New Country, First Challenges

An Arrival in a New Country with Difficulties

For our first month in Croatia, we rented an apartment in Split through a well-known apartment rental app. We wanted to arrive early to familiarize ourselves with the country. The rental price wasn't exactly cheap, but we were promised a nice, modern apartment in a high-rise building with a sea view over the city. So there we were, having arrived after a 14-hour drive at half-past eight in the evening. The apartment description stated that it had a private parking lot, and we envisioned parking our car after an exhausting drive, unloading our stuffed vehicle, and carrying our belongings into the apartment so we could finally get a peaceful night's rest. But, as they say in Germany, 'unverhofft kommt oft' (unexpected things often happen when you least expect them).

Since it was already dark, orienting ourselves wasn't easy. However, the row of '80s prefabricated high-rise buildings was hard to miss. Public parking lots were scattered around, and we decided to park and contact the landlord. After a lengthy search for an available parking spot, we reached out to him for information and inquired about the advertised private parking. He responded that we should come to the apartment first, where he would show us everything and then guide us to the parking area. He also confirmed that it was okay to temporarily leave the car where it was. With this assurance, we left our belongings in the car and proceeded to the apartment.

The surroundings were dimly lit, with concrete buildings smeared with graffiti. Much of it was in Croatian, which we couldn't understand, but occasionally we spotted a pentagram with the signature '666,' a reference we understood well. The overall atmosphere and the initial difficulties in finding a private parking spot led us to briefly question if we had chosen the right apartment for the first time.

Upon arriving at the entrance, an unkempt man in his forties, smelling of cigarette smoke, kindly held the door open for us. He introduced himself as the son of the landlady, who resided in the same high-rise building. Together, we took the aging elevator to the thirteenth floor, where he opened the door to the apartment. Inside, we discovered a cozy space decorated with paintings on the walls and a balcony. It could have been quite satisfactory if not for one small, yet potentially serious issue. The apartment was charmingly furnished, but it was evident that the landlords didn't prioritize cleanliness. The place was heavily dusted, and anything that could collect dust had already done so. Thankfully, the bed and sofa were in good condition, so, after our exhausting car ride, we decided to stay for the time being. There was still one thing missing: the parking space. After the brief ten-minute visit, we returned to the elevator and made our way back to our parked car.

It was dark and poorly lit, and all of us were exhausted, which may explain why we had trouble locating our car. However, I was absolutely certain that we had parked it here, but now it was nowhere to be found. Initially, I doubted my own memory, but I was one hundred percent sure of the spot. Ester shared the same certainty, and Amelie had already fallen asleep in my arms. I quickly scanned the parking lot just in case we had made an error, but it was clear the car was missing. Considering it was nighttime in an unfamiliar location, my mind raced with thoughts of what could have happened. I informed the landlord that we had parked in the vacant spot, and it had vanished, likely stolen. I requested his assistance and the local police's phone number. At that moment, Ester remembered that our cat Levi was still in the car. Now, not only did we have a stolen car, but also the unsettling thought of a family cat being kidnapped, right after arriving in Croatia.

The landlord looked baffled and startled, reached for his cellphone, and suggested I shouldn't call the police just yet. Instead, he said he would call his mother. I was shocked by his answer. Initially, I thought he might be kidding me. Then I considered the possibility that he was involved in some criminal scheme, so I decided to find the local police's number online myself. This situation was a whirlwind of emotions, and I took matters into my own hands and dialed the police.

I explained the situation to the officer on the other end of the line, and he listened patiently. He then suggested that it was very unlikely the car had been stolen. Instead, he advised me to call the local towing service to inquire about the vehicle. If they had no information about its whereabouts, I could contact the police again. This seemed like an unusual suggestion; why would the car have been towed? Nevertheless, the thought of a towing was probably more pleasant than that of a stolen car. So, we followed the advice and found out with mixed emotions that the car had indeed been towed. Fortunately, the towing company was still open for about an hour, allowing us to retrieve both the car and our cat the same night. We rushed to the towing company and were able to pick up the car right away, albeit at some cost. However, it was worth it to ensure that Levi didn't have to spend the night in the cat carrier in the car. The towing company employee informed us that we had parked in a handicapped parking space, and a resident had called to report it. This was surprising for two reasons. First, we had only been gone for less than 10 minutes, and the towing company must have acted quickly, or a resident had reported it immediately after we left. Second, there was no sign indicating it was a disabled parking space; otherwise, we wouldn't have parked there. Despite the confusion, we were relieved to have the car back and immediately headed off to get some much-needed rest.

The next morning, Amelie came into our room and woke me up, saying, 'Daddy, Daddy, there's a strange man standing in front of our window!' In disbelief, I asked her if this strange man was inside the apartment in front of the window or outside the window. She explained that he was outside the window, which I found hard to believe. I questioned how that could be, considering we were on the thirteenth floor. Nevertheless, I went with her to the living room, only to discover that she was absolutely right. There was indeed a man standing on the window ledge of the thirteenth floor, immediately starting to renovate the outer facade.

So there we were, in a small apartment with a great view, and workers who hammered and drilled from dawn to dusk, all while having a clear view into our private lives. Strangely enough, after the first few days, I even briefly thought about opening the window to offer the workers a cup of coffee. After all, we had learned that coffee seems to be a Croatian national drink, which we were already surprised to learn.