It's probably classifiable as some sort of disorder, but I'm willing to admit that I'm 26 years old and I love dressing up in costumes.
I was one of those morons in high school who lived for spirit week. (Dear Germans: In America public high schools have sports teams and mascots and cultivate a strong sense of loyalty and enthusiasm we call "school spirit". Many schools designate one week each year as "spirit week" in which students are invited to exhibit their spirit by dressing up like idiots with themes like "Hippie Day", "Crazy Hair Day", and "Backwards Day". Cool kids generally avoid participation. I participated to a humiliating degree.) And I was literally the only person in the newsroom of my last American employer who would dress up for work on Halloween. I didn't realize this would be the case the first year. After that I knew it would be the case, but I did it anyway.
I take my costuming seriously. Which does not mean that my costumes have always been good. Case in point: The Sheet Angel fiasco of Halloween 2004.
It does, however, mean that I try to put genuine effort in my costumes, and I generally get a good laugh out of the final product. And sometimes it does work, see Exhibit A: Jake and I partying as Mr. and Mrs. Macphisto, Halloween 2003:
(For the uninitiated, Macphisto was an alter-ego of Bono's during the early '90s ...)
That herculean effort of spray painting an entire suit gold unfortunately drained Jake, and all my costuming efforts since have been on my own with Jake rolling his eyes behind me with love.
ANYWAY, the thing is, Germany doesn't really do Halloween. It's coming gradually. But it's not a real nationally embraced thing yet. (Interesting tidbit: I heard that Germany's first real introduction to Halloween was via the film "E.T. the Extraterrestrial", and it's been slowly gaining steam ever since.) Germany's costume holiday is Fasching, a.k.a. Carnivale, a.k.a. Mardi Gras, a.k.a. Fat Tuesday. I didn't realize this our first year here, and when I went to our church's kids' Fasching party to help out, I found to my horror that I was the only person without a costume. I was mortified. Last Fasching I was unable to participate again because of Jethro reasons. And so this year I had some serious catch-up to do. And for the first time in seven years, I had a partner in crime — whether he liked it or not. So at the church party on Saturday (actual Fasching is Feb. 16), this was me and Jethro:
Spock to Enterprise: My mother is a sick, sick woman.
Yeah, yeah, I know Spock is supposed to have two gold bands on his sleeves but I ran out of trim, OK? I understand now why chicks in '60s only washed their hair once a week.
On another Fasching-related note, I'd just like to observe that as far as I can tell, the top three Fasching costumes here, with adults and kids alike seem to be cowboy, American Indian, and clown. As an American, I think the first two are so random. Not that cowboy and Indian aren't fine costumes, I'm just not sure why Germans have adopted them. The clown just further deepens my conviction that not enough Germans have become acquainted with "It". The clown motif is a really common one here with kids toys and decorations. These people genuinely seem to like clowns. No clown toys in my house, though. *shudder*
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.
And now for the anti-climactic conclusion of Obama's visit to Dresden ...
Massive jets carrying an army of shiny, bulky, black American SUVs and sedans and even two helicopters (who knew you could transport a helicopter in an airplane?) landed in Dresden days before the President himself did. Dresden's two most luxurious hotels were emptied — to the fury of their wealthy guests — to house the president and his entourage for one night. The city's public transit system was completely scrambled starting a couple of days before his arrival to ensure that the high security areas would stay secure while he was here. Naturally, the city's police force was pushed to its limits trying to keep the most powerful man in the world safe under their watch. I never realized what it took for an American president to travel. Wherever he goes, mountains must be moved. The American taxpayers do some of the moving, but a great deal of it is also done by the host. I've heard it estimated that Dresden spent something like €15 million in anticipation of Obama's visit.
And amazingly, it was all done with a smile. The city was plastered with "Welcome Mr. President!" signs and decals on every tram, and all of downtown was cloaked in red, white, and blue in anticipation of his arrival. To be entertaining its first American president was exciting enough, but to be entertaining Obama, easily Germany's favorite U.S. prez since JFK, was almost more than could be borne. Even though it was clear that his time in Dresden would be short and that, in fact, no public address was planned, the media couldn't help but pre-emptively quote Obama as reprising and revamping JFK's beloved line: "Ich bin ein Dresdner!"
The Man of the Hour flew into the Dresden airport from Cairo at about 11 p.m. on Thursday and within 12 hours he was gone. Jake and I had foolishly decided to meet for lunch downtown to see the circus, but by noon the crowds had vaporized, the barricades were being taken down, and all that was left were a few sort of sad little reminders that he was even here at all.
"Free Amerikaners for everyone!" Amerikaners are a German baked treat that I think are an attempt at a frosted sugar cookie, although, to be sure, I've never seen anything really resembling an Amerikaner in America.
"'YES WE CAN' 20% off everything only on June 4 and 5 'IT'S OBAMA'S DAY'"
To be honest with you, the most exciting part of Obama's visit to Dresden for me, was seeing Tom Brokaw interview him in the courtyard of the Zwinger (one of my favorite places in the city) the next day on the Nightly News.
I suppose I'm glad that my president isn't wasting any time. He has a lot of work to do, and it appears that he's fully aware of that. But as a resident of Dresden, I can't help but feel just a little heartbroken that he didn't have time to stand before the people of Dresden for 2 minutes and say, "You've got a real nice city here. Thanks for putting me up. Hope. Change. Yes, we can."
I suppose I can settle for this politically significant press conference with German Chancellor Angela Merkel at Dresden's famous Grünes Gewölbe, or Green Vault treasure museum:
OK, here's the video with subtitles, courtesy my darling husband. Enjoy!
And to answer your question, Livia, the news team found us through this blog. Apparently when you google "American Dresden", it comes up for some reason.
Everybody, real quick go to this link —http://www.tagesschau.de/multimedia/video/video507596.html — to see Jake and me on the German news before they take it down. In the meantime, we'll try to figure out how to download it and put it up permanently.
Dear Germans, I apologize for slaughtering your language.
That's right, our president is coming to visit us. Presumably, he'll be wearing a shirt. Though all bets are off on the suitcoat.
The city of Dresden appears to be quite stoked about the whole (rather baffling) situation, as evidenced by this photo on the city website of our mayor smiling with her TEETH!!!
The enthusiasm is also made evident by the site's "craft corner", which offers several high resolution print-offs that can be turned into little flags so that we can all greet the American president in the manner to which he's accustomed (thanks for the tip, Adrienne): Reports say he won't be here on state business and won't be stopping by Berlin to shake hands with Angela Merkel (much to her party's chagrin in this election year). This article in Der Spiegel says it's a "personal trip", in part to visit the Buchenwald concentration camp, which is not far from here. The president's great-uncle served as an American infantryman in this area during World War II and took part in the liberation of one of Buchenwald's smaller satellite work camps.
Other reports say that the President also plans to visit locations in Dresden particularly significant to the 1945 firebombing of the city, including the Frauenkirche. Some suggest he may make a statement in Dresden "acknowledging German suffering in World War II", which has apparently infuriated some Americans, who feel that doing so would not only be an apology, but would also somehow validate Nazism. (Take your pick from the raging blogospherehere.)
I'm far from an expert on WWII or the bombing of this city, but I know enough to know that tens of thousands of people died that night in a truly horrifying fashion. I'm not going to say that it was right or wrong. War is hell, as the saying goes, and we certainly know that the German Luftwaffe took scores of lives in the exact same manner in Great Britain prior to the bombing of Dresden. Military strategy aside, however, I know that most of the people who died on Feb. 13, 1945, in Dresden were civilians, including women and children, and many were refugees. I don't know how many of those were Nazi sympathizers, but I do know they were all human. And I can acknowledge that they and their families suffered. I don't think doing so diminishes the crimes Nazi Germany committed or my own American patriotism.
If the rumors are true about the statement Obama will make here, I'm glad. I think it's a nice gesture, and a good reminder that our enemies, no matter who or where they are, are all human. And they suffer, too. Just like Americans.
Herzlichwillkommenin Dresden, Mr. President. I hope you enjoy your stay.
We had to visit the Foreigner Office last month for the millionth time since landing in Dresden, this time for visa renewals for Jake and me and a first-time visa for Jethro. I think the petite, poker-faced, bespectacled woman we always get is warming up to us the longer we're here. In the beginning it felt a little like she was trying to make our lives miserable. I think the lowest point was when she refused to accept our spartan Idaho marriage license because it didn't look official. (We had to write to the Idaho State government, and they had to write to the Foreigner Office vouching for our marital status.) But over the last almost 2 years, we've tried to maintain our civility with her. I think that, combined with watching my pregnant belly grow with each visit over the last year, and now seeing us with a baby on our laps as she stamps our forms, has softened her up a little. In fact, last week, as she was standing over the photocopier making copies of our expired visas, she actually smiled in response to a happy squeal from Jethro.
The alien experience is a humbling one. Being herded from bureaucracy to bureaucracy and having your existence reduced to documents and numbers can be a little dehumanizing, but I've also come to respect the system. I finally get why you can't just pitch a tent on any nation you want and decide to make it your home. I finally get that the way immigration is handled can make or break a country. Since coming to Germany, I've been acutely aware that I am a guest here. The German taxpayers are allowing me to use their public transit system and their health care programs and their clean and beautiful public spaces, and I feel a strong responsibility to be a good guest.
And part of that is learning their language. Even though most Germans have at least a little English, I've tried (as much as has been possible) to avoid making them use it. This is their country, and I should adapt to them. Not the other way around. I had a little bit of German when we got here, but I still couldn't understand a word of what people said to me or choke out a coherent sentence when pressed. Learning German has been one of the hardest things I've ever done in my life. It has involved countless hours of studying and listening and taking notes. And it has involved looking like an idiot almost daily. I'm sure I've used the phrases, "Langsamer, bitte!" ("Slower, please!") and "Noch einmal?" ("One more time?") thousands of times. I have regularly wanted to slam my head through a wall, and for the first few months I don't think a day went by that my anxiety over the language didn't bring me to tears. It is a painful experience to have your language — in my case, the thing I've devoted my life to studying and perfecting — be rendered meaningless.
But as the months passed, an incredible thing happened. I started understanding people, and I started to be able to express myself very simply. Today, my German is still very, very rough. I suspect I sound like a 2-year-old to Germans most of the time. A 2-year-old with a weird accent. And I still don't understand as much as I'd like to. I have to concentrate hard when I listen to people. I furrow my brow and squint and stare at their lips. But I'd say that most of the time I understand at least the gist of things, usually more than that. I can hold coherent conversations, follow instructions, ask questions. After about 6 months of pregnancy my OBGYN changed and from then on all my pre-natal checkups were in German, and I got by just fine. Jethro's doctor speaks only German, and we've had no problems so far. I'm an active visiting teacher, and, though it may seem like a small thing, a couple of months ago I bore my testimony in church for the first time without notes or a completely memorized routine — and I felt golden for the rest of the day.
I appreciate now, more than ever, how difficult it is to learn a language. But I've learned that, with effort and humility, it does come. And I feel more strongly than ever that a country's residents should speak — or at least be learning to speak — its language. When I think of the all the free services in the U.S. set up to help immigrants learn English, I ache with envy. After going through this here, I have no patience for people who live in the U.S. for years, even decades, and can't conduct a simple sales exchange in English. That being said, however, I also have zero patience for any American who mocks immigrants for their accents or their halted speech or who ever utters the words, "Learn English or go home!" without ever attempting to learn another language themselves.
We aliens shouldn't be coddled or patronized. If we are, the system won't work. But we do need the patience and kindness of the native citizens if we are ever expected to assimilate and grow. So thanks for the smile, glasses lady at the foreigner office. It means more than you realize.
Although I'm not currently working as a journalist, I still consider myself one and try to hold myself to the standards I like to think good journalists hold themselves to, namely keeping my personal political opinions private. I'm not opposed to sharing them in private, but I try to avoid broadcasting them to the universe.
That's why I wasn't going to bring this up at all.
But for the last couple of days I've had the almost irresistible urge to elbow strangers in public and, beaming, say, "Hey! I'm an American! Did you hear what we did?" And I just realized that this feeling has nothing to do with my personal political opinions — but, rather, everything to do with my homeland proving, yet again, that anything is possible on its soil.
And I'm proud of us.
JEM
P.S. Here's a great (and short) piece about how, all of a sudden, being an American in Europe is OK.
I've got a 2008 U.S. presidential absentee ballot sitting in my e-mail inbox. I'm supposed to print it out, fill in the bubbles next to my choices with a dark-colored ballpoint pen (not red), stuff it in an envelope and send it back to the Cache County Clerk's office in Logan, Utah, my last American residence, by Nov. 3.
How to spot a German tourist Any combination of two or more of the following traits strongly indicate that observed tourist(s) may be German. 1. Wearing glasses. Especially if the frames are excessively angular and/or brightly colored. 2. Extraordinarily well-behaved. They wait patiently at crosswalks when no cars are in sight and everyone else has crossed the street already. They also never cut in line. 3. Quiet. Unlike their Mediterranean-area European Union brothers and sisters, Germans almost never raise their voices in public. And unlike the Americans, they don't talk if they have nothing to say. 4. Wife looks like she could take her husband in a fair fight. This isn't true of all German couples, but it is apparently much more common among middle-aged to older German couples than it is among couples of the same demographic from other nations, because it was a dead giveaway for us every time. 5. Strange, short, asymmetrical hairstyles on otherwise conservative looking middle-aged women.
How to spot an American tourist Any combination of two or more of the following traits strongly indicate that observed tourist(s) may be American. 1. Wearing T-shirts. 2. Smiling with their teeth for photos. Without fail, every person we noticed smiling broadly between a camera and the Eiffel Tower was an American. Everyone else either gave a more demure closed-mouth smile, or didn't bother smiling at all. 3. Laughing loudly. 4. Wearing baseball caps. 5. Talking about people openly in front of them, assuming (usually erroneously) that the people being discussed can't understand English.
Germans love Barack Obama. LOVE. They think he's Ghandi and MLK and JFK and Nelson Mandela and Mother Theresa and Bono and Jesus Christ all rolled into one convenient, charismatic package. As soon as my English students find out I'm American, I can assume that the next words out of their mouths will be something to the effect of, "How about that Barack Obama, huh? Isn't he great?" They can pontificate at length about how much they adore him and how they can't wait for him to become president of the United States so that he can unite the whole world give everyone a free puppy.
The rush of emotion always comes to a halt, however, when I ask them, "Why do you like him so much?" They puzzle over this for a moment and eventually shrug and admit that they don't really know. The best they can muster is that he seems to be a lot better than Bush (who, I have to remind them, isn't on the ballot this time around) and that he says he wants to patch things up with Europe.
And then I ask them what they think about John McCain, and the response is, inevitably, "Who?"
So I hope I don't sound too jaded and cynical when I say that Obama speaking in Berlin to 200,000 people who can't even vote for him looks a lot like an attempt to say, "See, America? All the cool kids over here in Europe are into it ..."
From the BBC today: Bush in Germany on 'final tour'
Mr Bush was greeted by Mrs Merkel as he arrived in Germany
US President George W Bush is in Germany on the latest leg of what is likely to be his last tour of Europe.
His talks with Chancellor Angela Merkel are expected to focus on Afghanistan, Iran and the Middle East peace process.
Earlier, Mr Bush attended a summit with EU leaders in Slovenia where they threatened Iran with further sanctions unless it suspended nuclear enrichment.
He said an Iran with a nuclear weapon would be "incredibly dangerous" to world peace.
Mr Bush will later travel to Italy, France and the UK on what is being seen as an eight-day farewell tour of Europe.
During the trip, Mr Bush has held out the prospect of a global deal on combating climate change, which he said could be achieved by the end of his term in office in January.
US President George W Bush issues Iran warning
The US president and his European hosts ended the summit by admiring a show of Slovenia's dancing Lipizzaner horses — a fitting image the BBC's Oana Lungescu at the summit said — as it suggests the days of cowboy diplomacy are over and, after the strains of the Iraq war, Europe and the US seem back in step again.
Whatever divides the US and Europe, our correspondent adds, they remain the world's inevitable partners, united not just by history and values, but also daily trade worth $3bn.
###
Don't tell anybody this, but I secretly relish how much Europeans dislike the U.S. Because no matter how much we disgust them with our fast food and our SUVs and our Wal-Marts, in the end they always have to grit their teeth and smile because we're stuck together, and they know it.
And I think that's kind of funny.
President Bush accepts a barrel of herring as Chancellor of Germany Angela Merkel grits her teeth and smiles.
I'm from Idaho, but I live in Dresden, Germany. In a former life I was a journalist. I'm married to a mad scientist from Las Vegas named Jake, who is working on his Ph.D. here in computational biology. We have a baby boy named Jethro. We are Mormons fascinated by various things. This blog is about our lives, with particular emphasis on life in Germany through the eyes of an American. Enjoy your stay.
It does, however, mean that I try to put genuine effort in my costumes, and I generally get a good laugh out of the final product. And sometimes it does work, see Exhibit A: Jake and I partying as Mr. and Mrs. Macphisto, Halloween 2003:
(For the uninitiated, Macphisto was an alter-ego of Bono's during the early '90s ...)
That herculean effort of spray painting an entire suit gold unfortunately drained Jake, and all my costuming efforts since have been on my own with Jake rolling his eyes behind me with love.
Yeah, yeah, I know Spock is supposed to have two gold bands on his sleeves but I ran out of trim, OK?
I understand now why chicks in '60s only washed their hair once a week.
Happy Fasching, all. Back to my mothership.
