Let me begin by saying I love our apartment here in Hannover, Germany. I love it! My wife did a spectacular job finding us the perfect living space in the perfect neighborhood. I’ve been living here since September and I have no complaints whatsoever. No complaints, that is, except one: the shower.
There is no fan in our bathroom. You see that window in the picture above? It doesn’t open. See that fan-looking hole on the right? That’s not a fan; it’s a simple duct connected to each apartment in our building from the ground floor all the way up to the top. It is the reason we catch whiffs of cigarette smoke drifting into our apartment from time to time. (I suspect it comes from those old, sour-faced cancer-donkeys living beneath us.)
Without proper ventilation, our bathroom fogs up something fierce whenever one of us takes a shower. To compensate, The Wife and I plug an oscillating fan into the wall and set it precariously on top of the medicine cabinet. It doesn’t do much for the condensation on the mirror, but it does a fantastic job of reminding me I will someday be electrocuted as I scrub my pink parts.
Not only is our shower stall tiny, but it has no shower curtain; only the cold, unforgiving sliding glass walls you see in the picture above. Before arriving in Germany, I never realized how much space I really need in order to cleanse my American body. I mean, I knock my elbows into everything. The sliding walls, tiles, mirror, bottle racks, shower handle… I’m like the Tasmanian Devil in there.
And there is this one special moment — it happens during every shower — when my vision goes red and I experience a perfect, poetic sort of blind rage. It’s after I have managed to smash my extremities into every single object around me. After I have dropped my razor for the third time, bent over to retrieve it and knocked a bottle rack from the wall with my forehead, sending my wife’s girly hair products clattering to the floor. It’s right when I am standing back up, about to take a deep breath and count to ten… when I bonk the back of my head against the hot water controller.
Instantly, scalding hot water sears my flesh and sends me up to Rage Level: Bill O’Reilly (Warning, video contains awesome swearing). That’s when I slap the lever back toward cold, which hoses me down with an arctic blast so cold my plums shrivel up and let me know they won’t be making another appearance until spring.
There is one good thing about German showers, however; the shower heads are mounted on handles. I haven’t seen too many showers with handles in the States — mostly in fancy hotel rooms — but Germans love ’em. And I am forced to admit it is quite nice to direct the flow of water wherever I want it, even though the rest of the shower makes me so angry I could flip off a box of kittens.
But let’s not kid ourselves here; shower handles are unnecessary. The only reason Germans like shower handles is because they let you spray warm water directly on your cinnamon ring.
Click here to learn more about the term “Culture Shock.”
For another great article complaining about German showers, check out The Adventures of Heidi Hefeweizen.
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Oh God, My Wife Is German. 
First, congrats on finding a decent flat in Hanover. I hope it is decently-priced too, because my sister has nothing positive to say about the property market in Hanover.
Second, do you really prefer shower curtains over glass walls? You know, these things that, at the slightest draft (which is generally not avoidable unless you like your water to have room temperature), swing up and stick to your body or, alternatively, fold up on themselves, rendering themselves completely useless as protective barriers between your shower and the rest of the bathroom? You can’t be serious.
Third, stop whinging, you whiny pussy of an American Weichei. And learn to appreciate the blessing that are shower handles. Sheesh! ;-)
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My wife did a wonderful job researching apartments here in Hannover. We actually found the one we wanted while still in America. We’re just a young couple though, so perhaps our flat would seem like hell to your sister. :)
Glass walled showers are great… when they’re big enough. Too small and you’re likely to put your elbow through it. :)
I had to look up “Weichei” in order to understand you just called me a wimp. :) Now I am going to call my wife a Weichei every chance I get, and I will blame it all on Sandra Parsons. :D
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Hey, what do you think how old I am?! Or my younger sister for that matter?
As to the Weichei, I could also have called you a Warmduscher which would not just be as befitting but also a nice pun. You should really ask your wife to teach you more of the really important German vocabulary. One of the first words I taught my husband for instance was Pobacke. Very important!
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My wife tells me that means, “butt cheek.”
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Well, she’s lying to your face, probably because she knows you don’t know leo :D
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Oh wait, if you meant Pobacke then she’s right :)
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Yeah. She laughed when I asked too. :)
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I share your pain. It took me months to limber up enough to not pull a muscle whilst trying to wash in these death trap showers that Thumbelina would find snug. Have you encountered the showers, like the one in my apartment, where the part of the plumbing where the hot and cold water come to co-mingle is located outside of the wall? It’s really awesome when you bump up against it because Germans like their hot water heaters to essentially have a direct line to hell. Results in the burning of some rather sensitive parts. TMI?
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Haw haw! A direct line to hell. Absolutely. My wife like to scorch herself. Why, I ask you?
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Beats the hek out of me. Quite frankly, there are some things I’ve run across and experienced living here that I doubt I’ll ever really understand. Yet, I love living here. It’s just too bad that they’ve not discovered the joy of “real” cereal that not only puts you in a sugary coma, but actually tastes good and does not resemble bird seed.
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Haw haw haw! Totally! I’ve found a lot of bird seed type foods here. In fact, my wife lets me eat only Muesli… to which she adds extra oats for health.
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Oh gross! Then again, I suppose they must make up for all the pork products and beer somehow.
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