We've left Dusseldorf. The flat has been vacated, we're registered at the Burgeramt, and a new chapter of our lives in Berlin is beginning. But, after living in the Dorf for almost five years, it would be hard, even for me, not to have learned a few life lessons there.
Stay out of the bike lane
When I was in Dresden, my local friend kept on telling me to stay out of the bike lane. What bike lane? All I saw was the sidewalk and another sidewalk right beside it with the bricks laid differently. Then a bike shot past us on the other sidewalk. Oh.
It's so easy to poke fun at the German love for bureaucracy, rules, and regulations, along with the joy some Germans have for lecturing others to abide by those rules. But, one of the upsides of this strange respect for the rules is that things run very well here. There are line-ups at the government office, but everyone waits their turn. Bridges get built. Cars roll off the assembly line. Civic life and business chug on
In fact, things go smoother when you go a bit beyond their rules. When I was applying for my permanent residence, I brought two copies of all my required papers to the government office. The official's expression brightened when she saw my filing cabinet worth of documents, and I got my permanent residence without a hitch.
You don't have to love Dusseldorf to appreciate it
Before we arrived in
Dusseldorf, we both lived in Budapest and Kata lived in Berlin, both are
exciting, bustling capital cities. Our first impression of the Dorf was a
small, dull rich person's village. Of course, first impressions are usually
biased, not entirely correct, and never
fair. Dusseldorf is a rich town, but it wasn't dull. It's an art city, with
some fantastic galleries. Its Altstadt
is a big, sloppy party place that a younger, more wild Marshall would've
appreciated. It sits on the east side of the Rhine, which makes for some lovely
sunsets. It's international, filled with people from all over the world and
restaurants serving every type of cuisine to feed them. We didn't love the Dorf, but we liked living there.
None of that exciting stuff really matters
Sometimes we craved a solid outdoor drinking spot, like what we loved in Budapest. Sometimes we wanted a great weekend program, like what we had in Berlin. It's easy to look around at any new city, and think: Well, it doesn't have these things...
Yet, day to day life in the Dorf is fantastic. You could ride your bike anywhere in the city in a half hour. The transit was mostly reliable. Our son had a great Kita, or daycare, in a park right on a pond. There was always a park nearby. There were forests and hill nearby for hiking. You could walk along the Rhine on a warm summer evening and drink a cold beer. The city was so safe that the city's "bad" neighbourhood looked like a good neighbourhood in Toronto. "Exciting" can be overrated.
Never live in the Altstadt
Just don't do it. Drink there. Shop there. Don't live there.
Don't let the big things become small
The first time I saw the Cologne Dom, I gasped in awe. I never got tired of seeing it. When I saw it lit up at night, I snapped photos like a tourist, while a Cologne friend walked by without looking at it. It was something he had grown up with, something he had gotten used to.
When I started working at my firm's Cologne office, I would get off at the main station, which is right beside the Dom, and pause to take it in. I felt so fortunate to be able to work near this architectural wonder, and I think my positive disposition about commuting to Cologne came from never taking that exposure to a world wonder for granted.
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| The Cologne Dom, one dark and foggy night. |
Most people appreciate the effort
The only people who will laugh at you for trying your piss poor
beginner German are the assholes. And who cares what they think? Most people
who endured my German were usually happy to see a foreigner make an honest
effort and would answer slowly or switch to English if the topic was important. Many Germans understand their
language isn't easy for foreigners to learn – something many
native English speakers often forget about their own language.
Friends: Quality matters more than quantity
Expats in a faraway city are often drawn to each other. There's nothing wrong with this, but some of those friendships are defined by their time and place, so you drift apart when someone moves back home. It happens. Some expats float from one country to another without making meaningful friendships that last. We've managed to maintain some of our friendships from Budapest and Berlin. In our time in the Dorf, many people have come and gone, but we've been lucky to make some quality friends. We don't have many, but the friendships we've formed are strong and meaningful, and that's probably what made Dusseldorf so livable for us.
