The Sad Quest for Internet in Germany

A household with no internet is a household cut off from the world. Governments used to provide radios to households, so if there was a disaster or, if you're in Eastern Europe, the Russians were invading, they could let everyone know.

That's not always the case with the internet.

Living in Europe, a continent that has been marching towards integration for decades, you might delude yourself into the notion that internet in Hungary is similar to internet in Germany. Well, nothing could be farther from the truth.

Internet In Hungary

In Budapest, I went to the UPC internet store and gave them my address with some money. A few days later a man came to my flat, installed the internet, made sure it worked, and then left. I had amazing internet speeds for 20€ a month.

Internet in Germany

In Dusseldorf, I went to the store and gave the man my address, with some money. I was told it would take two weeks and another man would call to arrange an appointment to either bring the modem and install it or just drop off the router. It costs 35€ a month.

Two weeks later, no phone call, no appointment, no internet. Also, no customer service, just a machine that eats up your pre-paid minutes as you wait for an operator to pick up who never picks up.

Kata, who I now dub the Internet Whisperer, steps in. She goes back to the shop for answer and also waits on the phone line to find out there is no mechanic man visiting. They did, however mail the modem, but it didn’t make it for some reason.

They mail the modem again. It doesn’t make it into our mailbox, but it does arrive at the art gallery downstairs.

We pick in the modem and unleash the internet! 

It turns out the modem is not so good for providing internet, but it’s great for giving off excessive heat. So much so that we shut it off occasionally to cool it down. The internet is also weak, just a bar or two, at least it's a good space heater – the Russian could shut off the gas at any time, after all.

The Internet Whisperer calls Unitymedia again – a month after I optimistically walked into the Unitymedia store that very first time – and arranges for a mechanic to visit. I’m told the mechanic will visit the flat some time between 8:30am and 4pm. Guess who’s working from home all day.

The mechanic arrives, changes a couple of wires and splitters in the basement and in the flat and then in the basement again. Now we have three bars of internet in Germany, the economic heart of Europe.

Ideas that never became blog posts

When it comes to writing posts for this blog, I am ruthless. About half the posts I write never get past the draft phase. The posts die for many reasons. They wander off, without a point or theme – which is important for me – or I didn't like how they turn out and shelf them indefinitely. 

Whether the death is slow or quick, there's usually a kernel of an idea that brought about the draft phase in the first place. That idea that drove the dead posts often remain in my head, waiting to come out.

Here are a few ideas that did not die with their post, but still wait to come out.

Politics

During my stay in Hungary, an EU commission accused the Hungarian government of eroding its democratic institutions, there was a national election, and the prime minister called for an “illiberal state” based on Russia or Turkey. Lots of juicy stuff to write about.

Hungary never had genuine democratic institutions until the 1990s. Before that it was dictators, kings, and emperors. It takes time for democracy to take root and grow. Right now, this government is pursuing a nationalist agenda in spite of the economic and political consequences. It is not tragic. It is a part of a process every country goes through as they build a civil society. The real tragedy would be the day the Hungarian people quit seeking and defending their own democratic institutions. Happily that isn't happening.

There is a lot to say and, as a non-Hungarian speaker, I always felt I was never get the full story. As a guy with a political science degree, it always stuck in my craw that I couldn’t clearly elucidate even one political post about Hungary. Maybe some distance will help in the coming months.

No normal jeans

I only had a few weeks to wrap up the loose ends of my life in Toronto before I set off for Budapest. Buying new blue jeans did not make the list at the time, but if I could do things over again I would have brought a couple of pairs.

This isn’t the Cold War. Blue jeans are as common in the old East Bloc as they are in the West. All the jeans here happen to be very tight. I looked in several malls for a decent pair. These weren’t baggy pants with 30-inch openings I was looking for, just jeans that are a little looser in the legs, crouch, and ass. Not a big deal, or you would think.

The search got so desperate that I even asked a friend from Canada who was coming to visit to get a pair for me. He got hit by a car on the shopping trip, so I got no jeans and he got a trip to the ER (he’s fine... now).

My search eventually ended at a skate store in a Budapest, where I bought the baggiest pair I could find. How baggy were they? My sister laughed at them when she was visiting, saying I looked weird in skinny jeans.

Fröccs

A while back, I wrote about Hungary as an incredible wine country and my utter lack of any wine knowledge. After spending two summers visiting the beaches, bars, and patios of Budapest and Lake Balaton, I have a new wrinkle to add to that.

It’s fröccs, the ultimate spending-a-day-drinking-on-a-patio drink. Fröccs is wine and carbonated water. Admittedly, I’m no wine snob, so I won't gasp at mixing water with wine. I’ve also mixed carbonated water with whiskey for years -- Whiskey Pop! These sorts of drinks are bubbly and tasty, but also keep you hydrated enough to avoid the brutal hangovers that are the norm when you’re over 30.

The trick is ordering a fröccs with the desired wine to water ratio. This way, you stay hydrated as you drink away the afternoon, evening, night, and possibly morning.

Marshall's Lazy Guide to Froccs.

Settling into the Dorf

That dull view at the office.

Getting a German work permit isn’t so hard if you put in your time. Time spent lumbering through government offices. Time spent getting forms stamped, then signing here and here.  Of course, putting in your time waiting to do all of that signing and stamping.

While I was waiting to get some forms stamped or signed or whatever, I mentioned to the HR person with me that I had been affectionately calling my new city the Dorf among friends. She looked shocked. You can’t call it that, she said. Dorf means village, you see, and other Dusseldorfers, being very proud and posh people, would not appreciate having their city called a village.

So, here I am in a land with little sense of irony. That will be one of the biggest things I will have to adjust to, and watch out for.

Moving to Budapest was an adjustment, but it was not too hard for me in some ways. I liked the food, I found the people nice, and it was a beautiful city. I worked hard at the language and got to a level where I could function the basic day-to-day tasks. I went to punk rock shows, hiked in the hills, and drank fröccs on the patios.

Moving to Dusseldorf has been like hitting the reset button. Once again I am confronted with a befuddling language – I never thought I’d wish for the familiarity of Hungarian. That will likely be the first and only time you read that from a foreigner. It’s a different culture, both in the ad agency and out in the real world.

The upside is that Dusseldorf is pretty, and there's an old town that is essentially filled with bars and pubs and beer halls. It’s also a little cloudier here and a little colder, but the welcome from the people here has been warm.

Then there’s the job. I don’t talk much shop here, but I’ll take a moment to get into it because I came to the Dorf for a job. I will be working on a global account again, like the gig in Budapest, so it is a great professional opportunity. I’m three weeks in and I know it will have its fair share of challenges, but I am excited about it.

While I’m still missing my Canadian people and my new friends in the East, being in the Dorf opens up a whole lot of adventures in strange places. I can’t help but be a little excited about that.

A bit of sun brings the Dorfers flocking to the Rhine. 

The might Rhine!

The Stademuseum's backyard pond.