Carnival

I survived my first real bout of Carnival.

For five days in the middle of February (leading up to Ash Wednesday), the streets of the Rhineland are filled with drunk clowns, sailors, and bumble bees. In the past two years I resisted the madness, either by fleeing town, or just drowning out the music on the streets with my own living room beats. This year, I got swept into the heart of the chaos.


On Friday night I participated in a Cologne cultural ritual known as "Loss mer singe," (in proper German "Lass' uns singen," in English "Let us sing"). The setting: a cavernous brewery in the shadow of the massive Cologne Cathedral, in the heart of the old city. The protagonists: hundreds, or perhaps thousands, of sweaty bodies with preposterous headgear, crammed together belting out well-worn Carnival songs with insipid lyrics ("Give me your heart; I'll show you the world, na na na"). The purpose: local patriotism. Most of the songs are in the native dialect (Kölsch, or Colognish) and praise the "people with sun in their hearts" in that "friendly little city on the Rhine."

You have to be drunk to really enjoy it. (At least that is what I concluded from the corollary.)

Kölsch is about as similar to real German as Dutch or Yiddish, so, amusing to hear and try to parse out. But I couldn't actually understand much of anything amidst the whooping of the crowds and the thumping of the base. Even the waiters (carrying tiered trays of beer) had trouble getting anyone's attention despite the whistles they blew to part the crowds.

Carnival festivities here actually culminate on "Rose" Monday (Rosenmontag) in a parade featuring everyone and his brother. But after Friday night's adventure, I can't say I was too upset that Monday was a regular work day for me. (Hardly anyone here works on Carnival; however, it is officially up to employers, and mine used the caveat to keep us at the office.) But there is no way to duck the Carnival spirit. I had to dodge trucks unloading beer in the streets as I biked to work at 9 am. Then, at some point after lunch, I got a phone call.

"Good afternoon. I***M head office."

"Bonn Alaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaf!"

"Hello? Who's there?"

"Alaaaaf! Are you still at your desk? Alaaf!"

(A., my former colleague, rang to see if he couldn't pry me away from work with the traditional "alaaf" used as a greeting and a rallying cry in the Rhineland on Carnival.)

In the evening, nearing home, the crowds were still massive in the old town. As I dismounted from the bike to navigate my way through the sea of people, a bear and a clown nearly toppled me down: "Hey, there you are! We just rang your doorbell and no one answered. Can we stop off at your place to pee?"

I chatted with these two friends for a while and let them use the toilet while I helped myself to their bag of parade plunder. (Yes, even in times of economic crisis, it seems the city of Bonn did not skimp on sweets, or local business Haribo made a generous donation.) But even sweeter than the gummy bears: when they closed the apartment door behind them, I knew I wouldn't see another clown face until next year.

Coming up on four years

On March 8th I will have lived 4 years in Germany. If that's not an opportunity to put my two Heimats on the scales, starting with...Things I miss about the US:
 
1) Cultural differences are flaunted, and it shows up best in the diversity of restaurants and ethnic grocery stores. I especially miss tacos and burritos. 

2) Americans are open toward strangers. In fact, Americans even like to confide in strangers. (Once a woman asked me at a craft fair: "Do you think this sweater is too baggy? Recently my daughter said I look like a hobo.") Germans, by contrast, need to down a few beers before they can make eye contact with strangers.

3) Small food co-ops, consumer-owned, where you can buy beans, grains, honey, olive oil, and peanut butter (ground from fresh peanuts) in bulk quantities. Here, a rare sighting of a want-to-be co-op in Germany:


4) The Unitarian Universalist faith. (UUism is a "religion" that draws its values and members from diverse religious traditions, and focuses on social justice here and now.) It has no equivalent in Germany that I know of. (For Germans, UUism is another example of America's love affair with à la carte: take what you like, ignore the rest.) 

5) The US is smoke-free almost everywhere but in private homes. Even there, smokers don't light up around non-smokers. In Germany, smoking in public is still a widespread phenomenon, and you (i.e., kids) can even purchase cigarettes from vending machines on the street. On the other hand, here is something else you can buy on the street: bike inner tubes. That also says something about differing cultural values, leading me to...



...what lures me to stay in Germany (aside from livable/bikable/railable cities):


1) Hearty, whole grain rye bread with pumpkin seeds. (Did you notice that food tops both of the lists? For all our philosophizing, what drives us humans is really quite simple.)

2) Ubiquity of shared flats (Wohngemeinschaften). A not insignificant number of Germans live with housemates/roommates into their forties and beyond, and not just for the sake of convenience.


3) Craftsmanship. In Germany you can still apprentice in bread baking, boat building, and shoe making. In Bonn, there is even a school for organ construction. The long-held tradition of systematically passing know-how from one generation to the next leads to an appreciation for things seasoned and of high quality.


4) Sperrmüll (large item garbage pick-up). Four times a year (to specified dates) people put their old furniture, etc. on the streets - so it is up for grabs until the next morning, when the small portion of it that remains is transported to the dump.


5) Finally, I don't mean to flaunt it, but it is true: five weeks of vacation and 80% of full-time with full benefits is hard to beat.

Gerbamia

This is the new word I coined for the collective thoughts and feelings of Germans toward the Obamas. Many fellow Americans have asked me some version of the following in the past year: "What do Germans think about Obama?" Sometimes added on, "Are they as crazy about him as we are?" Then they make it personal: "Do you feel a little better being an American abroad?" Sometimes they jump directly, by way of assumption, to, "Bet the US has a better reputation abroad now that we have the Obama administration."

All I can say is that, according to Die Zeit, a major German newspaper, (Link for those who read German), Obama is appearing to Germans in their dreams. One woman in this article describes getting into a car with Obama; she didn't know why, but there was a "clear sense of departure." Another dreamer discovers a check for 300,000 € in the back pocket of her jeans - signed by Michelle Obama. On a similar note, a middle-aged man dreamed he received a job offer from the US president. His new role? To help Obama understand the hearts and minds of the Germans.

But as with all things German, this enthusiasm is tempered with some sobriety. Before the November 2008 election, as Obama was leading the polls, Germans kept saying, "Well, even if he makes it, he's gonna got shot." This is just an indication of how desperately the world needed a leader to give us a little more hope and faith. Luckily, I don't hear this fear/comment any more.

But the skepticism has lingered in other forms; Germans are very hesitant, for example, to embrace the charisma that Obama possesses. The caution comes from fact that the most charismatic German leader on the books is also the one responsible for millions of brutally ended lives. (Here is a clear explanation of how a ban on political rhetoric and pomp and circumstance got written into the German constitution post-Hitler.) Therefore, modern Germans are used to politicians who are (lifeless), matter-of-fact reciters of their positions. So no matter how much Obama proves to be a man of his word, Germans will hold his rhetorical prowess against him to some degree.

By the same principle, many Germans were grotesquely fascinated watching the unprecedented ceremony surrounding Obama's ascension to office. In fact, I would wager to say that Obama's being sworn in captured significantly more TV viewers than a major event leading up to next week's German general election: the formal debate between Chancellor Angela Merkel and her contender, Frank-Walter Steinmeier. It isn't that Germans don't care about domestic politics or don't want to know where Merkel and Steinmeier stand. It is just that politics in Germany is far more about parties than about individuals, so a TV duel is contrived in the first place. And, as Obama was taking his oath, I do think a lot of emotion - whether permitted or not - welled up in the collective German Geist.

(That this essay leaves out how Germans view Obama's individual policies is intentional. Each topic could be a blog entry in itself: health care, Afghanistan, economic stimulus policies, actions against global warming... Suffice to say what is obvious to anyone with a few ounces of grey matter: a welcome departure from the white man with the cowboy hat.)

A free (for all) country, after all?

As a corollary to the entry on things that are smaller than life in the US, I have been wanting to talk about German exceptions to the Recht und Ordung rule, i.e., examples of poorly organized, slipshod, or just plain anarchistic.

This desire was inspired by my attempts to get in a bit of exercise at the public swimming pool around the corner from my apartment. The invigorating plunge into the water helps decrease the stress load of an office job, right? Wrong. Not if you don't have any lap lanes, nor any guidelines on sharing space, cuz at 6 pm the pool is filled with throngs of 9-5ers, and all of them carry on oblivious to the others. Zealous athletes end up next to the day dreamy dilly dalliers. Swimmers weave in and out of each others’ paths so often you'd think it was a contra dance. Try in vain to establish a system. Some say, imagine the lap lanes, swim in circles. But others insist on maintaining a straight line, never deviating right or left, even if another swimmer approaches head on.

The second lapse in orderliness lies in a particularly German use* of the comma, Germans might just call it versatility. If you are a native English speaker you noticed that I just let a comma stand in for a full stop, this is the "versatility" I was talking about. Didn't that drive the obsessive compulsive in you crazy? I don't know if it fits the leitmotiv of this blog, but for what it is worth, I think conjunctions contribute to Recht und Ordung.

True anarchy can be best observed, however, in retail establishments with multiple check out lanes. It starts like this: there aren’t enough employees at the register and the lines snake to the back of the store. Then, inconspicuously, the missing worker returns from his or her coffee break and opens up lane 3 or 4. What do the Germans do? Gallantly step back to let pregnant women and those with few items get through speedily? As a matter of course, notify those furthest ahead of the availability of a new check out counter? No. They stand on their tip toes, ready and waiting for the signal that a register could open. When the “Yes, I’m open!” light blinks on it’s like a shot-gun, and every last scoundrel darts to throw his pack of cigarettes on the fresh counter, leaving a few old ladies trampled in his path. It is worth coming for a visit just to witness the madness.


*a legitimate and accepted use

Linguistic Pilferage

There are a number of German words that have made it into the English language because they are untranslatable, for example, Zeitgeist, Leitmotiv, and Schadenfreude. I have come across a few more that ought to be introduced.

• spießig (adj.) - used to describe anything that demonstrates tastelessness or an exaggerated sense of self-importance. For example, comb-overs, garden gnomes, and manicured lawns. Or, the Austrian Silent Night Society (mission: to be the world's authority on the song Silent Night).
  

• basteln (v.) - To basteln is to create like a kid in the largest sense, to make something impressive with modest inputs. So you can basteln a robot out of toilet paper rolls or you can basteln a dinner from what happens to be left in the refrigerator.

• Ausbildung (n.) is schooling or training in a general sense, could be practical, hands-on or theoretical. The word is useful and egalitarian because it can be applied so universally; whether mechanic or pilot or teacher or nurse -- just about everyone has some form of  Ausbildung.

• Liebeskummer (n.) - If you have a Liebeskummer, or a severe case of the love blues, you have been clinically diagnosed as heartbroken.

• Fingerspitzengefuehl - (n.) Though it literally only means the feeling (-gefuehl) in your fingertips (Fingerspitzen), this word refers to a particular flair, or an uncanny ability for something tricky. Intuition of the fingertips. 

And as a bonus bonus, here are some nifty words to incorporate from other languages.

Bewerbungsfoto

Applying for jobs in Germany has given me a chance to better understand Recht and Ordnung.

For example, the obligatory Bewerbungsfoto that accompanies every job application. The shot on the left was my first attempt to create such a thing, before I learned that job portraits are subject to hard and fast rules:

- If the photographer charges you less than 50 €, fuggetaboutit. 
- The picture is under no circumstances to have been taken at home.
- The applicant must look into the camera.
- Not too much neck. 

Most of this I learned from a website called "JOB oder FLOP?", which gives inexperienced applicants a chance to get feedback on their professional portraits from strangers. There are hoards of people who give candid, contemplative criticism, and not all of them are trying to promote their photography studios.

Here is a sampling of the comments on "JOB oder FLOP?": "Your lipstick doesn't match the color palette." "Looks artificial." "Did you just roll out of bed?" "Ever heard of body language?" "Can't you do something about that droopy eyelid?"

In the (embarrassingly) large sample that I evaluated, I never saw a rating higher than 7 out of 10. That could be because only novices or insecure (looking) people post their pictures on "JOB oder FLOP?". But I think it also says something about German mentality: there is no such thing as a perfect 10, because that wouldn't leave any room for doubt or the fabrication of new requirements.

Praise for Green Cities

When I was home in the States I had to defend having wanted to live for 2 and 1/2 years in Germany. For many people 30 months (or 921.5 days) is the brink of eternity - an eternity abroad. They are sure I will be in Germany forever. And no one, except a person without financial alternatives or someone who is persecuted would choose that, right?

Surprisingly people who have been abroad a lot are the most disbelieving. "Don't you get tired of not being able to express yourself naturally in your own language?" "Don't you wish you could just pop home for a weekend?" The answer, of course, to both questions is yes, but it misses the point here.

The crux of my defense is always: I think Germany has really livable cities with vibrant nuclei. I can stumble out my front door and within five minutes I've reached my dentist, picked out organic groceries, taken shoes to be repaired, popped into a thrift store, or sat down for Spanish lessons. And restaurants, beer gardens, and cafes within a five-minute radius are in such abundance it is hardly worth mentioning. (The best news is - but, ssh, it's a secret - even with the dollar at rock bottom and a student/subsistence salary it isn't prohibitively expensive to live in a thriving German downtown - and it's safe.) Another bonus is, when I've had enough of the city, there are frequent trains and smoothly paved bike paths to get me out.


That upshot of all of this is that living without a car is not only possible, it is the only sensible way to live. And that point is made here by a more articulate spokesman from the NY Times.

I live in the sort of neighborhood in Germany that Krugman describes, "a pleasant, middle-class neighborhood consisting mainly of four- or five-story apartment buildings, with easy access to public transit and plenty of local shopping." And I agree with his conclusion that this kind of neighborhood "barely exists in America, even in big metropolitan areas." To make a contrast, he even mentions a US city close to home: "Greater Atlanta has roughly the same population as Greater Berlin — but Berlin is a city of trains, buses, and bikes, while Atlanta is a city of cars, cars, and cars."

For most educated Americans this isn't really news. It is, however, hard for people who haven't lived in Germany or similar places in Europe to appreciate the extent of the disparity. And the ramifications that transportation issues have for quality of life.

On the other hand, Americans are making changes. I am really pleased to see more bikers in my hot and humid hometown every time I visit. They are defying the famous wisdom from Field of Dreams, ("If you build it, they will come."), tired of waiting for bike paths to be built. Hoping that if they come, the city will build. I am also encouraged by talk of restoring existing railway lines and expanding passenger rail travel between major cities in the area I grew up. Both these things seem to not only be relevant for the liberal enclave in which I was nurtured, but also for other parts of the nation.

Rock on, green city planners, amateur and professional. It makes me want to come back and fight the fight. Almost.

Farewell to MLS

When I first stepped into Martin Luther College Preparatory School, the first German school in which I would teach, I was stunned at how empty it seemed. In the classrooms there were no posters about how to eat a healthy diet, no maps of Europe, and needless to say, no German flags. Only a few rooms even had curtains on the windows. There was just a long, uninterrupted series of grey desks, grey walls, and grey chalk boards, stretching across four buildings.

By the end of the year I had forgotten I ever thought the school was bland, because I came to appreciate the buzz of creativity, insight, and - in most cases - hard work that lay just under the surface and characterized the everyday school environment. Students in the 11th and 12th grades were reading the classic English literature that I read in high school: Othello, Fahrenheit 451, Catcher in the Rye, analyzing the work on the same level that we did as native speakers. A group of upperclassmen also put on a more captivating stage production than my high school theatre club - in English. In the club I led, where advanced students could teach English at the local primary school, there were more qualified takers than the parnter school could accommodate.

Even though all students at MLS were capable learners and most put in effort in most courses (even if they didn't admit it), they got the full range of grades, like most students in Germany. There is not much I need to say in comparison about my own high school experience, because grade inflation is basically accepted as a necessary evil in the US. Now I understand why the only professor I had in College who kept a "C" in the middle of the bell curve happened to be a German expatriate.

The only thing that my students at MLS took more seriously than grades was getting a driver's license. Though they fretted nonstop about school exams, consensus was, it mattered most of all to have a friendly examiner (netten Prüfer) when they were sitting behind the wheel. That is because getting a driver's license in Germany entails about 35 hours of driving lessons and 2,000 €.

With such smart students, you'd think I couldn't help but learn a lot myself from being at Martin Luther. In one sense, that's true, for example, my German vocabulary expanded to include things like von wegen (get real), and saugeil (way cool, far out). On the other hand, my English, most notably in spelling, got steadily worse.

Size Matters

When you return to America after a long hiatus, you feel like you have shrunk, because there is no place in the world where all the objects around you are as large as in the fifty, nifty, thrifty, and colossal United States. I shared this insight recently with the handful of German teenagers who have a love of language or a sense of pragmatism and show up Friday afternoons at school for the English conversation practice I offer.

Actually, I shouldn't say "insight," because America's love affair with larger- than- life qualifies as known wisdom. The country's vast plateau still captures the imagination as the land of ever- expanding frontiers. And inspires justifiable disgust with its bulky cars, mammoth houses, and shopping centers the size of small countries.

Since I don't like to spend long hours recounting ideas that other people have articulated better, I posed a new question to my students: what objects, (anything that you can touch), are smaller in America than in Germany? Silence. So I changed the conversation back to what everyone had planned for the weekend. But five minutes into the chatter about a drunken rampage at a party the previous weekend, I got a nagging feeling not to let the thread of the original conversation die so easily. "Come on, guys, I know most of you haven't been there, but you learned that there was an America before you learned to talk."

"Carrots," said Isabelle.

"Carrots?" I asked. "Our carrots look just like your carrots."

"You have mini carrots."

"Oh, those." I didn't know whether to be offended or bemused. "You mean the ones shaped like fingers?" (How did she think they get like that?)

"Yes," she said, "these."

"But that's a marketing tactic. They're cut like that. It gets kids to eat them." You can also buy them before they go under the knife. America is the land of the strange, but let's not exaggerate.

After that our conversation stalled again, so I gave up and waited to try the question out at home on my globe-trotting friends, the anthropologists and geographers in Heidelberg. Here's the list that we came up with (comparison US/Germany). Please add your ideas.

• churches (store-front neighborhood church v. gothic cathedral)
• chocolate bars (300 g bars are not unusual in Germany - by God, that's nearly a pound!)
• the first letter of nouns, "size" or length of words in general
• high school teachers' shoulder bags (because teachers move from classroom to classroom in Germany)