A Dream Come True

I finally met her!

Since writing about my neighbor on June 14, I've been working too late to see her on her porch when I go for walks. I gave up on the idea of actually chatting with her instead of just smiling and saying hello.

But yesterday, I came home early and saw her coming outside. As soon as we exchanged complete sentences, she noticed my accent and asked where I was from. Before I knew it, I was going in through the gate and she was asking if I wouldn't be bored talking to someone her age. Bored? Are you kidding? I've been dying to meet people in Neufahrn and I had a feeling somehow that she'd be a good one to talk to. Was I ever right.

Frau Martini grew up a farmer's daughter several hours away. She and her two older sisters spent their whole adult lives in Munich; her brother was killed in World War II, fighting for the Nazis. (Hearing that reminded me of a memorial in Neufahrn to fallen WWII soldiers. I've learned about the enormous burden of guilt that Germany has carried the past several decades. But I'd never thought about how they'd remember fallen soldiers. What a bitter sorrow, knowing your loved one's life was lost in the name of Adolf Hitler!) She described shopping at the butcher's and baker's years ago in her job as a school cook in downtown Munich. Only in recent years has she moved here to Neufahrn, next door to her only child and three grandchildren.

We made a good pair. Neither of us had anywhere to be, so an hour and a half went by before I left to make dinner. And we both appreciate a slower-paced conversation - I due to my lacking German skills, and she because breathing is somewhat laborious. Frau Martini has had several surgeries to combat her cancer, but at this point, she's nearly done fighting. I was amazed by her sense of peace - she says she has no fear of death - and thankfulness for the full life she's led in her eighty-odd years. We talked a lot about our mutual faith and the assurance that God's plan is a good one.

I'm leaving Neufahrn on Monday to spend most of July downtown for my German course. (I'm excited to meet my new hostess, Frau Dorothea Rogall.) Hopefully Frau Martini and I can chat more when I return to Neufahrn for my last few weeks. In the meantime, I'm hoping to bring her some cookies this afternoon. Our conversation inspired me, and I'd love a repeat or two in my limited time here.

How I Know I’m American #1: The Dress Code

While in Austria and Germany, I’m really enjoying the chance to blend in with the crowd. In France, I always felt a little too tall, too blonde, and too not French. And I expect to stick out even more in future travels abroad, since I’m hoping to be around non-Caucasians. Here, not only are my hair color and height somewhat typical, but I even have multiple outfits that look similar to what I’ve seen other people wear. Amazing!

On the other hand, I’ve noticed a difference in the social norms surrounding clothing. One minor difference is the tendency to take off shoes indoors. On my first day at the Montessori school, they asked if I’d brought Hausschuhe (literally “house shoes”) with me to school. (It’s not a house, I wanted to retort. And no, my slippers are in the US.) I ended up going around in my socks, like most of the kids. This is apparently common at public schools too.

I noticed when the kids were about to play sports, they would change into shorts right in the hallway, in front of everyone. This is normal in German-speaking culture: the theory is that your underwear is no more revealing than a swimsuit, so it’s not a big deal. People also change into their swimsuits outdoors sometimes. It doesn’t really bother me, though I wouldn’t do so unless I really had to. But what does get to me, reminding me I’m not from here, is the nudity on the beaches.

It was pretty hard to avoid during the boat trip on Sunday. The German students even commented on it: “That’s so German! Why is it always the older and heavier people who feel the need to strip?” It was true: among those over 40 on the riverbanks, about half were nude, versus maybe 10% of younger beachgoers. Apparently you don’t have to pretend not to see them – my friends still waved and called hello to them. At first I just tried to avert my eyes, not really wanting the view. But later, it began to irritate me, because they were in the way of the photos I wanted to take. I’m glad you feel comfortable in your birthday suit, but I don’t think it improves the scenery... At one point, 2 people from my group (out of 17) briefly ditched their clothes, and I was glad that I hadn’t ever talked to them, because I felt pretty awkward about it.

Every culture defines modesty a little bit differently. Despite Germans’ laid-back attitudes toward covering up at the beach, nobody here wears the short shorts that are typical among young American girls. On my way home, I passed a Muslim woman wearing long sleeves and a flowing skirt despite the 80+ temperature. For an instant, I was indignant. It seemed unfair that such extreme modesty was required of her. Then I realized…maybe she can’t imagine wearing my T-shirt and capris any more than I can imagine joining the skinny dippers. I resolved to let her make her own decision about the clothing that’s comfortable for her. And to be thankful that she’s wearing clothes at all!

Adventures on the High Seas

On Sunday, my band of comrades and I were attacked by pirates.

They were rather jovial, though. In fact, I had chatted with a few of them earlier that day. I was with student members of the CVJM (Germany's YMCA), which is explicitly Christian, unlike the Y in the US. (Lisi, my friend in Innsbruck, connected me with her friend Claudi, who attends the group.) They had invited me to join them on the Isar River in several inflatable boats.

A few people took a smaller boat, while the two big boats had 7 people each. It's a pretty tame river and the boats are nearly impossible to tip. The scenery was really cool - in only 20 km, it seemed reminiscent of Canada's pines and Spain's Mediterranean scrub brush before switching back to typical German forests. Coupled with the gorgeous weather, it could have been a very mellow day.

But the Pirate Boat wouldn't have it. They started off the day by sneaking up behind us and drenching us by flinging water with their paddles. After a few successes and our best attempts at retaliation, they upped the ante. We were ready for more splashing, but instead they cruised by us and stole paddles out of two of my comrades' hands, leaving us defenseless and slow. A while after regaining our paddles, we managed to grab a few of theirs. They sent over Wolfi (short for Wolfgang) on a Search and Rescue mission. That's when things got interesting.

Wolfi jumped into our boat and played tug-of-war with a few of us for his boat's missing paddles, but we held on tightly. In the process, two of my loyal comrades fell out. "My sunglasses!" yelped Nina. Sure enough, while we recovered a hat, her Armani shades were nowhere in sight. Friedemann, the other victim, began searching in the swirling waste-deep waters of the Isar. Wolfi (filled with remorse?) got out and tried to anchor our boat, but the current was pulling hard. He decided to stay and keep an eye on Friedemann while we floated down a bit and found a spot to pull over on the opposite bank, which had a shore instead of a steep forested hill.

A minute later, Friedemann emerged empty-handed and swam over to us. Where was Wolfi? "I thought he was back in the boat already..." We yelled his name, peered in the shadows of the far bank, and asked everyone on the little boat when they passed by. No sign of him. We grimly recalled the warnings of our faithful leader about hitting one's head and falling unconscious. After a few minutes, we were really concerned.

Finally five minutes later, Wolfi emerged from the forest. Unable to make it back to Friedemann, he had climbed out and walked along the trail along the river. But the thick trees had drowned out our voices.

The next time the Pirate Boat approached us, we braced ourselves. But nothing happened. No jumping, no stealing, no splashing. We tied the boats' ropes together and lazily floated down toward the bridge that marked our final destination. Even pirates like to be mellow every now and then.

Exploring the World...through Microsoft Excel

A couple of you (namely, my parents) have requested an update on my job. It’s continued to involve lots of “translation tables” (Excel spreadsheets) between the old program, ABAS, and the new program, SAP. It also continues to involve down time – I rely on my co-workers, primarily a girl named Ebru who’s super-outgoing, to give me assignments. These typically last between 5 minutes and a couple of hours. Then I have to wait while she thinks of something else for me to do and finds time to explain it. During this time, I do things like...well, writing this post, for example.

I understand what’s being accomplished in a very broad sense, but I usually have only a faint idea of how my specific tasks fit into the plan. For example, I spent hours on Monday reformatting spreadsheets so that all the columns became rows. On Tuesday, it made more sense: I spent 8 straight hours (a record-long assignment!) printing out the hundreds of spreadsheets and putting them into binders. Since then, the temporary workers here this week have been poring over them and typing them into the new system. (Some are from other departments; others are from another German branch; others are college-age children of employees.) Ebru’s in charge of all of them, so I’m currently one of about 20 people competing to ask her questions. The system has to be in place by Monday, so it’s really crunch time.

I’ve learned some nifty tricks in Excel, like how to use formulas to fill in entire columns or how to search spreadsheets. (I hadn’t used Excel since 10th grade computer class, so it’s all new for me.) Another cool thing about all these spreadsheets is that I get a good sense of the company. I’ve seen lists of Suss' employees, their customers worldwide, the machines being sold, etc. This is more fun than you might think, because there’s a lot of “scope for the imagination.” A few of the gems I’ve found:

Vocabulary I’d like to start using:
Materialbelegnummerermittlung. Like all long German words, it’s made up of a bunch of smaller ones: Material is obvious, Beleg means “record,” Nummer means number, and Ermittlung is the noun form of “to determine.” All together, I’m not sure what it means. But I probably wouldn’t quite understand it in English, either. And it's a proven fact that using big words makes you sound smart.

Where I’d like to work:
Cheerful Technologies, Hong Kong. If I ever settle for an ordinary white-collar career, I’d like to know that I’m spreading joy in the world by selling happy machines.

Where I’d like to move:
Avenue des Anenomes, France. It sounds like an address out of “Finding Nemo.”
Snezhinsk, Russia. Gesundheit!

Where I’m getting my Master’s Degree:
Uppsala University, Sweden. This sounds a lot like what I’ve heard people say for “Oops” – a blend of the German word Hoppla and the newer word Ups borrowed from our word. I would love to have a diploma from here.
Institut sverhvysokochastotnoi, Russia. No explanation needed.

Mahlzeit!

There’s really only one German word you need to learn in order to work in a German company. Though I never speak English at work, everyone knows how to, and most have dealt with visiting co-workers and customers whose only common language is English. English also turns up in some random places at work: "Junk E-Mail" apparently has no translation, and titles of projects are often in English. (For example, I'm working on "Move Ahead," for SAP implementation.)

But regardless of your German skills, the word Mahlzeit (literally: “meal time”) is very important. At first I thought it was just a synonym for “bon appétit” (they also say Guten Appetit) – used when someone is beginning to eat. But it’s much more than that. Imagine it’s 11:30 and Georg is the first in line for lunch. He’ll exchange a “Mahlzeit” with the cook and the co-workers who first sit down with him, as well as those who come later on. They’ll all say it again when Georg leaves the Kantine, and he’ll continue to exchange it with people who see him coming back from lunch or with people on their way to lunch. In fact, he’ll say it to anyone he sees in the hallway for the next 2 hours, just in case they’re coming to or from lunch.

I've had to work on remembering to say "Mahlzeit" since noticing how frequently it's used. I see it as a challenge to try and tell someone "Mahlzeit" before they can say it to me. I want to expand it even more and say it to people who look hungry or as a subtle suggestion that someone should give me a snack. Any suggestions as to other relevant contexts would be much appreciated.

P.S. Another word I've heard a lot just made sense to me today: Feierabend (literally "celebration evening"). Feiertag means holiday, so I thought Feierabend meant taking the evening off, or leaving work early. This was confusing because co-workers would take about "doing a Feierabend" when someone left, even if it was already 7:30 or 8 PM. Wow, that's quite the evening off! How will you manage to fill up your remaining hour of daylight? But apparently it's more like "to be done for the day" or "to call it quits."

Germany vs. Turkey: Utter Madness

I wish I were a soccer fan.

I've never been good at watching or playing sports. In four seasons of PSU football, I made it to four games. I've been known to crochet, write letters, and play cards while I was supposed to be watching various games on TV. It's too much effort for me to simultaneously...
- find the ball,
- keep track of which direction everyone's traveling, and
- recall the few rules I've learned.
I rely on instant replay to show me when important things happen, because I never seem to catch them the first time. I have gained a lot of respect for people who can make intelligent comments about a game they've just seen.

At the same time, I've loved the non-technical aspects of being here for the EM, whose English name (as a helpful reader pointed out) is the Europe Cup. From the Montessori kids trading collectible stickers during recess...to the co-workers that come in wearing jerseys...to the kids on the street shouting "Tur-ki-ye"...to the instant conversation starters...it's a fun time. I may not know anything about the teams' strengths and weaknesses, but I know enough about their national identities to make me interested in the outcomes. And in this year's EM, the outcomes have been pretty interesting. Apparently, there's a good deal of variety in which teams do well each year. Italy, the 2006 World Cup champion, lost 3-0 to the Netherlands in a major upset. France, the 2nd place World Cup team and 2004 EM winner, didn't even make it to the quarter-finals.

Germany on the whole is strongly anti-patriotic. Given their history, they are wary of anyone who says they're proud of Germany or glad to be German. Schools don't have German flags or anything like the Pledge of Allegiance. The only context where Germans root for their country is in sporting events. 2006, when Germany hosted the World Cup, was a turning point: the first time in decades that people displayed little German flags. In the last few weeks, those flags have again been all over the place, namely on cars and hanging from balconies. My housemate Philipp warned me that the morning after Germany loses, all the flags will disappear. But Germany just played in the quarter-finals, and the ubiquitous flags show that it managed to advance.

Here's where things get extra interesting. The semi-finals have Germany playing against Turkey. Nobody expected Turkey to do well. My Turkish-German co-worker said she didn't care if they lost the quarter-finals; she was just delighted they'd made it this far. So it was a shock when they beat Croatia last night. (An amazing game, I'm told: Both teams scored their first point in the final seconds of double overtime.) The thing is, there are a lot of Turkish-origin people in Germany, including near me in Neufahrn. Many of them have been rooting for both teams (see above photo). Most have a conflicted relationship with their host country, complicated on both sides by dozens of factors. I am curious to observe how this tension plays out on the field. (In France, it would undoubtedly involve hundreds of cars on fire. Lacking citizenship, Germany's internationals avoid riots for fear of deportation, and Germans seem to prefer order more than the French do.) I'm not sure what to expect on June 25. But I'll do my best in watching it.

I'd love to learn why this is for sale...