October thoughts

It’s October. I am now beginning my second consecutive and sixteenth total month in Germany. In my combined time I have had the opportunity to visit much of Germany and Europe as well. I love Germany and am glad I am here, and will definitely enjoy my remaining 10 months. I have learned the customs, I know how to read timetables, greet strangers, travel in strange towns, what to do at a dinner party, how to buy food at the market, how to tip at a café, how to behave in a formal situation. My German isn’t perfect; I still make mistakes, I probably always will, and though it is not obvious where I come from, it is noticeable that I come from somewhere else.

Looking back at my pictures from my first few months in Germany, two years ago: I photographed everything. I found the deciduous trees fascinating, I was astounded by Smart cars, impressed by cobblestone streets and red roofs, completely excited by street cafes and pedestrian zones, confused by windows and door locks, and completely flabbergasted by the plethora of ancient churches, castles, buildings, etc.

It’s all become so normal. These things no longer surprise, astound, or confuse me. I am no longer so excited when it rains, particularly in the summer. I no longer have the need to tour every church in town or visit every museum. I no longer stand on the porch with the key, unable to get in because I can’t figure out the lock.

But I miss being astounded by my surroundings. I miss struggling with the language (it’s been a very long time since I used a dictionary for anything other than translating formal documents), new experiences, different architecture, and other lifestyles: I need a challenge. I miss the new and different. I enjoy fiddle playing the most when the tempo is so fast I can barely hang on by the skin of my teeth, when I have to give my all to keep up. I enjoy riding the most when I have a squirrelly horse requiring my constant and undivided attention. I enjoy cities the most when they are new, where each street is a discovery and uncountable treasures await around every new corner.

It’s not that I don’t like routine. I like my days to go a certain way; I eat the same thing for breakfast every day, go running as often as the weather and my somewhat temperamental legs allow, show up for work/class at roughly the same time. I spend my free time in a limited number of ways. I love trying new things but I have a few favorite foods/restaurants/cafes/gelato flavors and also enjoy familiarity, knowing the outcome beforehand.

I like slowly getting to know a new place. First acquaintance is always new and full of mystery. Gradually exploring the streets and surroundings, meeting new people. Finding the right cafes and stores, learning the best baker, the best stand at the market for apples. Learning the language is like slowly cleaning a clouded window—the more you work, the clearer things get, until you are looking through the window. Some spots are still hard to see through, some things still remain hidden, but you can generally see through, and it begins to feel like home, and the language is no longer the shiny new pair of shoes (beautiful, exotic, not always comfortable) but rather the well-loved sweatshirt (warm, comfy, familiar).

I’m not one of Those Americans who travel abroad, who greet every new experience with, “but we do it This way,” or “everything is [insert superlative here: bigger, cheaper, faster, newer, shinier, easier] where I come from.” I don’t tend to evaluate cultural differences, I don’t get upset about things that are different and I don’t make a point of comparing. Lack of window screens here is not better or worse, it just is. I prefer some things in Germany to the United States, and vice versa. I like mineral water more than tap water but I also like free refills. I like having included tax and service at restaurants but appreciate also the more attention one becomes in the US. I like friendly strangers greeting me on the street but I like the fact that Germans don’t ask how you’re doing unless they really care, instead of ‘hihowsitgoin’. I don’t eat American bread on general principle and I don’t buy peanut butter in Germany. I appreciate the things I particularly enjoy about Germany when I am here, I don’t get upset about the things “lacking” or “different,” and I appreciate the American peculiarities when I am there.

I enjoy being the ‘foreigner,’ with its accompanying interest, and enjoy the praise for my hard-won language abilities (of course, I meet a ton of people who speak three or four languages as well as I speak my two, so my head doesn’t stay inflated for long). I don’t tell Europe stories too much in the US—it’s outside many people’s frame of reference, and they get more hung up on the place than the story—and I don’t get to speak German there, but the place really is a part of me and has determined many of my worldviews, so it’s not as if I want to leave the US and never come back.

All in all, Germany and America are my two homes: in both places I have friends and “family,” and I enjoy and look forward to it every time I go from one to another. But I want to live somewhere where I have to learn the language, and I want to experience what it’s like to be a member of a minority, to be visibly different from everyone else, an experience I don’t have in either Germany or the US. One day.