I've expounded on friendships in Germany, but have yet to mention how Germans will walk right past one another on the street without a hint of eye contact, a smile or any form of greeting. In the town where I grew up, people were quick to greet one another, even if they were not acquainted, so I was unprepared for the seeming rudeness of this culture when I first moved here. Back then, Christof warned me to be careful whom I smiled at in passing, as it could very possibly be interpreted the wrong way. Turns out he was right, so I curbed my natural instinct to acknowledge passersby, but inside I thought this was a cold folk indeed. Yet soon enough I was acting just like one of them, finding the exact moment to look away to expertly avoid eye contact when walking past anyone.
For their part, Germans do not understand what makes a cashier in the States ask "How are you today?", when she really only means "Hello". They think USAmericans* are quite superficial, not only in their greetings, but also in their relationships. I can't wholly disagree with this observation, as in my own experience, in the States, "Let's get together sometime" is code for "Maybe we will see each other again, but also maybe not. Whatever." And "Give me a call sometime" often means the exact opposite. Does the word "sometime" have a secret meaning that I have missed out on?.
But back to the subject at hand. Once I had lived here for a while, I understood that although they are distant with strangers, Germans are anything but cold with those closest to them. While chatting with the person ahead of them in line is not their strong suit, hugs, kisses and handshakes are the greetings of choice among friends. When they ask "How are you?", they really are interested, even if they prefer to hear the short answer.
And apparently I am not the only one who prefers cheery supeficiality to a reserved manner or downright churlishness at the check-out counter or on the phone. In the last years there has been a marked increase in pleasant voices, both in stores and on the telephone wires, as if marketing instructors are now taking their cues from practices abroad. I think it is a wonderful development and respond to all efforts on this front with my own smiles and wishes for a good day.
I've even gone back to greeting strangers I pass on the street -- at my age there is no longer a danger that anyone will take it the wrong way. Along with the confused looks and stuttered responses from most passersby, I have made a startling observation: senior citizens tend to light up when spoken to, and they happily return my greetings, even if we have never met before. Maybe these folks have mellowed with age, or maybe times were different when they were young, but it is heartwarming to to see their faces shine. Plus it brings back just a little bit of that Southern warmth of my childhood....................
*As my boys have recently pointed out, the term "American" applies to ALL citizens of North and South America, even if it is commonly used to mean US citizens. In an effort to be politically correct, I will try to use the phrase USAmerican, but old habits may be tough to break.
Wednesday, May 12, 2010
Friday, May 7, 2010
Clothing Sale
Yesterday afternoon Anne called to see if I wanted to go to a special clothing sale in the next town over. Her daughters had been at the sale earlier in the day and were raving about the offerings. Since all I had planned was a few hours of ironing, I quickly assented to coming along, although I did not exactly understand where we were headed. When she picked me up a few minutes later, Anne explained that she herself was not sure about this whole sale thing, as it was in a farmhouse (so I HAD heard correctly!) and this was the last day of a week-long sale. Totally curious and always on the look-out for something different to add to our wardrobes, we drove the short distance to Wicker and turned into a windy road leading to the farm buildings. It was a beautiful, pastoral scene with just a few small signs leading us to an idyllic courtyard, so we drove in and parked the car. Posted on the side of one of the buildings was a pricelist for game meat, but no real indication of where this "shopping event" was being held. So we entered the only open door to find ourselves in a wide area surrounded by renovated barn kind of buildings, but not a soul in sight. Undaunted, we just kept on until we found a door with a tiny sale sign and muted female voices behind it.
On opening this door, we were greeted by a perky young woman who thrust a price list in our hands. She explained that each type of item (dresses, pants, shirts, tops, skirts, belts and accessories -- more there wasn't) had a fixed price. The system was simple -- the racks set up around the periphery of the room were organized by size, and on tables in the middle lay folded T-shirts and jeans. The saleswoman then left us to our own devices, and we made our way over to our size (Anne and I share the same one in clothes, only her feet are tiny compared to mine) to see what we could find. The selection was not huge, but exactly to my taste, so within minutes I had my arms full. Similarly Anne found a few items, and we decided to start trying on some of the clothes. Only then did we realize that the women around us were in various stages of undress, and there appeared to be no changing rooms. Ofcourse not -- this was clearly a very temporary arrangement.
So we did what we had to -- stripped down to our underwear and tried on the clothes. Had I known, I would have given more consideration to my choice of undergarments that morning. It made me laugh and think that this would never fly in the States, but here it was absolutely no problem. We admired (or not) our reflections in mirrors propped up on chairs, all the while surreptitiously glancing around and noting that the women around us appeared to have the same "problem zone" around the waist that we had, the difference being they were all at least 10 years younger. Maybe our figures really aren't so bad after all.
The fixed prices being the bargain that they were, we both chose several items to take home. It was not a big surprise when we heard that they only accepted cash, unfortunately neither of us had enough. The helpful young saleswoman explained where the next ATM could be found, but blithely added that the day before it had been emptied by their customers. So we zipped back to our bank in our town and returned right away to pick up the clothes.
It was an unusual but highly successful shopping excursion, and I look forward to their return in September. Apparently these young women -- whoever they may be -- set up shop at the farmhouse 4 times a year, and I certainly intend to go back, as I definitely like their taste in fashion. Anne agreed that this is a good style for me and announced she now knows my type -- "Kindfrau" or Childwoman. I am just not sure if that is a compliment or not.
On opening this door, we were greeted by a perky young woman who thrust a price list in our hands. She explained that each type of item (dresses, pants, shirts, tops, skirts, belts and accessories -- more there wasn't) had a fixed price. The system was simple -- the racks set up around the periphery of the room were organized by size, and on tables in the middle lay folded T-shirts and jeans. The saleswoman then left us to our own devices, and we made our way over to our size (Anne and I share the same one in clothes, only her feet are tiny compared to mine) to see what we could find. The selection was not huge, but exactly to my taste, so within minutes I had my arms full. Similarly Anne found a few items, and we decided to start trying on some of the clothes. Only then did we realize that the women around us were in various stages of undress, and there appeared to be no changing rooms. Ofcourse not -- this was clearly a very temporary arrangement.
So we did what we had to -- stripped down to our underwear and tried on the clothes. Had I known, I would have given more consideration to my choice of undergarments that morning. It made me laugh and think that this would never fly in the States, but here it was absolutely no problem. We admired (or not) our reflections in mirrors propped up on chairs, all the while surreptitiously glancing around and noting that the women around us appeared to have the same "problem zone" around the waist that we had, the difference being they were all at least 10 years younger. Maybe our figures really aren't so bad after all.
The fixed prices being the bargain that they were, we both chose several items to take home. It was not a big surprise when we heard that they only accepted cash, unfortunately neither of us had enough. The helpful young saleswoman explained where the next ATM could be found, but blithely added that the day before it had been emptied by their customers. So we zipped back to our bank in our town and returned right away to pick up the clothes.
It was an unusual but highly successful shopping excursion, and I look forward to their return in September. Apparently these young women -- whoever they may be -- set up shop at the farmhouse 4 times a year, and I certainly intend to go back, as I definitely like their taste in fashion. Anne agreed that this is a good style for me and announced she now knows my type -- "Kindfrau" or Childwoman. I am just not sure if that is a compliment or not.
Thursday, May 6, 2010
English or German?
I've always cursed the cars that cut in front of me in traffic, and I've been known to speak softly to my garden plants while tending them, but recently I caught myself actually talking aloud to pots and pans, a very disturbing revelation. What worried me most though, was that I was doing it in German! Yo, things have gone too far if I start thinking and babbling in German when I am by myself!
Certainly I have come a long way since those timid words at the start of my Junior Year Abroad. The first milestone passed when people trying to judge solely from my accent couldn't place where I was from. I worked especially hard to avoid the typical American twang -- as if chewing gum while speaking, as once explained by my sister-in-law Anne-- so this was very encouraging. Next came the realization that, when speaking German, I was also thinking in the language, and no longer translating in my head. But I knew I'd reached real fluency when those people I communicated with in German during waking hours also spoke German in my dreams, and the same with English and English speakers. I had finally arrived.
Even before they were born, Christof and I decided to raise our children bilingually, which turned out to be not difficult at all. Our method of choice was to make English the "house language" as opposed to each of us speaking in our native tongue with the kids. This system has the distinct advantage of allowing only one language at the dinner table (otherwise the chatter at the family meal must be in two languages or one parent can not remain consistent), and worked well for us as I was a stay-at-home Mom and constantly with the boys in their first years of life. I sang, read and spoke to them in English, but to balance things out (at least a little), I took them to German playgroups, which is how I expanded my own vocabulary to include nursery rhymes and finger plays. Every activity outside our home -- going shopping, eating out, going to church, seeing doctors, visiting friends, etc. -- went down in German anyway. We also allowed an exception to our own house rule for when German-speaking guests were present, for it seemed impolite to talk together in a language that others did not understand. All three boys started out with English being the stronger language, but at the tender age of three, when each child went off to the local kindergarten (more like American preschool), the scales tipped, making German their "first" tongue. Still, we kept the iron-clad rule of speaking English with us and at the dinner table, but among themselves they could speak as they pleased. Our efforts paid off, as our sons are truly bilingual, and even though their English grades in school did not always reflect it, they are native speakers in both languages.
It fascinated Anne that as our boys learned to say their first words, they would speak in German to her and then turn to me and continue in English. She enjoyed showing off this "talent" by asking them to say a word and then request the English translation. The young boys were somewhat confused, as they associated each person with either German or English, and in their own minds did not translate, as they had no need to. For a while they played along, but the game quickly got old, as for them it was only normal to speak both tongues.
There were, however, those few instances where the boys' understanding was somewhat fuzzy. I once caught Tim when he was about 7 or 8 coolly explaining to a new acquaintance that his mother came from England. When I gently reminded him that I grew up in the US, he said "well, you always speak English, so I thought you came from England". I couldn't really argue with his logic, but I did correct his misinformation. Altogether this has always been our agreement -- when necessary, I correct the boys' English, and they in turn point out my mistakes in German. (obviously the same with Chris). Many people find it odd, almost disobedient, when the kids correct my near perfect German , but it is the very best way to improve. Only once did this plan back-fire. Many years ago, while attending a church retreat, I sat praying aloud to a group and right in the middle of the prayer, Tim corrected my slightly improper grammar. New exception to the rule -- no corrections during prayers! In the end, I am very thankful that all five of us feel at home in both languages, and can talk equally well to family and friends on both sides of the Atlantic.
Certainly I have come a long way since those timid words at the start of my Junior Year Abroad. The first milestone passed when people trying to judge solely from my accent couldn't place where I was from. I worked especially hard to avoid the typical American twang -- as if chewing gum while speaking, as once explained by my sister-in-law Anne-- so this was very encouraging. Next came the realization that, when speaking German, I was also thinking in the language, and no longer translating in my head. But I knew I'd reached real fluency when those people I communicated with in German during waking hours also spoke German in my dreams, and the same with English and English speakers. I had finally arrived.
Even before they were born, Christof and I decided to raise our children bilingually, which turned out to be not difficult at all. Our method of choice was to make English the "house language" as opposed to each of us speaking in our native tongue with the kids. This system has the distinct advantage of allowing only one language at the dinner table (otherwise the chatter at the family meal must be in two languages or one parent can not remain consistent), and worked well for us as I was a stay-at-home Mom and constantly with the boys in their first years of life. I sang, read and spoke to them in English, but to balance things out (at least a little), I took them to German playgroups, which is how I expanded my own vocabulary to include nursery rhymes and finger plays. Every activity outside our home -- going shopping, eating out, going to church, seeing doctors, visiting friends, etc. -- went down in German anyway. We also allowed an exception to our own house rule for when German-speaking guests were present, for it seemed impolite to talk together in a language that others did not understand. All three boys started out with English being the stronger language, but at the tender age of three, when each child went off to the local kindergarten (more like American preschool), the scales tipped, making German their "first" tongue. Still, we kept the iron-clad rule of speaking English with us and at the dinner table, but among themselves they could speak as they pleased. Our efforts paid off, as our sons are truly bilingual, and even though their English grades in school did not always reflect it, they are native speakers in both languages.
It fascinated Anne that as our boys learned to say their first words, they would speak in German to her and then turn to me and continue in English. She enjoyed showing off this "talent" by asking them to say a word and then request the English translation. The young boys were somewhat confused, as they associated each person with either German or English, and in their own minds did not translate, as they had no need to. For a while they played along, but the game quickly got old, as for them it was only normal to speak both tongues.
There were, however, those few instances where the boys' understanding was somewhat fuzzy. I once caught Tim when he was about 7 or 8 coolly explaining to a new acquaintance that his mother came from England. When I gently reminded him that I grew up in the US, he said "well, you always speak English, so I thought you came from England". I couldn't really argue with his logic, but I did correct his misinformation. Altogether this has always been our agreement -- when necessary, I correct the boys' English, and they in turn point out my mistakes in German. (obviously the same with Chris). Many people find it odd, almost disobedient, when the kids correct my near perfect German , but it is the very best way to improve. Only once did this plan back-fire. Many years ago, while attending a church retreat, I sat praying aloud to a group and right in the middle of the prayer, Tim corrected my slightly improper grammar. New exception to the rule -- no corrections during prayers! In the end, I am very thankful that all five of us feel at home in both languages, and can talk equally well to family and friends on both sides of the Atlantic.
Tuesday, May 4, 2010
Vacationing in Europe
Last night Christof and I poured over a map of Swizerland, trying to figure out the best places to go with my sister Mary and her family when they come to Europe this August. Switzerland is their choice, but are we more than happy to visit that lovely country once again. While discussing details of the trip, we also looked at the planning of our other upcoming travels, and I was amazed by how much we will be on the road and in the air this year.
Why I was surprised, I am not sure, as we enjoy traveling and do a fair amount annually, but even more relevant is the fact that here in Germany I swear it is a national pasttime to plan, book and take vacations. It seems like everybody -- and I mean everybody! -- wants to get away from it all, and as Germans have a very liberal amount of vacation time (especially as compared to Americans), the travel business is a booming one. My first years here I found it almost an obsession how people were always discussing where they were going on their next vacation. Germans not only travel tirelessly, they are also always talking about it: where they are thinking of going this year, how expensive certain areas have become, and how desperately they need to to get away among other topics. Slowly I realized that at least one of the contributing factors for the mass exodus (and the accompanying chatter) was the simple fact that people were hungry for the sun, as Germany is not known for its super weather. Even I found myself longing for sunshine in the summer. Having grown up in Virginia, I really missed those hot sunny days and warm summer nights, and my own thoughts turned to southern Europe. The weather in Germany gets a bad rap though, as sometimes we do have a beautiful spring, or summer or fall (or any combination thereof) -- you just can't count on it.
Plus admittedly countries are just smaller and closer together in Europe, so that we can go to all kinds of cool places without driving for days or taking super long flights. Last fall, Chris and I were in Paris for a long weekend, as it is less than 4 hours by train. In the summer we had hopped up to Holland with friends, a relatively spontaneous trip, but not a problem as it is within easy driving distance. The year before that, we stopped near Geneva, Switerland to visit a very dear friend of mine on our way down to the Provence area of France, arriving just in time to see the lavender in full bloom. Quite lovely Earlier years saw us in Tuscany (Italy), Athens and the Cyclades in Greece, and Lanzarote, where Christof's mother has taken up residence (OK, this is a 4 hour flight, but only one hour time difference). The super convenient thing about all these countries is that they share our currency. Well, almost all. Switzerland still holds onto its Swiss francs, but even there you can often use euros in a pinch.
Even school trips routinely have foreign destinations. Sam will be going by train with his tenth grade class to London in June. Last year the same group met up with French students in the Alps to have a cultural exchange while getting in some quality skiing. Lukas also traveled with his high school English class to London (by bus and boat -- they were on the go for quite a little while!), and in a separate school trip visited Holland. As far as I can remember, Tim's school excursions were all within Germany, but visiting Munich and Berlin with his class were also wonderful trips.
That's the thing -- Germany itself has a mulititude of super destinations to offer, ranging from world-class cities to North and Baltic Sea islands, beautiful lakes and majestic mountains to picturesque little towns, but I think many people miss out on what is practically in their own backyard in their quest for more exotic locations. Luckily we frequently have visitors from the States and we enjoy showing them the jewels of our region, which are many. Mary's family intends to stay at our house for several days before we head to Switzerland, so maybe we can take a cruise down the Rhine River and explore some of the castles in the area.
Time to stop blogging and start planning. So many places to go and so little time!
Why I was surprised, I am not sure, as we enjoy traveling and do a fair amount annually, but even more relevant is the fact that here in Germany I swear it is a national pasttime to plan, book and take vacations. It seems like everybody -- and I mean everybody! -- wants to get away from it all, and as Germans have a very liberal amount of vacation time (especially as compared to Americans), the travel business is a booming one. My first years here I found it almost an obsession how people were always discussing where they were going on their next vacation. Germans not only travel tirelessly, they are also always talking about it: where they are thinking of going this year, how expensive certain areas have become, and how desperately they need to to get away among other topics. Slowly I realized that at least one of the contributing factors for the mass exodus (and the accompanying chatter) was the simple fact that people were hungry for the sun, as Germany is not known for its super weather. Even I found myself longing for sunshine in the summer. Having grown up in Virginia, I really missed those hot sunny days and warm summer nights, and my own thoughts turned to southern Europe. The weather in Germany gets a bad rap though, as sometimes we do have a beautiful spring, or summer or fall (or any combination thereof) -- you just can't count on it.
Plus admittedly countries are just smaller and closer together in Europe, so that we can go to all kinds of cool places without driving for days or taking super long flights. Last fall, Chris and I were in Paris for a long weekend, as it is less than 4 hours by train. In the summer we had hopped up to Holland with friends, a relatively spontaneous trip, but not a problem as it is within easy driving distance. The year before that, we stopped near Geneva, Switerland to visit a very dear friend of mine on our way down to the Provence area of France, arriving just in time to see the lavender in full bloom. Quite lovely Earlier years saw us in Tuscany (Italy), Athens and the Cyclades in Greece, and Lanzarote, where Christof's mother has taken up residence (OK, this is a 4 hour flight, but only one hour time difference). The super convenient thing about all these countries is that they share our currency. Well, almost all. Switzerland still holds onto its Swiss francs, but even there you can often use euros in a pinch.
Even school trips routinely have foreign destinations. Sam will be going by train with his tenth grade class to London in June. Last year the same group met up with French students in the Alps to have a cultural exchange while getting in some quality skiing. Lukas also traveled with his high school English class to London (by bus and boat -- they were on the go for quite a little while!), and in a separate school trip visited Holland. As far as I can remember, Tim's school excursions were all within Germany, but visiting Munich and Berlin with his class were also wonderful trips.
That's the thing -- Germany itself has a mulititude of super destinations to offer, ranging from world-class cities to North and Baltic Sea islands, beautiful lakes and majestic mountains to picturesque little towns, but I think many people miss out on what is practically in their own backyard in their quest for more exotic locations. Luckily we frequently have visitors from the States and we enjoy showing them the jewels of our region, which are many. Mary's family intends to stay at our house for several days before we head to Switzerland, so maybe we can take a cruise down the Rhine River and explore some of the castles in the area.
Time to stop blogging and start planning. So many places to go and so little time!
Monday, May 3, 2010
The Change
This is what happens when I blog before getting ready for the day -- in the shower I have more thoughts that just have to be written down! Anyway, that inbetween feeling is aparent in many aspects of my life, one of which is that innocuously named stage of a woman's life called "the change". A more apt description would be "the roller coaster" as the ups and downs follow in rapid succession and you never know which way your mood may turn. My gynecologist tells me I entered perimenopause somewhat early (what luck!) but that is no guarantee that I will get through it quicker. Darn! The whole issue is certainly a topic of discussion among my friends, sort of like diapers and nursing when we all had young kids, although many of them have yet to enter the full experience.
Of course not every woman has a difficult time as she ceases to menstruate regularly, but I feel for every female who endures killer hot flashes, weight gain and a plunging sex drive. Some (I suspect male) voices may smugly ask "How bad can a hot flash really be?" (a thought, to be honest, I had myself before the fun started) but the best way I can describe it is sort of like plunging into a tub of ice cold water after 20 minutes in a hot sauna, only in reverse and you have no control over when or where it happens. My extra pounds may actually have other origins (for example the delicious dessert I made the other day and couldn't stop eating, or the fact that the Italian ice cream parlors have opened up for business again), but it is convenient and somewhat satisfying to blame perimenopause. Altogether, that is the one oh so positive aspect about the climacteric -- you can blame just about any bad mood or headache on.
Not that I wouldn't love to go one about this topic, but time to finally do something constructive for the day..................
Of course not every woman has a difficult time as she ceases to menstruate regularly, but I feel for every female who endures killer hot flashes, weight gain and a plunging sex drive. Some (I suspect male) voices may smugly ask "How bad can a hot flash really be?" (a thought, to be honest, I had myself before the fun started) but the best way I can describe it is sort of like plunging into a tub of ice cold water after 20 minutes in a hot sauna, only in reverse and you have no control over when or where it happens. My extra pounds may actually have other origins (for example the delicious dessert I made the other day and couldn't stop eating, or the fact that the Italian ice cream parlors have opened up for business again), but it is convenient and somewhat satisfying to blame perimenopause. Altogether, that is the one oh so positive aspect about the climacteric -- you can blame just about any bad mood or headache on.
Not that I wouldn't love to go one about this topic, but time to finally do something constructive for the day..................
Foreigners
Who is a foreigner? I know I sometimes feel like one here, but then I remember that I have lived over half of my life in Germany. On trips to the States I often have the reverse sensation, slipping right back into the culture I grew up with, but there are just as many moments on my visits where I recognize how European I have actually become.
Yesterday I met a woman new to me in our congregation. Our church merged with another a few years ago, the one she was connected to while living in Mainz and after being absent for several years, she has recently come back. Except for her beautiful dark looks, nothing about her gives away her Mideastern birthplace. I do not know her whole story, but apparently she came to Germany as a teenager with her brother, and after quickly learning the language, she also immersed herself in the culture. Is she a foreigner?
What about the kids in the after-school program I help out with on Mondays? Most of them have a "migrant background" and their parents speak little or no German. But the children certainly act very similar to their German counterparts. Yes, most of them celebrate Muslim rather than Christian holidays and their command of the German language (especially in the written form) is not always perfect, but one could say the same of many Germans.
Definitely an interesting question. I guess it boils down to basically two things -- the legal aspect and how you perceive yourself. For me the first concept is clear: applying for a German passport would mean surrendering my American one, a step I am not (yet) willing to take, even if my American citizenship occasionally causes some extra red tape. The perception part is somewhat more ambiguous. I have always considered myself "American" and the older I get, the stronger I feel my roots pulling inside. At the same time, for the last 25 years my daily life has revolved around a country, language and culture that were once new and strange, but now feel as comfortable as my favorite pair of shoes. Ofcourse some days the shoes don't seem to fit just right either.
Do I feel foreign here? Mostly not. Do I feel German? Most definetly not. Still chilling in that inbetween never-never land........................
Yesterday I met a woman new to me in our congregation. Our church merged with another a few years ago, the one she was connected to while living in Mainz and after being absent for several years, she has recently come back. Except for her beautiful dark looks, nothing about her gives away her Mideastern birthplace. I do not know her whole story, but apparently she came to Germany as a teenager with her brother, and after quickly learning the language, she also immersed herself in the culture. Is she a foreigner?
What about the kids in the after-school program I help out with on Mondays? Most of them have a "migrant background" and their parents speak little or no German. But the children certainly act very similar to their German counterparts. Yes, most of them celebrate Muslim rather than Christian holidays and their command of the German language (especially in the written form) is not always perfect, but one could say the same of many Germans.
Definitely an interesting question. I guess it boils down to basically two things -- the legal aspect and how you perceive yourself. For me the first concept is clear: applying for a German passport would mean surrendering my American one, a step I am not (yet) willing to take, even if my American citizenship occasionally causes some extra red tape. The perception part is somewhat more ambiguous. I have always considered myself "American" and the older I get, the stronger I feel my roots pulling inside. At the same time, for the last 25 years my daily life has revolved around a country, language and culture that were once new and strange, but now feel as comfortable as my favorite pair of shoes. Ofcourse some days the shoes don't seem to fit just right either.
Do I feel foreign here? Mostly not. Do I feel German? Most definetly not. Still chilling in that inbetween never-never land........................
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