I had plans to meet Stefanie at the
Aside: A first in
We only had a couple of hours to spend together so we did a relatively quick walk-through of the museum. It was fun to show Stefanie around and she was immensely pleased to see John’s video. We stopped for Kaffee und Kuchen in the museum café afterwards and had a very nice chat. Unfortunately our time was cut short because Stefanie had to make it to her next class earlier than she had anticipated, but I told her that we wanted to have her over for dinner before we left and would be in touch again soon.
This afternoon I had the regrettable task of going over to the Dörrs and discussing the issue of the price of our kitchen. They had offered to purchase our kitchen from us, which was to our advantage because selling a kitchen is not an easy thing to do. You see, in
John had talked to some people at work and we had come up with the price of 1800 Euro for our 4-year-old kitchen, which we thought was quite a bargain. When I rang the Dörrs’ bell, no one answered, but Herr Dörr came to the window on my way back to our house. I told him that I wanted to discuss our kitchen and suggested our price. He immediately shook his head and said, “Nein, zu viel, zu viel.” (No, too much, too much.) Dismayed, I asked him what he thought a good price would be. He launched into a lengthy explanation about how much the Grays (the previous tenants) had paid to install the kitchen, and that we had paid one-third of that price, and that DaimlerChrysler had actually paid for our things so whatever we made off of the kitchen was basically “free money” for us. I was more than a bit annoyed that they knew all of these details about our personal finances. Finally he said that they were willing to pay us one-third of what we had paid the Grays. I was not about to try to point out the irrationality of this logic (by which our kitchen would soon be worth nothing at all), but asked instead what he thought a good price would be. He suggested something between 800 and 1000 Euro. At this point Frau Dörr appeared in the window and Herr Dörr explained the matter to her. She didn’t say much; I think she felt a little awkward about the whole thing and obviously didn’t want to get into a fight with me. Frustrated, I said that I would have to talk to mein Mann and left it at that.
This evening was the IWC’s monthly dinner, this time at an African restaurant called Ambiente in Stuttgart-Mitte. I decided to take the U-Bahn since I had long ago learned my lesson not to park in unfamiliar neighborhoods of downtown
Inside, a huge group of IWC ladies was already gathered in Ambiente’s “sand room”, where you sit on pillows on the floor and the floor is, indeed, covered with sand. Rich silk curtains shroud the walls and ceilings, warm amber lamps hang low over the tables, and you definitely get the feeling of being in a rich Bedouin tent out in the middle of the desert. Several of us shared a huge sampler platter with all sorts of interesting meat and vegetable curries, served on a delicious pancake-like flatbread. I spent most of the evening talking with a new British club member and Annette K., the woman I met at Shannon’s sushi night who spent six years in