How to Build a Kitchen at IKEA

As I mentioned before, one of my greatest worries about our new apartment is the kitchen. Or the lack thereof.

In France, when people move they bring their kitchen appliances. And usually everything else, for that matter - countertops, cabinets, everything. Our current apartment is furnished, so were were lucky to have everything already in place. But since our new apartment is brand-spanking new, the kitchen is little more than a tiled room with special outlets in the wall and a sink on one side. That's what we started with; a sink.

So we set aside last Sunday to pay a visit to IKEA and get everything in order. Up until that point, my relationship with IKEA had been for bits of static furniture, pretty lamps, and the occasional kitchen tool. I had no idea that they also sold appliances until last week when I started asking friends for proposals for the best place to buy this stuff.

I remembered that IKEA had a planning tool that I played around with once on a bored day in the office, just for fun. Now I downloaded it for real on our home computer and started plugging in numbers.

After the dimensions, I browsed through IKEA's whole catalog of kitchen stuff for a few hours, dragging and dropping appliances and countertops into place. By Friday night, I had a pretty good idea of what would go where, and a rough idea of what it would cost. Then I saved everything on the IKEA server and braced myself for the real store.

On Sunday (a store is open on Sunday in France?) we found ourselves at IKEA by 3:00 in the afternoon. Naturally, it was packed, and we followed the stream of people to the kitchen section. There we found a bank of computers, where I easily pulled up our saved file. We waved over a harassed-looking employee, who reviewed our somewhat embarrassing tiny kitchen plans and expertly started moving things around. Then she pointed to the kitchen section of the store beyond our computer - clearly labelled with a "Step 2" sign - and told us to pick out our appliances and come back.

I must admit I've never been in a position to buy four appliances at one time before. Fortunately, we had the remainder of my relocation allowance leftover from the expatriation to spend, otherwise the results might have come out much different (cheaper).

First we haggled over the stovetop (Dave: "You don't need a burner with a halogen bulb if you don't even know what it does"), then the oven (me: "I don't care if it costs more, a oven/microwave is going to save us valuable space"), and I let David chose the dishwasher without argument, considering he's the one who usually loads it. He ended up with a bigger model than the one we have now ("For 75 euros more, why not?"). The only thing we didn't get was the refrigerator: the nice one built into a matching cabinet was a bit too expensive for us and I didn't like the other options (ugly). They were out of stock, anyway. We have plans to pick one out next week, along with a clothes washer, at another store.

After the appliances came the hard part: the cabinets. IKEA has about 25 different cabinet options, with roughly 25 different counter combinations, and if you do the math it's overwhelming. I always dreamed of a bright, colorful kitchen, but in the end it was just easier to match the two hanging cabinets that the apartment owner swears he's going to install before we get there: white. We put a matching cover on the dishwasher, and I had enough space between the oven and the theoretical refrigerator to put one 40 cm wide cabinet unit, enough space to hold the pot lids, I'd imagine.

To solve the lack of storage space, we chose a big table unit with huge drawers. The one side of the kitchen is completely open, and the table will serve as a half-wall between the kitchen and living room.

Of course, this all makes perfect sense to me because I built it with the IKEA software, which shows me exactly how it will look. Clever software, letting me click and drag my kitchen together and want to buy everything at IKEA because it's so darned easy. It took a long time, don't get me wrong. And David and I now know every word for every bit of kitchen appliance, cupboard, drawer, and trim in French.

Anyway, after we'd picked everything out and wrote the odd Swedish names on our printout, we took a number and met a consultant under the "Step 4: Purchasing" sign. The extremely patient cashier reviewed our file again, asked if we'd made sure the oven door would open with the table placed there, and would we like a different drawer here, it's on sale.

He punched everything into his computer, asked for our delivery address (the idea of fitting even the 40 cm drawer in our C2 is laughable), and handed us the phone number of a third party installation company. Dave bristled a bit at the idea of hiring a guy to do his bricolage (handy work), but I managed to soothe him by reminding him that we don't exactly have a circular saw, let alone a workbench, and he can do all that manly stuff when we move back to the States.

The whole episode took about five hours, and we walked out of IKEA holding a set of drawer handles (for some reason they suggest you pick up the handles in advance) and a hefty bill, absolutely drained of energy.

I guess buying nearly an entire kitchen at IKEA is one of those French experiences that we'll never have again, so chalk this one up to culture lessons. One we hope we'll never ever have to do again.