No Land's Man

We're flying back to the United States for a visit. I say "back" for Jake and me, but it'll be Jethro's first time there, even though he's a U.S. citizen. When we set out on this adventure (see previous post) we didn't really think we'd set foot on U.S. soil again for three and a half years. But then we had a baby. And it became increasingly evident that Jake's folks, desperate to meet their 19th grandbaby, weren't up for a trip out here. Maybe more specifically, their knees weren't up for going up and down six flights of stairs multiple times a day while they were staying with us. So Jake's parents decided to give us the money they'd been saving to come to us and instead bring us to them. Jake and I are blind with excitement. But there are nerves, too. And not just about a transatlantic flight with this guy:



Although that prospect does chill the blood. Beyond that I'm nervous that I'm going to return to my homeland and it's not going to feel like home anymore. There are so many aspects of European life that have been good for me, that have made me better and healthier. But they are things that will undoubtedly make me seem and feel strange on U.S. turf. I fear this visit will give me a taste of the "man-without-a-country" sensation I'll no doubt suffer through for a while when we return for good. I hope I'll be able to keep up the good habits I've formed here, but I have this sinking feeling that I won't have the willpower.

For example, we have no car here. So we take public transit, Jake bikes to work, or we walk. I walk all the time. Just to get to the tram stop, I walk a couple of blocks. And then there's always the 99 stairs to be climbed to get back home. I do it several times a day. Usually lugging an ever-heavier baby and a bunch of groceries. Before we came here I would go for weeks without walking more than a block in a day. I drove everywhere. My job was something like four or five blocks from our apartment and I drove there almost every day. The grocery store was two blocks away and I drove. Thinking about it now makes my skin crawl. But then I also realize that going to an American grocery store with a backpacking backpack (completely normal here) would make me look like a very un-subtle kleptomaniac, and the larger sizes of grocery items in America would probably make my normal routine impossible anyway.

Another thing that's improved our health has been the inaccessibility of fast food. It's here, but not near our place. So we have to make an effort. And, anyway, none of our favorites are here: Arby's, Sonic, Wendy's, Taco Bell/Time, Little Caesar's, etc., etc. Before it was everywhere, and it was faster and often cheaper than preparing food ourselves. And so that was dinner for us probably three or four times a week. Here, we eat it almost never. The biggest side effect of this is that I have learned how to cook, which is a life skill I'm finding to be quite useful and rewarding. I'm also pretty certain that if our arteries could talk, they'd thank us. But despite this, some of the activities highest on our "To Do in America" list involves eating garbage. Jake must have an Arby's Big Montana, and if I don't get a really big, thick Reese's Peanut Butter Cup milkshake within two days of my arrival, somebody's gonna die.

Now that I think about it, I felt like crap before we came here. I had low blood pressure, was an appropriate weight, didn't smoke or drink, exercised a little bit, but I felt awful a lot of the time. I was constantly tired, and I felt nauseous and woozy way more often than I think is normal. I threw up for no apparent reason almost bi-monthly, earning me a reputation with family for having a "weak constitution". But now I feel strong. I feel healthy. And I haven't thrown up once in the two years we've been here — and that's including the time I was pregnant. I've gotten sick a few times, but I haven't had those lingering weak, queasy feelings at all. I'm guessing that's not a coincidence.

On the other hand, there are aspects of American life that I'm very excited to become reacquainted with. High on this list is friendly people. I don't want to be misunderstood here. Germans are not generally mean or vicious. I've found that if I ever need to approach a stranger to ask for directions or help with something, they're always happy to oblige. But most Germans aren't needlessly friendly. Shortly after we got here, I walked to the grocery store on a sunny, summer morning. A lot of people were out in the neighborhood, walking their dogs, working on their cars, or whatever. As was completely normal for me and where I come from, I smiled at everyone I passed and wished them "Guten Morgen" ("Good morning"). I must have done this at least 10 times before I got to the grocery store. And I didn't receive a single smile back, much less a reciprocal "Guten Morgen". Mostly I just got stares. Some people ignored me entirely. It took me a while to realize that Germans don't work that way. They seem to have this code that says "We will not interfere with one another." And for better or worse, they abide by it. On the one hand, they come off to outsiders as being cold and disinterested when they don't smile and nod at strangers on the street. But on the other hand, I've never felt threatened or unsafe when out alone at night. I've never worried about harassment or about receiving unwanted advances from a stranger. Because Germans just leave each other alone. That's what they do.

At first this annoyed me, but eventually I accepted and adopted their code of mutually assured isolation, and now I've actually come to respect it in a way. There's a pragmatism to it. Sort of like how they don't ask each other "how are you?" unless they're fully prepared to sit with you and get your true answer, however long or tragic. They're not going to smile and say hi when they have no intention of either A). having a relationship with you or B). having a conversation with you. Really, it's just social honesty. And now, having an adorable baby with me all the time, I see the other side of it. When people smile at and coo Jethro in public, I know they mean it. They're not doing it just to humor him or me. The experience has helped me understand why Germans often view Americans as being shallow and insincere. When you smile at and greet everyone you see like your long lost best friend, how is anyone supposed to know when you really do care about them? I think it's a fair question.

But still, even knowing much of it is a ruse, as an American I find the seas of smiles and how-ya-doins so comforting. I'm excited to be thrown back into it, but it's entirely possible that the Germans have had their way with me, and I'll find myself just as baffled by all the American über-friendliness as a German would be.

And so my question is, if I can't keep up my German habits or reintegrate socially in the United States, where does that leave me? A rude American? A lazy German? I guess I'll have to start my own country.

Anyone interested in homesteading Jasminestan?



JEM