Getting SUPER Pumped!

So I'm going to London on Thursday, and despite being miserably ill for the last two days I am incredibly pumped right now. I've never been to London, unless you count a starbucks stop at the Heathrow Airport.

This trip has been a lot of backwards planning. But in the end, even though it hasn't been the best prepared trip, this might be one of the most exciting weekends of my life.

I'm sure there will be 2 to 4 blog posts about it when I get back, but for now I'm signing off for the week with just a few words:

Doctor Who Celebration, Doctor Who 50th in 3-D, couch surfing meet ups, and Les Mis with Carrie Fletcher.

If any one of my college friends is not dying of jealousy right now I don't think they're aware of their own emotions.

I'm a Witch Don'tcha Know?

One of the things I've noticed as a huge cultural divide between Germany and America is the traits parents aim to encourage in their kids. Where as I grew up being supported if not pushed in creativity, leadership and ingenuity, German kids are generally not. The school system seems to lean towards more Asian pedagogy: facts and accuracy are more important than participation or effort. Parents also seem to drive kids along a straight and narrow path. And the kids as a result, are often hesitant to break out of this zone.

I see this a lot when I'm helping with homework or studying. When they don't know the answer I give them time and then try to lead them through the logic to the correct answer. A German teacher or parent in the same situation may be more likely to give them the correct answer and revisit it later. In American schools this kind of route learning is frowned upon, or at least it was for me. The point is not to know that 6 times 7 is 42. The point is to know why 6 times 7 is 42 and not yellow or up or Cannis familiarus. Knowing that in this sentence I use "hers" and not "his" isn't as helpful as knowing why. But slipping into these methods and this pedagogy easily frustrates the Germans. In school it's important to know the answer, but not important to know the reasoning, so that's all they care about.

There are also ways that these different characteristics inhibit my daily interactions with the Germans. I'm a nerd. I like fantasy books and sci-fi television. My imagination runs wild when I'm sitting still. I dream and build crazy worlds in my spare time. And my bed time stories always involve a man named George and the curious things that happen to him. So when I forget myself and reason something with gibberish ("we can't go that way, the mud is clearly deep and poisonous and we will inevitably get stuck in it up to our waists while sword fighting ROUS's"), as I am apt to do spontaneously around anyone under the age of 13, the Germans tend to think I'm crazy.*

Through 3 months with a 3 and a 6 year old, and now with a 10 and a 15 year old, I've only managed to get a kid to accept that these are jokes, inventions, things to be played upon and developed using the creative side of our brains once:

The fam had made plans for me to take the 10 year old to a friend's after lunch one day of my first week here. The dad had me drive in the morning and showed me where the friend lived and the best way to get there and back. In the afternoon I was driving along with the boy, Luke, when he suddenly turned to me and asked "how do you know where we're going?" I nearly stumbled over it, explaining about the morning drive before I stopped: "Weil ich eine Hexe bin. Ich weiss alles!" (Because I'm a witch. I know everything!). Luke looked at me a little hesitantly, accepted that I was kidding and I thought that was the end of it. Well, actually what I thought was Damn! Another kid who will never defend the play structure from dragons, or make up a secret language, or invent stories while we go on walks. But then about a week later, sitting at the dinner table I answered a question put to the group about the schedule or some such mundane thing, and the mom asked me how in the world I knew that. Luke piped up before I could, simply saying "Because she's a witch." and we both cleared our plates and left the room giggling.

I don't know if valuing one set of character traits in a population is better than another. I don't know if any country raises better kids than any other. I do know that I value leadership skills (listening, decision making and group/activity facilitation) over passiveness or following. I value creativity in logic or art over the "correct answer" or the "correct way". And I value an open-mindedness and acceptance of a plurality over a straight and narrow path. But I think that part of holding those values is knowing that neither the American nor the German way of raising kids is the right way if only because there is no right way. These kids are who they are, only partially a result of the society they were raised in. I wish they understood my sense of humor a little better. But I here that no one really understands my sense of humor. So I guess the best I can do is try to learn who they are and teach them who I am, and both become a little more pluralist in the process.



*Because this is something new. Americans never think I'm crazy.

What to do with your family once you've left

If you've read the posts from about 2 months ago you'll know that I had a few really awful weeks with my first family that ultimately ended with me leaving. At the time they said they wouldn't be looking to get another Au Pair and I thought this was a good idea because they certainly didn't need or want me in their family and no one should move across the world to live like that.

But in keeping tabs on them today I discovered that they are seeking another Au Pair. And I have no idea how to react to it. Mainly because I have zero recourse in the matter.

This was a family I worked hard to be a part of, I didn't fit with them, I left and on not so good terms. I have a lot of frustration and concern about their search for a new Au Pair. It's a bit like going through an uncomfortable break up, where no matter how mutual it is, when you meet the person they're dating now you feel an uncontrollable urge to chase them down the street shouting "WARNING!" at the top of your lungs. You've been there, it sucked, you want to inform others that they should not go there unless ready to face x, y, and z.

Ultimately, even if I had a way to comment on their profile or get in touch with their fresh applicants I know it wouldn't do much good. Like the current girl friend who is warned by the ex, most would brush it off as that crazy Au Pair they had before who was just really not a good person and probably unstable. But I wish that I could let them know just the same.

It's a really difficult thing, being an Au Pair. You're not part of the family, but you're there all the time just like an older sibling. You're integral to the functioning of the household (hopefully) and yet totally replaceable. You know this family today, better than anyone, but if you left tomorrow they wouldn't belong to you or exist by your description any longer. It's especially difficult to be an Au Pair when things aren't going so well or you are about to leave, when all of these things are true in the same moment.

Sometimes I wish I had listened to my dad, gone straight to grad school and was busy teaching in a New York public school right this moment. This isn't easy, it's more difficult than I thought it would be. I can only hope that when you're paired with the right family, the end result is worth a year of turmoil.



By the by, if I could add an amendment to Tina and Mike's profile it would go like this:

"I spent 3 months living with the (family name omitted)'s and getting to know all four of them quite well. They are a loud and vivacious bunch who are certainly true to their Bavarian roots. I think the only affects 4 years living in the states had on them is that Mike bakes the family's bread and all have a propensity for Cars. I decided to leave this family, ending my contract early, after Tina told me that I wasn't fitting in well and she didn't think she could live with me. 90% of this I chalk up to a bad match made by all of us. I am a quiet person, though rowdy and playful with kids, I like reading, I need alone time, I take daily walks because my head gets clogged with thoughts, and I enjoy observing and listening at the dinner table more than talking. I am generally emotionally reserved. And the cherry on the cake? I am confident being this person, because this is the true me. Now take that description, flip it on it's head and that's Tina. You can see how this would be a bad fit.

"If you're looking to join this family I would make a few suggestions as to who you are: talkative, with everyone, all the time, day and night; a work in progress as a person--maybe it's your first time away from home, your first time in a foreign country, you don't speak the language, some insecurity that can be a project for you and Tina to bond over; love, love, love really little kids--every single child I met in Germany acts 2-3 years younger than their American equivalent, so if you're used to American independent 6 year olds be prepared for a 4 year old; and finally I would say that this family would work best with someone who is very open about their emotions, happy, smiling and bubbly the vast majority of the time, not at all concerned with crying in front of the whole family, and who displays every emotion readily on their face. If you fit that description you will likely find yourself having the easiest job in the world with this family."

Funny Conversations

My German is getting better. Remarkably so. But every once in awhile there's a false cognate that totally trips me up like "Indianer" which sounds a lot like "Indiana" when said with a proper German accent.

This is how I found out:

M: "I was in New York once, I did a whole trip in... when was it?"
P: "2007. I was in the fourth class."
M: "Right you were doing a report on Indianer and I brought back buffalo meat for the class."
P: "Yep."
Me: "...ummm... I don't think there are buffalo in Indiana."
All the Germans laugh at me.

Nothing like a stupid American to lighten up a dinner party!

Halloween in Germany

Halloween stopped being all that exciting for me when I was 13 and my dad told me I couldn't go trick-or-treating anymore because I was too old. So while my friends went around the neighborhood collecting candy from strangers I started a new tradition: stay at home and watch Mel Brooks' Young Frankenstein with your finger on the pause button, jumping up every 5 minutes to answer the door and hand out candy to appropriately aged children. After 9 years of this I can mouth every joke along with the film. But if there's one kind of comedy that doesn't translate to German it's Mel Brooks' Young Frankenstein. Double entendre directly translated into another language and based around a collection of colloquialisms some how isn't funny.

But despite having my family tradition crumble around me I was determined to bring a little American to this holiday. I'll do Christmas their way, they had it first. But Thanksgiving and Halloween are from North America, post hoc, ergo propter hoc: my deal.

Thankfully American Halloween has somewhat seeped into German culture already (Thanksgiving I'm going to have to build from the ground up).

The kids carve pumpkins every year--we just had to work on the idea that carving pumpkins is something best done on the kitchen floor and pumpkin seeds are for saving, baking and eating.

All the time Prim was carving this one I couldn't stop singing "this is Halloween, this is Halloween" which they apparently play on repeat in Europa Park (the Disney Land of Germany)

I did manage to convince them that in absence of decorations we would have to decorate sugar cookies, which went over remarkably well and which were gone remarkable quickly (I sent half of them home with the friend who came over to decorate with us).

Cookies

More cookies

Favorite cookie. It was delicious.

Costumes are a part of German Halloween already, but they choose their costumes the day before from whatever they can find around. There are decidedly no party stores in Germany, and costume stores? Forget about it! But even the parents got in on the action: a group of the adults dressed up and went to a Scottish bar apparently. At least this was the justification I was given as to why everyone got home so late and was singing "Loch Lomond" in the morning. The one thing markedly absent: skimpy costumes. Everyone I saw was well layered and wearing gloves because it's cold here and they are reasonable people.

There is one thing adorable about German Halloween that I wish Americans would adopt: they don't say "trick or treat". Instead the group of kids or one kid comes up with an original poem or rhyme that says something about their costume and their desire for candy. I didn't understand what they were saying at all, but they did work for their chocolate and it was totally adorable.

The one thing German Halloween is totally missing out on: Halloween movies. They have the Disney channel, they have R.L. Stein, but they don't show Halloween movies even on the telly, even on Halloween. This seems a terrible waste to me, especially as someone has gone through the trouble of properly dubbing Hocus Pocus for German children.

All in all Halloween went by in a fairly normal way. I brought in a little more American to the holiday, then failed to do anything on the actual day and ended up turning off all the lights on the first floor and playing guitar because I didn't understand I was being left at home to hand out candy to groups of rhyming German children.

Lazy Days

For those family and friends who get nervous when I don't write a blog post or tweet for several days, let me just say I am alive, and oh so lazy. The German word for lazy is faul and is pronounced like "fowl". It really is a perfect word. So after I finish my chore for the day: cleaning the floors; I promise to curl up in bed, download recent photos, and write blog posts.

Ja. Okay. Entschuldigung alle! Nur dass ich so faul bin. Bis gleich.

Oktoberfest (but the real one)

Coming from Portland, Oregon, the micro-brew capital of the world, I know good beer. We've got "Oktoberfest" which most bars misspell "Octoberfest", and my dad and I go every year to at least one. Of course we look crazy getting drunk in our German finery on the west coast of the States.

Being responsible Germans, everyone takes the S-Bahn to Oktoberfest, which is packed and doesn't run between 3:30 and 5 am, which can get you into trouble if you try an after party and miss the last train.

But you can traverse as many bars or outdoor festivals as you want, even coming from a place well known for beer, nothing can prepare you for the size and drunkenness that is the real Oktoberfest. I was lucky enough to have my dad come visit me for the last week of Oktoberfest, and I ended up there three days in a row. So what's it like?

Fun.

Well it's the size of about 3 state fairs stacked end to end. Split into two primary isles there's the north side with food stands, amusement park rides and several rotating bars (essentially yurts that serve alcohol and rotate like the top of the space needle--if that's not a bad idea for drunk people I don't know what is). And then there's the south side with all of the entrances to the tents. And if you're over 16 that's where you want to be.

The tents are all decorated differently but generally they're the size of airline hangers filled with picnic tables with a large, raised stage in the middle where a band is always playing, switching between ompa music and classic rock (the strangest combination, but this time I was prepared). These tents fill up at 11 am when they open, and stay full until they stop serving at midnight. You have to be seated to get a beer (this is a general rule for Oktoberfest. No walking around getting drunker, just walking around being drunk) so the seats can get pretty competitive. But if you're friendly you can usually get a seat for at least one person in your group. Then everyone gets served and you meet some great Auslanders (foreigners). The tables on the outside of the tent are all reserved, but the tables in the middle are first come, first served until they're full. At which they close the tents to new entrants.

So we use the term "tents" loosely, as they have two stories, bathrooms and hardwood floors.

And that is how I spent my first night at Oktoberfest, all dressed up with no way to get into a tent. You can sit outside at the Biergartens that some of the tents have (but not when it's 2 degrees Celsius). Luckily the next two days were better weather and we went early as to get seats.

We dragged my dad from the airport, home to change and then right to Oktoberfest, he was pretty tired by the end.

Arne had these all day and they drove Birgit (his wife) crazy. That was as hilarious as anything.

So after finally getting seats for us all, meeting some great Germans and foreigners, we drank bier. Lots of bier. It only comes in litters and you don't get a choice of types, you just give the waitress a number and pay. Don't confuse this with your "beer". Nope. Bier.

Unfortunately for me, dirndls are not the most comfortable thing to drink bier and eat salty food in. I ended up at home by 10 pm each night (leaving my dad and our family friend alone to bring great drunk stories home the next morning). It's enough to make a girl want to buy Lederhosen.

Then again, they make you look like this.

That last day my dad was having a LOT of fun

Photos courtesy of Birgit and Arne Franke. Because my camera was too expensive to carry around drunk.

We took this first... but it is technically the end.

An American am Boden See

So I moved to lake Konstance this week (a.k.a. Boden See). The family is new (obvs), the weather is cold and grey, the dialect is crazy, and the people are used to Americans.

Now most of the time in Europe I hide my American identity as best I can. If asked I won't lie. But waving an American flag, or telling everyone you're an American right off the bat is generally a bad idea when your federal government is about to default on its debt ceiling and greatly impact the local economy. Yep, bad idea.

Except for yesterday. Yesterday I was picking up my kid at the bus station when a 10 or 11 year old girl walked up to me to ask if her bus had already been by. I had forgotten the word for schedule ("Plannen") so I had to apologize for not speaking very good German, and when I explained that I came from the U.S.A. her whole demeanor changed. She got that really wide-eyed awe look that only children can pull off, and said "Oh! I love the U.S.A." and then promptly ran away.

So I guess not everyone hates Americans.

Oktoberfest, Visit from Dad, and the new family soon.

Castle Time

I forgot to show you Neuschwanstein! Woops! I went to what is likely the most iconic castle in the world a few weeks ago. This was my second visit, but seeing as it's been 17 years, it seemed reasonable to repeat the experience. The surrounding town is nice, if a little swanky and touristy, so if you want to go play Belle, plan on taking the whole day. The tour is short, and there's not a hell of a lot of detail, so if you happen to speak a language that is not German or English fluently it's worth it to go on the audio tour rather than the guided tour (the audio tour is not offered in German or English because the Universe hates you and assumes you are uninterested in a detailed history of every room). Unfortunately you cannot take pictures inside, so all I have is outside shots, but lovely still.

As seen from well below in town. I may have not seen this for the first 5 minutes we were off the bus until someone pointed it out to me... maybe.

Because it wouldn't be complete without a drawbridge

Waiting for a tour can be surreal, all of the tourists mingle together in the courtyard, lounging around the castle, finally using it the way it was meant to be used.

The inner courtyard

The horrendous view from the balcony

My traveling companions

The whole area is surrounded by wilderness, waterfalls, lakes, mountains, it's crazy

A more famous view of the castle, though my damn lens was just a little too big.

What Living in Europe Feels Like

Following my rejection from Teach for America I developed a defensive mechanism: I don't think about what I've left behind, or where I am or where I'm going. At least not too much. I try to just make simple plans and live my life, and deal with the issue right in front of me. In terms of leaving my life behind, having a bad experience with my first family, and missing my ride to Belgium, this works really well. Unfortunately it also dulls my awe and respect for living in beautiful Bavaria.

But sometimes I'm standing on a train platform, or running away from a thunder storm, or reflexively answering a question in German and the reality of my position becomes abundantly apparent. I'm overcome with this feeling of jubilation and elation. The way you feel when John Williams has been timed perfectly to the emotion of a film. All of the sudden I am completely aware of being in Europe, of living here, of being a German. I don't feel like a tourist, or like I'm just letting my life pass me by. I feel in those brief moments, great. And not in the common sense of the word, but in the Charlemagne, Helen of Troy, Jed Bartlett way. The Kings of Old way. I feel large and powerful and beautiful and clever and unique and perfect. I feel like the best version of myself and I doubt nothing. Then the last few notes of King of Anything or Chip on my Shoulder or Defying Gravity fade and the moment passes. Then I'm an American again, standing like a tourist waiting for a train in a country where we don't speak the language. Walking home at night feels strange again. The angst creeps back in on me. And I wait, for another one of those moments.

This is what it feels like to live in Europe. Or maybe this is just what it feels like to live.