You want the truth?

Having known many Germans and now being married to one, one thing I’ve learned is: never ask for one’s opinion if you’re not prepared for an honest and possibly blunt answer. 

It’s not that they’re being rude; actually it’s quite the opposite. You ask a question (e.g. What do you think of this outfit I just spend two hours putting together?) to which your German conversation partner will assume you’d like to hear the truth. Anything else would be illogical. So imagine your partner’s surprise when his honesty prompts a response of several indignant words, a couple of dismayed gestures and a good door slamming (of which Thomas may or may not have been the recent recipient of).

As weird as it sounds, this honesty thing took me a little while to get used to. But I’m finally learning to appreciate it (most of the time, that is). After all, who wants to be told they look awesome when they actually look like a color-blind hippo that got dressed in the dark? Which reminds me, never tell a German you like something or that something looks good if you don’t mean it. If your true feelings came out later, the damage caused by your little white lie would far out-weigh any good intentions you had.

On a related note, Germans also tend not to ask questions unless they care about the answer. But who asks questions for the sake of asking, you…um…ask? I submit for your review Exhibit A:

....................?

Wait that wasn’t exhibit A. That was just an incredibly awkward picture of a plush Penguin frolicking in the forest. Here’s Exhibit A:
 

A hastily and poorly drawn Exhibit A

 That's right...the supermarket.

When you hit the checkout counter in the U.S., the cashier will generally initiate a series of routine questions. How are you doing today? Did you find everything okay? Any plans for the weekend? You are of course expected to respond with something like: Good, and you? Yes. Nothing special. She doesn’t want to hear about the colonoscopy you just had, that you in fact do need help finding something, or a long-winded account of your weekend gardening strategy.

In Germany, on the other hand, the cashier will acknowledge your existence with a simple Hallo or Grüß Gott (depending on the region). After that, the only sound you hear for awhile is beep, beep, beep as your items pass over the scanner. Then cashier’s voice resumes: €32.85 bitte. You hand over the money, she mutters how much change you get back, and then throws in a hasty Schönen Tag or Tschüß. And that’s it. No superficial small-talk, no fake smiles. Just another efficient transaction of food acquisition.

The story repeats in German clothing stores, book stores, postal offices, banks, etc. It’s no wonder many Americans perceive German salespeople as a bit cold. They just don’t share in our mentality that pseudo-friendless equals an improved customer experience (which is debatable conclusion in itself, I might add). On the other side, it’s no wonder that many Germans are turned off by chatterbox salespeople in the U.S. They’re just not used to someone “pestering” them as soon as they step foot in a store.

Top 5 “so I live here now” moments

Recently I’ve been exchanging emails with a new friend from the States who’s getting ready to hop the pond to come live in Germany. Chatting with her has got me reflecting on all of the prep work that goes into such a big move and on the adjustment process that starts when the plane touches down.

While I have to say that I’ve not really experienced a huge cultural shock (having moved from one globalized western country to another), there are a few differences…some for better, some that make me want to do this:

1. Check your voltage before you buy it or move it overseas. Sounds obvious enough, but when Thomas and I were inventorying our electronic treasures, we were operating under the false assumption that high-ticket items would be flexible enough for U.S. or German voltage. Wrong. The $14 hairdryer proved smarter than the $500 vacuum.  

2. So where do I hang my clothes? Germans are known for their efficiency – a stereotype that doesn’t seem to extend to interior architectural design. In the U.S. you’d be hard-pressed to find an apartment without built-in closets. But in Germany, it’s typically BYOK – bring your own Kleiderschrank (the German word for a wardrobe or otherwise external closet).

Then again, there is some benefit to buying your own – you can add all sorts of cool organizational features like IKEA’s PAX system. No, I don’t get paid for that reference. But, yes, I use PAX and love it!  

Part of my IKEA closet with PAX organizers

3. Need a light…or 10? And while we’re on the where’s the…?? topic, if you’re renting (or buying) a German apartment for the first time, you might want to stock up on some of these:

Lovely, isn't it?

Otherwise, you’ll probably find yourself sitting in the dark, trying to play [insert the latest boring solo game of your choice here] for awhile…which could lead to rumors that you’re in some vampire movie-inspired cult or just woefully unprepared. Or maybe both.

Why the lack of innate lighting? Germans tend to see lighting as a form of creative expression. In the U.S. most apartments come with standard, bottom of the line ceiling lamps that you only notice when a bulb burns out. Germans, on the other hand, prefer selecting their own deckenleuchten to compliment their décor. Here are a few examples of just how creative they can get.

Overall, not a bad idea, but a bit inconvenient if you’re shy a few dangling light bulbs in the first few weeks. But then again, it makes sitting in a lit room feel luxurious. 

4. Buying groceries. Boring sub-head, I know. But it’s better than my first idea: “buying items of food to feed your face.” Yeah, let’s just get on with it.

Remember to bring your own bags, cash and a translator/pocket dictionary (if you’re not already super-fluent in German). Not for communicating with the cashier, but to translate ingredients on packages. Otherwise, your coconut curry might end up being seasoned with minced horseradish instead of minced ginger.

While many larger grocery store accept EC cards (similar to debit cards in the U.S), carrying cash can help prevent awkward moments at the check-out…not that I would know anything about that, of course.

Bringing your own bags to the grocery store is a trend that’s starting to catch on in many U.S. cities. But in Germany, if you don’t bring your own, be prepared to fork over a few Euros for plastic ones at the check-out. But why not help Mother Earth – and your pocketbook out a little and bring your own reusable ones. Here’s a link to one of my favorite brands (which you can easily clip to your purse).

5. The quiet game. No, it’s not like the movie the Crying Game. Wow, where did that reference come from? Yikes. Sorry about that...

It’s more like back in elementary school where I had a potentially hung-over teacher say she’d reward the quietest student with a piece of candy at the end of class. Only with German Ruhezeit (literally “quiet time”) no one will give you candy for your adherence. Unfortunately.

I’ve blogged about Ruhezeit once or twice before, but it’s a pretty important rule that’s worth mentioning again. During this time, you’re not allowed to make noises that would disturb your neighbors. The quiet hours vary depending on the apartment building, but it’s generally every evening/night through early morning. It also applies to Sundays (all day) and to lunch time (daily).

Ruhezeit is actually a nice concept for people who don’t want every evening of their lives filled with incessant hammering, drilling or loud music. But it can be a little challenging to work around when you’ve just moved in and need to drill into the ceiling to install those 10 lamps as mentioned above.

Of course, I’ve only been here for two months, so this is in no way an exhaustive list. It’s just what I’ve experienced so far. What differences have you found between your home country and where you live now?

A bakery so good it defies the law

One of the best things about living in Germany is fresh baked bread. No matter where you are in Munich, chances are pretty good that there’s a bakery - or ten - within walking distance. Around our apartment, for example, we have a least half a dozen (that we know of) just minutes from our door.

And while Thomas is at work earning some of the spendable bread, I’m usually the one who bringing home the literal stuff. Lately, my bakery trips have gotten a bit easier as I’ve graduated from wide-eyed pointing to full-sentence requests. And just yesterday, I even worked up the courage to ask what in an unfamiliar bun. OK, so I didn’t fully understand the response, but it was a start, right?

The other day, Thomas went out on his own edible expedition and came home with several delicious baked goods wrapped in some curiously designed paper:

Such pretty pink wrapping pa--wait a second, is that the...

I’m sure there’s a story behind the logo, but to my knowledge (and a 30-second internet search) it’s mostly commonly associated with anarchy. So we now affectionately refer the bakery as Anarchy Bread. This re-branding attempt was of course followed by a slew of half-baked (get it?) slogans:

• Anarchy bread: Where recipes are for The Man, man
• Anarchy bread: Surprise your taste buds
• Anarchy bread: A culture of enticing culinary chaos

As far as the rest of the paper's design: forks, teapots...sure, those make sense. But what's that other thing? A metallic party hat? I'm just gonna let that go for now...

Oh, and yes, the cake was delicious!

Excuse me ... or not

Ok…so I love my new country of residence, but I really need to vent one complaint. To sum it up, let me quote every elementary school teacher I’ve ever had: “No pushing! Tommy, say ‘excuse me!’”

All right, that’s two complaints. But it seems people in Germany have few qualms about bumping into – or downright stepping on one another, without so much as an Entschuldigung (excuse me).

You see it in the trains, busses, shopping centers, streets, Christmas markets (where people in white winter coats are carrying two mugs of Glühwein…AHEM) – everywhere. Thomas says the “pushing thing” is just a big city problem, like in any country. But I’ve seen this behavior, albeit on a lesser scale, in smaller German towns we’ve visited as well.

Sure they look politely packed in here. But that's because they're standing still.

I guess it’s all just a cultural difference. We Americans in the U.S. probably excuse ourselves way more than necessary. We say it if we pass three feet in front of someone in the grocery store aisle, something many Germans find comical. God forbid if we block a stranger’s view of the Pop-Tart selection for three seconds.

And of course, (and I have to credit Thomas for this observation), the quantity of excuse me’s in the U.S. seems to correlate with the climate. In Arizona, where it’s nice and warm, people tend to be more friendly, and even overly-polite at times. But in Wisconsin during the cold-as-crap winter, people’s personal space bubbles (and respect for others’) tend to shrink. When it’s -20° C, each word seems to decrease your body temperature. So apologia is reserved for more sever social transgressions, like perhaps coming within 1.5 feet of stepping on someone’s toes in the heat pack aisle of Farm and Fleet.  Perhaps this upward temperature/politeness trend will occur in Munich as well (I’ve only been here since November 2010). We'll see...

Maybe we just have bigger “personal space bubbles” in the U.S., and we get wigged out at the thought of violating someone else’s. But even still, I have to say that’s one thing I miss in the U.S. At least my local dry-cleaner gets a little extra business.