such a large apartment?’
‘I don’t know. I just like the feeling of space.’
‘And you said you work for Playboy magazine?’
‘Yes. Is that a problem?’
‘No. I don’t know. I need to check with my husband/wife. I will call you back later.’
Enter Tim Nater – our American editorial assistant, with whom I shared the office and who would go on to become a foreign correspondent for Newsweek. Seeing me sitting there looking frazzled, I see him raising his eyebrows, his look pointed and zoomed through his thick tortoise-shell framed glasses.
‘What’s the matter?’
‘These fucking Germans!’
‘Why? What happened?’
‘Why is it their business that I’m married with children or not? Shouldn’t it to be whether or not I have good credit and that I will pay my rent on time?’
‘It’s. You’ll find out soon enough!’
‘Well, then why they ask me those stupid questions about why a single man would want to rent a hundred square meter two bedroom apartment? As if I were planning to run a bordello or run a betting ring from there.’
‘Worst yet, heaven forbid! You may throw all those wild parties – the orgies. Horror! And disturb the peace of the law-abiding German citizens.’ Said Tim and laughed. ‘Tell me exactly what happened?’
So I tell him.
‘Okay, I got it. Look, this is Germany and its unusual for a single man even wanting or having a one bedroom apartment. Majority of them live in studios — einzimmer wohnung. Plus it doesn’t help that you’re a foreigner and speak German with a funny accent. It probably doesn’t bode well that you work for the “porno” magazine Playboy! But don’t worry, we’ll find something good for you.’
‘Thanks Tim. Fuck it! I’m going to go out and get something to eat and have a stein of Paulaner.’
‘Go ahead. I’ll answer your calls.’
●●●
‘I think you may have found just the right place. Perhaps even better.’ Tim informs me soon as I have returned.
‘Tell me!’
‘A lady called. Frau von Liebe. She owns a brand new apartment – two bedrooms, balcony all around, spacious 100 + square meters. And they have Olympic size swimming pool and full sauna. The rent is DM 900.-. Hope it’s within your budget?’ At the exchange rate of DM 3.50 to a dollar, it is a steal.
‘Sounds really good. Let’s call her back.’
‘No. Let’s wait until she calls back. I told her that Herr Doktor Shah ist bei mittags essen. Rufen sie mal bitte an in etwa eine stunde — and then he winks at me — you don’t want to seem too eager!’
‘Okay. But What’s that Herr Doktor shit?’
‘That would put to rest the question of why a single man needs two bedroom place. You know how it is? In this country, titles mean a lot!’
So we wait. When the phone rings, Tim picks it up. Guten tag. Leitung von Herr Doktor Shah!
I hear a muffled female voice escaping from the receiver.
‚Ja, er ist schon wieder da. Eine kleine moment bitte.‘
‚Herr Doktor Shah?‘
‚Am aparat. Guten tag frau von Liebe!‘
And we talk. I answer her questions and give her pertinent information about myself and me working for an American company in partnership with one of the top German publishing groups, Bauer Verlag — the publishers of Quick and Neue Revue. I skip mentioning Playboy, just in case. Tim must have done a good PR job of building me up, for she doesn’t ask me any offensive questions about my single status. We agree to meet the next morning.
It’s a gorgeous late winter early spring day in Munich. I pull up in front of Johannclanzestrasse 49, in my shining like a newly minted penny, white Buick Skylark. Since the building is on my left hand side, I just cross the street sideways and park the car right near the front door, facing wrong way.
Frau von Liebe, a mild-mannered elderly lady with short curly blonde hair emerges from behind the glass door. Before greeting me with Herr Doktor Shah, her giving my Buick up and down doesn’t escape me. I could just hear her saying to herself, alles klar!!
Its a spacious glass covered corner unit with a wrap around balcony in which the bedroom, kitchen, living room and the second bedrooms all open. With the floors heated, no radiators to block placing of the furniture. The place is doused in abundance of natural light. It is a couple of neighborhoods removed from the city center, nearer to the outer Mittlererring – but has everything I would have wished for, including underground garage parking space . I could just imagine the fun I would have living there.
© Haresh Shah 2012
Illustration:Jordan Rutherford
Next Friday, January 4, 2013
TIMES THEY ARE A CHANGIN…
Silly as silly can be is how I think of all the legal battles and censorship and restrictions on books, movies and all other art forms. How can Playboy be an exception? I share with you some outlandish, bizarre but funny episodes from around the world.
playboy stories 