Martin Duffy finds a world of difference between renting homes in Ireland and in the German capital

I read somewhere that comparison is odious. So permit me to be odious. Some months ago I viewed a flat over a shop in Wicklow town - a mere 30 miles from Dublin. I was looking for a small place to rent, as I would be living between Berlin and Ireland and couldn't afford Dublin rents.

The flat was grim: small rooms with jaded wallpaper, Formica table and metal dining chairs, ancient armchairs stained with the sweat of past tenants, filthy multicoloured carpets and views out of the windows to neighbouring walls.

I thought that with a bit of paint and imagination I could endure living there for a few weeks at a time, and as the rent was only €500 a month I said I'd take it, as long as I could paint it up, get rid of the table, chairs and flooring and get a decent bed. I was told the landlord would permit no changes to the flat.

I eventually found an affordable place in Arklow - a mere 45 miles from Dublin.

Meanwhile, my life in Berlin went to a new level as Claudia and I moved into a flat together. The flat is in the beautiful district of Schoneberg - meaning, appropriately, beautiful hill. We are minutes from the Eisenacher Strasse U-Bahn and 20 minutes' walk from Ku'damm, Berlin's traditional high street. More interestingly, we live amid a wonderful mix of cafés, stores, markets and parks. I couldn't imagine a lovelier place to live.

We also live a block away from a majestic Protestant church, Apostel-Paulus Kirche, that rings out its bells several times a day, including at six, so I can think of my childhood and the angelus.

Our flat is in the old style - the building is almost 100 years old and seems to have been little damaged by the war. We live on the ground floor, in hinter haus, the section of the building in the central courtyard. These flats were traditionally cheaper homes, for poorer tenants. So pity us: 1,240 square feet. Two balconies - one big enough for a small dining table - looking out on the secluded and wooded court (with three plum trees!). Four tall-ceilinged and generous rooms, one large bathroom with toilet, a separate toilet, a storage room in the flat and a storage unit in the cellar.

The rent "warm", as they say, which means with heating, hot water and building maintenance, is €831 a month. You will notice this is not a rent rounded up to the nearest €50. The "cold" rent is calculated using legally monitored rates connected to the area and the type of building. The "warm" element is also based on a formula. The formulae are open to review by tenants. Any overcharge on the monthly estimated utility costs is refunded each year.

But the story only begins there.

Claudia and I had looked at several flats but she, a seasoned Berliner, kept looking even when I thought we'd found somewhere good enough. Finding this flat was a stroke of luck - word through a friend of a friend - but when we viewed it Claudia still had reservations.

The wooden floors had been painted grey, a wall separated the kitchen from the living room, thus isolating the cook, the oven did not work well and the flat had no steps down into the communal courtyard.

With a confidence that is either hers or a Berliner's, Claudia went to the law company representing the house owners (we think the landlords live in Switzerland) and listed her conditions for accepting the flat - and, by the way, we have Claudia's two youngest kids and a big black dog usually living with us.

Given my Irish training, I thought we were blessed to have a roof over our heads. I figured we'd be sent off to live in a shack by the side of the road as punishment for our arrogance. The law company's representative came back and said our conditions were acceptable.

So one fine day Claudia and I went into the law company and signed the contract. We paid three months' rent "cold" - a total of almost €2,000 - as a deposit plus a month's rent in advance. The changes we would make - floor, wall, steps, oven - were all written into the contract.

Then, when the other tenants and all their belongings moved out, Claudia moved into the empty flat with some helpers to knock down part of the wall between kitchen and living room and to use industrial sanders to get the floor back to bare wood. I joined from Dublin two days later.

In the following weeks she and I and family and friends varnished the floor, painted the walls, cleaned and moved in furniture, then started to add the finer touches. After a month we had our house-warming.

Being a tenant in Berlin is so different from being one in Ireland that I have to ask Claudia again and again to confirm what the contract states. We have security of tenure here. The contract also limits when and by how much the rent can be raised.

To be odious again, a friend in Dublin told me that one day his rent was simply doubled with no recourse. He had to move to Kildare to find an affordable place. People who rent are Ireland's new exiles.

Because there is a culture of renting in Berlin - a culture that has evolved since the Industrial Revolution and the huge growth of Berlin in the late 19th century - people have what I can only describe as a civilised approach to renting living space.

It's a social contract: the buildings were funded or bought by people who make their money renting out the flats in a way that respects those who rent. As an Irishman, I have to keep reminding myself of this difference. This really is my home. I can live here until I die. Not having a mortgage does not make me a second-class citizen.

Indeed, to be snobbish, among the people living in this building we know a doctor, a music therapist and an extremely prosperous family that seems to have a thing for bicycles.

I asked Claudia how we might, short of seriously defaulting on rent, be removed from our home. She explained that there is one scenario: if the owners decide to sell the flat, then they must prove legally that they have a valid cause for selling it. They must then give us first refusal on a fair price for buying the flat. If we do not agree the price they must give us three years to leave. Claudia says the laws are to prohibit property speculation - people who let accommodation must do so responsibly.

A sense of home is, of course, very important. In Ireland it takes a house and a mortgage to have that feeling. It's part of our past and was the tail that wagged the Celtic Tiger. Here everyone is recognised as having the right to a place that is their home. And so it should be.

Martin Duffy is a writer and filmmaker