Awaiting reverse culture shock

This past week, I had to give an oral presentation on the "Amerikabild", or image of America from Germany's perspective, during and after the Vietnam War. As a part of this presentation, I had to define anti-Americanism and identify its roots. One author that I read, namely Gert Raiethel, argued that the anti-Americanism present in Europe is a result of America and Europe’s different mentalities. America, a philobat, knows no limits in fulfilling its wishes. It is a capitalist nation to a T. Europe, on the other hand, is an oknophile that shies away from risks and takes pleasure in that which makes him comfortable. Europe, for example, is perfectly fine reading Goethe and Schiller, because it identifies with and has its roots in these authors. Europe is not tempted to expand its horizons when it comes to culture. 

I, myself, identify more with the oknophile rather than the philobat. Although I do like to try new things, I am a person of habit that likes to have the things that I know I like, whether that be in reference to movies, food, music, or literature. This, however, has little to nothing to do with the fact that I have spent nearly ten months in Europe. I have always had this personality: buying a different watch band each time one breaks so I can still use the same watch that I've had since I was 12, ordering black raspberry virtually every time I go out for ice cream back in the states, and watching repeats of Seinfeld every night out of dislike for contemporary television all point to my oknophile mentality.  

It should be no surprise, then, that Monday, while out shopping with Hannah, who returned for a reunion tour last week thanks to the beauty of frequent flyer miles and 21st birthday presents, I succumbed to the longing for familiarity when browsing through old VHS cassettes in a thrift store in the Altstadt. It should be no surprise that, when scanning the titles of said VHS cassettes, one in particular caught my attention and identified itself immediately in my brain as the most excellent of films made in the 1990's and dare I say the 20th century. It should be no surprise that, upon recognizing the blue and red font on the white background so infamously known to belong to this 6-Oscar winning film, I snatched it up and ran to the register right away to purchase my own VHS cassette of Forrest Gump in German. It should be absolutely no surprise at all. 

What should be a surprise, however, is the disappointing difference in technology between the United States and Europe, who each make DVDs and VHS cassettes that don't fit with the other's DVD or VCR player. Luckily, the German House in Middlebury, where I will be setting up camp for my final two semesters next year, owns a German VHS player, which will allow all the German House students to watch not only Forrest Gump, but also Beauty and the Beast and Aladdin "auf Deutsch." Turns out that the +$45,000 tuition does go towards something worthwhile. 

In addition to shopping at Oxfam and giving ironic oral presentations about European prejudices against my own country, Hannah and I also got to do a bit of exploring this week during her visit in Mainz. We finally got to visit Cologne, or Köln, which lies about 2 hours north of Mainz in Rheinland-Westfalia. This was the fourth Bundesland that I had visited in that week, including Rheinland-Pfalz (where I live), Hessen (home of Frankfurt), and finally Thüringen, where my History of the Stasi class took a field trip (some grown up people might say “excursion”) to Erfurt, where old Stasi files are kept and a Stasi prison is located. The Stasi were the secret police for East Germany until the Wall fell in 1989, and essentially spied on the citizens of East Germany as to key in on and eliminate any opposition to the Party or State itself. The Stasi would set up hidden microphones in people's houses, would sabotage people's chances of finding work if they were considered to be "suspicious", and interrogate and torture individuals who were believed to have information of other suspicious figures. There is one case of an individual, Jürgen Fuchs, who had hundreds of condoms delivered to him with his falsified signature in order to sully his reputation, and thereby devalue him in the eyes of other Germans, who might listen to his “conspiring” words against the state. The Stasi were a very extensive force, and kept thousands of files on thousands of individuals and organizations in the GDR. When the Wall fell in 1989, the Stasi tried to destroy as many of these files as possible. Some were shredded, and there are now “puzzle women” who are paid by the state to piece these files back together—at the rate at which they are going, it may take some +325 years to put Humpty Dumpty back together again. 

Former residents of East Germany are allowed to fill out applications to see their own files, which are kept in the capitals of each Kreis, or region, that was mapped out by the Stasi during the GDR. Erfurt was the center of one of these regions. We got to see an example of a file, namely that of Joachim Heise. Heise’s family filled out an application to move out of East Germany. This was seen by the Stasi as “suspicious” activity, and, when Heise later decided to go on a hunger strike to protest the East German government, he was arrested and brought to Erfurt Prison, which we also visited on during excursion. We actually got to meet Heise, who told us his story and showed us the cell in which he stayed during his incarceration. Being inside the prison cell was rather unnerving, but hearing Heise’s own story after reading his file (which he decided to make available to the public) was definitely worth the while. 

As most of you probably know by now, I have had the unfortunate luck known as the “black screen of death”, or a broken computer monitor, during the past month or two. In addition to leaving me stranded and without human contact made available by the world wide web, I am currently unable to upload the lovely pictures taken in Köln and Erfurt, and even other pictures taken around Mainz during this past semester. Therefore, I end this entry short with a “to be continued” clause, and ask you all to stay tuned next for next Saturday, when I will finally reach that haven known as Antrim, NH, after flying into Boston on Wednesday and then spending two nights in Wells, Maine with my mother, aunts, uncles, cousins, and very, very cold ocean water. Hopefully by Saturday I will have the ability to upload photos (let’s be honest, they are the best part), where you will see (among other wonders) beer bicycles, a room filled with bones and skulls claimed to be the remains of 11,000 virgins, and machines that make that glorious concoction known here in Germany as “Schokolade” (which, among other powers, is apparently known to help coughing fits. Too bad I didn’t like chocolate that much as a child. I could have saved my sisters and parents some frustrating nights of hacking away like a pack-a-day smoker). 

So I bid thee Auf Wiederschreiben und -lesen, with the implication that you will, indeed, get to read this blog another day—this time with illustration.

Peace, love, and bring your own bags when grocery shopping,
Amanda

Bir Döner, lutfen!

It’s often been said that, as the homo sapien species evolves, one particular feature of the human body will, eventually, in its lack of necessity to our daily routine, fizzle out. That particular feature is that of the fingernail. Aside from the occasional ability they give us to open stubborn plastic packages and maybe defend ourselves against pinching siblings, fingernails are often, in my opinion, taken much too seriously than need be. The seven-year old tomboy participating in Girl Scouts, for instance, might not receive her “health and beauty” badge because she refuses to succumb to the supposedly aesthetically pleasing ritual of painting nails with the other Brownies. Money spent on manicures and fake nails can be considered superfluous when one later experiences pain “[breaking] a nail opening the mail,” as so poetically expressed by the lovely Shania Twain.

Somehow, however, fingernails have been a common motif in my past few weeks here in Germany. While lying on the Rhein one sunny day with Danielle and Sarah, for example, a crowd of men, led by one man carrying a large basket filled with various beauty products, approached us asking for our help. It was the man with the basket’s bachelor party, and he had, so to say, a list of duties to fulfill given to him by his male friends—a sort of pre-wedding scavenger hunt. He asked if one of us would be willing to offer up a hand to him—one duty was to paint a woman’s fingernails. Thinking this must be one of the more harmless tasks he had to accomplish, I readily accepted, and spent the rest of the day with one hand clumsily painted a light golden brown. I was, needless to say, thankful for the invention of nail polish remover and wasted little time in taking advantage of its powers.

A few weeks later I accompanied Danielle to watch a soccer game in a sports bar with her host father, who is a retired German high school teacher. Although I already knew a bit about Mainz 05, the local soccer team here, I listened to him as he told me about the team colors, red and white, and then enthusiastically held up his left index finger to show me a fake painted nail—half white, half red, with respectively colored rhinestones to complement and embellish the kitschy yet enchanting power of that nail. He only had one, mind you, but he was very proud, and made every effort he could to make sure everyone in that bar saw that nail. Now that’s a man.

While in the bar, I heard some typical “Meenzer” dialect, especially in the heat of the moment where everyone was cheering for Aristide Bancé to “Mach ‘n’ eu!” (Mach ihn hinein, or get it [the ball] in). It took me a while when I came to Mainz to get used to the accent here, especially when hearing people say the negative, “nicht,” as “net,” which sounds incredibly close (in fact identical) to the German word for “nice”. “Kirsche”, the German word for cherry, is often confused with the German word for church, “Kirche,” especially when pronounced by a Pfälzer. The different dialects of Germany only go to show, however, that this country is a country based on regions—people are very proud to share where they come from in Germany, where there is an entirely different dynamic than that found in France, for example, where a global city of lights tends to steal all of the focus from the other regions. This is another important part of studying in Mainz, a regional center, as opposed to Berlin during my ten months in Germany.

Last week, Middlebury celebrated its 50 year anniversary of its relationship with the “School in Germany,” and even flew out President Ronald Liebowitz (the man, the myth, the legend), Professors Roman Graf and Murray Dry, and other important study abroad figures for a large, rather chic dinner at a fancy hotel in Mainz, located directly on the Rhine. Everything was organized beautifully, and many toasts were shared—both in English and in German. The irony of celebrating the effective implementation of the language pledge while hearing English speeches and speaking with other Americans who came to celebrate cannot be understated. It was, however, quite splendid—there’s no other word for it. Catered food, local wine—and even a speech by Murray Dry, the most feared Middlebury political science professor, in an American-accented German, made the evening quite special.

Danielle, Christian, K. (another American girl) and I actually did some party planning of our own this past week, and threw a four-way May birthday party in the student bar right on campus last night. People danced, brought us chocolate, and even baked tiramisu. Singing happy birthday (in multiple languages, mind you) sounded similar to the Proctor family birthday celebrations where one tries to squish as many names as possible (never knowing, of course, which order to use [Christian, K., Danielle, Amanda….or is it Amanda, K., Christian, Danielle?]) into four beats while remaining in unison with other singers. Needless to say, it warmed my heart.

Peace, love, and yes, men do wear purses,
Amanda

Wall Woodpeckers

Back in the good ol’ US of A, the most “typisch Deutsch” thing that I ever did was to dress in Lederhosen for Halloween when I was about five years old. It was the first year that I didn’t wear the butterfly costume previously worn every 31st of October, and the year Quinlan child #2 decided to be a princess--dressed in pink, no less. And, since my green pointed hat and short hair cut made me look rather androgynous, Quinlan child #2 also decided that I would be the perfect “prince charming” to accompany her trick-or-treating. Needless to say, the whole idea of being my sister’s prince, or a prince in general, wasn’t too appealing. My opinion of Lederhosen has, needless to say, never been 100% unbiased.

During the past few months, however, I have really tried to experience the “typisch Deutsch” and embrace the stereotypical associations one generally makes when thinking of Germany. Friends and I go out for a beer (shocking, I know), and then grab a Wurst mit Senf for the bus ride home (I even received a frequent customer card from the vendor—the Wurst vendor, that is). We meet soccer players from local teams, who share the equivalent status of baseball players in the United States, and have riden down the Autobahn (yes, it’s no rumor, you can go very, very fast) in Volkswagens and Mercedes. We go for Sunday walks on the river, and eat Liebekuchen with hearty appetites. We eat Schnitzel and Maultauschen and mix Coca-Cola with red and white wine to make “Cola-Weiss.” And, of course, we eat Brezeln. Brezeln, Brezeln, Brezeln.

This past weekend, Rachel, who just arrived for the spring semester, journeyed with me to make the “typisch Deutsch” pilgrimage to Berlin, the Hauptstadt of Germany, with the help of Mitfahrgelegenheiten, the German website that facilitates carpooling within Germany and also abroad. We met Lisa, our ride from Mainz, and her friend at 8AM and arrived in Berlin (after exposure to a decent amount of American pop music) around 2:30. After dropping off those “typisch” backpacks found in the possession of many Germans, Rachel and I headed out to see the Gedächtniskirche on the Kurfürstendamm before meeting up with Sam, my friend from high school, later on that night. We also trekked through KaDeWe, one of the largest (and also one of the more expensive) department stores in Europe. Rachel and I were a bit out of place, seeing as how all of the people that were actually shopping there already dressed perfectly from head toe in entirely designer makes. But it was no big thing—only water
off our backpack-free shoulders.

After finally meeting up with Sam, the three Americans happened upon a delicious Vietnamese restaurant called DuDu. Although not “typisch Deutsch,” we were very pleased with our decision, and later paired the store with a magnet we saw in a souvenir shop:

To be is to do- Kant
To do is to be- Nietzsche
Do-bee-do-bee-do- Frank Sinatra

Perhaps this is indicative of anti-American sentiment that claims the US holds little cultural or intellectual value. But, for purposes of our egos, we'll focus merely on its amusing nature.

On Saturday we also ate at the purportedly best falafel restaurant in Berlin, which was called DaDa. To quote Thoreau: “Simplicity, simplicity, simplicity!” …and such was the motto for restaurant names in Berlin. DaDa, DuDu. Scooby-do-bee-do.

The next day we got up early to first buy Brötchen (no baguettes in Germany—we actually have bread that consists of multiple grains in this marvelous country [not to mention Vollkornbrot, which is the closest thing to meatloaf found in an actal slice of bread]), Gouda and clementines for a picnic before heading in to see remnants of the Berlin Wall at Potsdamer Platz that Rachel and I actually stumbled upon the night before while debating on whether said Platz was in East or West Germany before 1989. We decided that we would seize the day and the nice weather that came along with it to take all of our photographs outdoors, and continued on to see the Reichstag and the Brandenburger Tor, when we literally happened upon Das Denkmal für die Ermordeten Jueden Europas, or the Memorial of the Murdered Jews of Europe, and decided to pay a visit. The memorial is very simple yet very moving, with various sized cement blocks lined in a maze-like fashion and paths that vary in elevation and move in between these blocks. Underneath the memorial is the Information Center, where we spent a bit of time reading about the history behind the Holocaust and personal stories of individuals and families, as well as actual letters written by Jews to family members describing either their fears of the prospect of being arrested or their attempts to describe the conditions in the concentration camps, which were usually censured out with big, black marks by the Nazis if not somehow smuggled outside. It was a very powerful memorial, and, due to its placement right near the Brandenburger Tor and the Reichstag, symbolizes how memories of the Holocaust are now at the forefront of German society. No one will deny what happened without being seriously reprimanded.

Sam, Rachel and I continued on to see the Reichstag, or the main government building in Berlin and therefore also Germany, and picnicked in front on the grass before striking out to see the Tor and Unter den Linden, Berlin’s most famous street. In 1647 1,000 Linden trees were planted on the road in between the Berliner Stadtschloss and the Tiergarten, which is why this road is now called “Unter den Linden,” or under the linden trees. It is also representative of the very green nature of the city itself. We walked on to see the Berliner Dom, where we were able to climb up to the top and get awesome views of the city while walking around the Kuppel. Then, on our way out to find a café and take a break, we came across the Ampelmann store, where, since Berlin’s pedestrian lights are, or were originally, unique to the city, lots of merchandise relating to the “Ampelmann,” or street-light man, can be found. There was everything from sponges to lawn chairs. I settled for a t-shirt.

Later on Rachel, Sam and I took a jaunt down to see Checkpoint Charlie after visiting an Eiscafé, and then later made our way down to the East Side Gallery, where even more of the former Berlin Wall can be found. In 1990 118 artists from all over the world came to paint this part of the wall—it is now being renovated, which is currently a huge debate within not only Berlin but also Germany.

We then found our way back to Alexanderplatz, where we found a real, “typisch Deutsch” restaurant to relax with beer, Maultauschen and Schnitzel before calling it a night and heading back to our hostel for some shut-eye. The next morning we got up early with the intention of seeing several museums, but got pulled into the Jewish Museum and were simply unable to leave until we had spent a decent four to five hours there. Needless to say, we were pretty museum-ed out for the day, although it was definitely a good one to pick out of all of the possibilities offered by the city. While there, I had listened to a few songs written by Jewish composers, including "Die Fuge aus der Geographie" (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Y2DkkjrfDy8&feature=related) by Ernst Toch, with which I proceeded to infect both Sam and Rachel for the remainder of the trip. They should have known to keep the headphones away from me. After the museum, we gathered our strength again after drinking hot chocolate, and continued on.

After visiting the Tiergarten and Gendarmenplatz, we then ate, drank, and were yet again satisfied (only after ice cream, of course), and attempted to visit the Reichstag at night, where one can climb up to the dome at the top and get yet another “Blick” of Berlin. Unfortunately we were 20 minutes too late, and missed our opportunity to see the stomping grounds of Angela Merkel and other German government officials. Who knows—maybe I would have gotten to see her personal doctor after getting a bloody nose. I guess we’ll never find out.

Unfortunately we also had very little luck when we went to go see the Olympic Stadium the next morning before taking off for Frankfurt. We picked, apparently, the “one day” where there was a soccer game in the stadium, and weren’t allowed to go in and see the home of the 1932 Olympics. We did, however, buy Brezeln and call it even. All’s well that ends well.

Kurfürstendamm

Kaiser-Wilhelm Gedächtniskirche, built originally in 1895, and then destroyed in November of 1943, with the exception of the Westturm, or West Tower. In 1957 there was a huge debate about whether or not to destroy what was left standing of the Gedächtniskirche. A compromise was made to add on to what was left standing--hence the more modern looking Gotteshaus in the foreground.

Europa Center

Inside the new Gotteshaus of the Gedächtniskirche

Posh. 100%. Or, as the Germans would say, "schicky mickey."

Potsdamer Platz

Sony Center at Potsdamer Platz

There was clearly some sort of StarTrek premier of some sort going on at the Sony Center when we stopped by--this lady in the neckbrace won tickets and immediately ran all around the courtyard screaming.

A giraffe made out of legos...crazy, right??

A part of the Berlin Wall showing the "first hole."

Sam and his immense plate of sushi at DuDu...Lecker! :)

One could get his or her passport stamped with the former seal of East Germany either here or at Checkpoint Charlie if he or she so desired--but I'm letting Morocco be my coolest stamp yet.

East side, West Side--the bricks mark the border of the former wall.

Das Denkmal für die Ermordeten Juden Europas

Very disorienting--interestingly enough, the number of blocks is in no way representative of the number of Jews killed in the Holocaust. There was a huge debate on whether this memorial should be dedicated to all victims of the Holocaust or just to the Jews. In the end, it was dedicated solely to the Jewish victims of the Holocaust.

Sam and I jumping in front of the Brandenburger Tor. Quiz: is Amanda an innie or an outtie?

Our itinerary summed up nicely on touristy signs!

Reichstag

The aftermath of a picnic.

Brandenburger Tor

Berliner Dom, finished originally in 1905 and then restored between 1973 and 1993 due to its destruction in World War II.

Sam, Rachel and I

Fernsehturm!

View from the Kuppel of the Berliner Dom

ConVal meets Berlin!

...Middlebury meets Berlin!

The Ampelmann. :)

The Ampelmann Store!

Hackescher Markt, where we found a bunch of cafés and restaurants

I will admit, Sam did a very good job at deciphering menus when they weren't available in English. Note the concentration.

New Synagogue, burned in 1938 by the Nazis on Kristallnacht and then destroyed further during the war. Renovations were finally finished in 1993.

Stop!

Green means go!

A funky café we passed through, with lots of "junkyard" art and murals

And, naturally, ice cream. Mine is the one with all of the fruit, of course :)

The fastest car on the market...I hear it puts the Batmobile to shame.

Rock on.

Checkpoint Charlie

Rut roh.

East Side Gallery

Sam and I found this quite hysterical--and we wonder why people ask us Americans if we carry guns around with us on the street back home. Quite curious.

"This flag is based on the fundamental humanistic ideals of freedom and unity of all people. It is a examination of the heritage of all German generations after the second World War."

Sam I am.

Wasn't that hard for me to imitate. Let's be honest here.

Rachel, celebrating the precision of German recycling. Don't these bins look like Pac-man ghosts?

A memorial at the Jewish Museum to the Jews killed in the Holocaust--the artist calls it Schalechet--gefallenes Laub (fallen leaves). the room devoted to this is called Leerstelle des Gedenkens, or Memory Void. Below the actual museum there is an Axis of the Holocaust and an Axis of Continuity that devotes itself entirely to Jews that have emigrated and made lives for themselves in places like the US or South America, or were persecuted during the Holocaust.

A Jewish satirist commenting on the common practice of Jews to celebrate both Hannukah and Christmas during the holiday season.

Flags outside of a movie theatre advertising the premiere of The Producers. Open to interpretation.

Rachel getting ready to Prost before Sam even got to order--delicious hot chocolate! Can you blame her? :)

Bear-lin Hug

Spaziergang im Tiergarten :)

This rock reads Hoffnung, or Hope. There were rocks from each continent in this one part of the Tiergarten to symbolize unity throughout the world--the Hope rock is from Africa.

Take five...

A five-person cycle. We deemed it the star-fish-'ycle.

Red light!

Gendarmenmarkt

Französicher Dom

Konzerthaus Berlin

Troublemakers

Too bad Europe doesn't have root beer...

Reichstag at night

Walking to the Olympic Stadium...

...to find out it was closed.

On the way home Rachel and I shared a ride four other people, not including our driver, Javier. We all piled into a van that moved at about an average of 180 kilometers per hour down the Autobahn to Frankfurt. One could call Javier an expert at traffic weaving. He's also very, very talented at beeping his horn and making rude gestures to people out the window. Oftentimes, these gestures were reciprocated. I guess the ideal of a typical Sunday drive doesn't exist on the Autobahn.

Peace, love, and a 70 cent fee to use the restroom,

Amanda