Kulturschock

Being back in America is fantastic. I stood in the middle of the escalator, had 4 glasses of free water in a restaurant, and smiled at whoever I wanted. I've had so many conversations with people where neither party had to struggle to communicate. I even took pride in the fact that one of the roped off lines at immigration had a giant, 10-foot wide pillar right in the middle of it. A German would have planned around that before getting out the rope, but in America, that pillar can suck it. While that's all good and dandy, it turns out that Germany has poisoned my mind a little bit. It took me approximately 5 minutes to count out $8 of this "monopoly" money these crazy people use. I've mixed up "much" and "many" consistently over the past two days, and most embarrassingly, this happened:

Location: New South Building. Situation: kweeks is locked out and ID-less. Some disgruntled employee is trying to confirm my identity.
employee: where do you live?
kweeks: 1234 Candyland Road
employee: thue sife jurde cor hale furt.
kweeks: Was? Was that even English...? What?
employee: LAS.T FO.UR DIG.ITS OF YOUR SO.CIAL SE.CUR.IT.Y NUM.BER.

the sad part is, I would have rocked that conversation in German.

people of germany

Cathy and I decided way too late (read: 2 weeks before our internships ended) that we should have made a blog about the people of germany. in a similar fashion to "people of wal-mart", we'd post pictures of people, well, in Germany. Doing German things. Being German. Despite the fact that we didn't have enough time to collect the necessary materials for said blog, we fleshed out what it would look like. Guess this will just have be a project for my dream life of moving to Munich and being a professional party-er/beer drinker.

1) Photos - if you've ever been to Europe, no explanation necessary. For everyone else, this would include, but is not limited to, photos of matching t-shirts from bachelor/bachelorette parties, 40 euro pit-bull sweatpants, fanny packs, man capris, uncategoriable outfits, haircuts, lederhosen, and people epitomizing what it means to be German:

this drunken mess is exactly what it means to be German

2) Do You Know What Your Hat Means? - interviews with people wearing anything American related (MLB hats, shirts with English writing, American-flag shorts, etc) and inquiring about their level of knowledge on that little piece of America their toting around.

3) The F-bomb and Why You're Using it Incorrectly - an explanation of when to use the f-bomb, including the fact that it's a really offensive word.

4) Mistranslations - signs, tourist information, menus, a recording of any Deutsche Bahn train driver trying to speak English by skipping one out of every third syllable, the Deutsche Bank "GIZ" division (sound it out...), etc

5) Ask Robert - (he's not man Robert, but he is man German). a Q&A where we ask intern man to explain things that Germans do.

What's in a Name?

I just need to get this off my chest: German names are weird. Usually I can't tell because when I meet someone, chances are real good (~110%) that I don't understand what their name is. The reason for this is two-fold: 1) it's something I've never heard before and 2) (if you're an active kweeks train follower I'm sure you've guessed it by now) I don't speak German. The name part of the conversation sort of just runs together with every other incomprehensible word that's being said.

I didn't blog about this when it happened, mostly because I didn't want to talk about work on the public domain...Deutsche Bank has a serious Big Brother complex going on. But, it's my last day and I'm running back to the land of the free tomorrow so Big Brother can suck it. When I met one of my coworkers on my first day, I couldn't really understand what he said when he introduced himself, so I had to listen to what everyone else called him to find out. I managed to ascertain that his name was Hamlet. Awkward. Maybe his parents liked Shakespeare. Or wanted him to suffer (whether at the hands of Laertes or of other children is unclear). But the next day, the Prince of the Danes answered the phone and he definitely didn't say Hamlet. Back to square one. Creepily listening to his phone conversations, my next guess was "Helmet." More awkward than Hamlet? Hard to say. Eventually I manned up and asked someone. Proving that the truth is stranger than fiction, I was told that his name was actually "Hartmut." Just to give this some cultural perspective, this is the country that used to have a list of names that you were allowed to name your child. This isn't the work of rogue parenting. This is a legitimate German name. Hartmut. Say that to yourself. Heart. Moot.

Judgement Day

really the only thing I've learned since coming to Germany is that stereotypes are the most truest things that have ever been invented (and not in the true dogg kind of way, but in the certain, undeniable, handed-down-from-God kind of way). As my internship winds to a close, the Deutsche Bank requires my boss to fill out a "Beurteilung" on how well he thinks I did. In case your German isn't as wunderbar as mine, Beurteilung is literally the word for judgement. It's a four-page long document consisting of various aspects of intern performance (knowledge, social skills, quality of work, etc) and a grade is given for each aspect. Basically the German Gods have come forth to evaluate my self-worth. And in case you think that's a bit extreme, I go to Princeton, grades are everything.

For those of you who've forgotten, these are Germans we're talking about. They don't pussy around with their opinions: If you suck, they're gonna tell, and they're not going to be concerned about your self-esteem when they do. Needless to say, I was a little nervous about my value as a German worker. Thankfully, they don't get bogged down by the details like, "you showed up 30 minutes late every day," "you were severely displeased when you had to stay past 8," or, "you took your aggression towards our entire country out on the other intern." Unfortunately this left time for more glaring flaws in my interning: "you know nothing about finance. or math.", "you can't speak German", and "I have the feeling that you're smart, but I have no proof."

Geography

kweeks: wo studierst du? (where do you go to school?)
German: Niederlande
kweeks: wo ist das? (where's that?)
German: pause. northwest of here.
5 minutes later
kweeks: oh wait, do you mean, the Netherlands?

Geburtstag

the memories of my homeland are starting fade, so I can't exactly remember what a birthday is like in America, but for Germans, it's a big deal. No other event makes so many people so excited about something completely unrelated to them.

Learning that it's someone's birthday must be one of the very few occasions where Germans are allowed to smile unsolicited. When one of these blonds learns it's your birthday (regardless of how well they know you, or whether they know you at all), their whole face lights up, they wish you a happy birthday, and then counter-intuitively go in for the formal handshake. Even with the buzz kill ending, it's really exciting to have people so happy that you were born on this specific day.

And the fun just keeps on rolling on your Geburtstag: at the end of the day, my coworkers brought me a huge bouquet of flowers and a cookbook - so that I wouldn't go hungry in Germany (I've clearly fooled them into thinking that I can actually understand German...). German Verständnis aside, it was a sweet gift. Made even sweeter by the jealous looks stare down everyone gave me on the subway as I struted around with my giant bouquet of flowers. "Why does she get flowers?" Because I'm an awesome Amerikaner. Eat it Deutschland (slash thank you).

social day

in an attempt to combat global warming (a.k.a. build good PR) Deutsche Bank organizes a "social day" for its interns every summer where everyone goes and plants trees and then drinks beer afterwards. basically a really stereotypically German day. it started out fairly normal - kweeks speaking awkward German, free t-shirt, and a bus ride to approximately ten minutes out of the city, prompting the girl behind me to say, "wow, we're really in the country now." clearly someone who's never left Frankfurt or encountered the phenomenon known as the internet.

we had to divide up into groups to go plant trees and it quickly became abundantly clear to everyone in my group that i was really foreign. mostly because at one point pretty early in the day, i had to read out loud in German. Not only did I have to slowly sound out a word that I didn't know, but I over-anticipated where the end of the sentence was and ended my intonation one awkward word too early. it was great. just great.

the weirdest thing about the social day, however, was not me (at least from my perspective...). only in Europe would you have to have a designated smoking area for a group of interns on an outdoor tree hugging adventure. anyways, we managed to plant 1,000 trees while simultaneous undoing all our good efforts by drinking 1,000 bottles of water.

I'm German and I know everything

I don't know what fantasy these people are living in, but there's needs to be a public service announcement to the German populace informing them of their level of English speaking ability. I imagine it would go something like this:

Attention beer guzzlers, 

Take note that despite the fact that you studied English in high school, when you engage with a native English speaker chances are real good (read: certain) that you'll be the one with the worse English. How much worse is a direct function of how long ago high school was, but, to help you out, here's a list of indicators that your fluency in English leaves something to be desired:
1) I die before you can string a sentence together
2) You know none of the nouns that you want to use
3) As long as I laugh while I'm speaking, you think I'm being nice because you can't understand anything I'm saying 

If you experience any of these symptoms you're not fluent. Ganz einfach! 

Much love,
every native speaker that you've ever talked to 

Even with this announcement, all my problems would not be solved. Actual conversations that officially put this country on my shit-list:

kweeks commenting code: % how much lambda has changed...
coworker: how much or how many?
kweeks: how much.
coworker: are you sure?
kweeks: awkward pause. yes.

Setting: kweeks was asked to read over a powerpoint presentation that was to be given to a fellow native speaker. My boss and another coworker asked me to fix any mistakes that sounded unnatural or that didn't make any sense. 


Error: buy-side economic model "in the real world measure"
Suggestion: "based on real world measures"
boss: it's a real thing, I read it in a paper once.
kweeks: we don't really say that and it doesn't make a lot of sense
boss: no this paper was written by a guy in London, it's a mathematical term.
kweeks: it's wrong.
boss: we're sticking with it

Error: presentation title: "A Unique Holistic Wealth Allocation Approach"
Suggestion: "A Unique and Comprehensive Approach to Wealth Allocation"
coworker: we mean "holistic" as in, we consider all aspects of the client's wealth. Not just stocks or just bonds, but all assets. Holistically.
kweeks: that's not really a word. and it's not even modifying "wealth" here
coworker: I saw it in another presentation. Pulls out another presentation from Deutsche Bank
kweeks: this was written by another German. Comprehensive makes more sense and it sounds better.
coworker: comprehensive means "understanding"
kweeks: no, actually it doesn't.
boss: We want it to be "holistically." comprehensive means everything in its entirety, leaving nothing out.
kweeks: also wrong.
boss: we're sticking with it.

it's rude to stare

but since Germans are the Lou Gehrigs of not giving a fuck, they do it anyways. it's apparently not an impolite thing to do, smiling seems to be the bigger offense:

it is a cultural taboo for Germans to smile too much in public, or others see them as mentally challenged.  Some cold and smile-less gazes are cultural norms.

1) way to enforce the stereotype and 2) great, another reason to have everyone think I'm dumb in the head.

Lights Camera Action!

Going to the movie theater is awkward and German in just so many ways:
1) mandatory seat reservations - these people love to plan
2) das Pause - the German word for let's awkwardly interrupt your viewing experience for a 15 minute break so that you can forget everything that's happened.
3) commercial breaks - the last preview (read: commercial) was for some type of ice cream bar. Right after it ended they stopped playing the previews and some randos came in to sell us the exact same brand of ice cream. I only consider this German because it was weird. just like them.

the German restaurant experience

one of the magical things about the German creature is that they're, by nature, very un-awkward. rules for every conceivable social situation have been fine-tuned throughout the ages and nowadays the only thing left to do is for people to follow them. that awkward ending to any phone conversation where both parties find themselves saying "ok...well...alright" on repeat for five minutes? non-existent in Germany. it's a quick, "ok, see you then. bye. [hang up]." emails to people you don't know that start out with something really unnatural sounding ("i'm writing to ask you....", "im [biography] and i was wondering...", "im an idiot and forgot to sign up for your class...can i be on the waitlist?", etc)? a foreign concept here. due to the awkwardness of an entire people, many industries in the US have taken it upon themselves to ease the awkwardness of social interaction so that absolutely zero interpersonal skills are required to do any sort of task. this is of great convenience to those of us living in the homeland, but useless for us unlucky bastards abroad in countries where no such institutions exist and people get by by being...normal.

this brings me to the German restaurant experience. on your first visit to a German restaurant, you walk in, look around, and wait by the door to be seated. and you wait. and wait. and wait. everyone in the restaurant starts to stare at you and you begin to feel slightly uneasy. then finally, some exasperated German behind you pushes through, gives you a dirty look, and sits down at whatever table tickles his fancy. confused and mildly self-conscious, you walk over to the nearest table and pop a squat. an easy mistake to make to be sure, and you make a mental note to never make it again (the German stare can be quite intimidating is scary as hell).

at subsequent visits to German restaurants, you're convinced you know the drill. you're just going to boldly walk in there and take whichever table you damn well please. unfortunately this seemingly simple plan just isn't that easy. apparently the real reason American restaurants don't let you seat yourself is because people are indecisive as fuck. you and whoever you're with spend approximately half a century deciding 1) if you really want to eat here and 2) which table is the best option. during this time, a waiter inevitably comes over to you and gives you a look like "are you stupid? do you seriously need help sitting down?" The answer to both of those questions is, of course, yes, but you dont want to say that, so you try to communicate that you can handle the situation solo. Unfortunately it's at this point when you realize that the vocabulary for what to do when the conversation isn't going according to plan was conveniently left out of 5 semesters of German and you're best option is to mumble/grunt incomprehensible English and accompany it with some nondescript hand gesture.

and make this face

somehow though, this doesn't quite indicate clearly enough that you're foreign, confused, and effectively mute. one of your friends decides to step up to the plate and try to unsubtley indicate your social handicap by turning to you and saying, "what?" in a really loud and American fashion. Germans must say "what" a lot since the waiter still hasn't caught on that socially you're the equivalent of a dead horse. Eventually you resolve the situation by, again, finding the nearest table, smiling awkward at the waiter, muttering in English, and slowly walking over and sitting down, burying your face in the menu and refusing to look at anyone in the vicinity. 

life's good

just compensated for the fact that today was the most boring day at work ever by discovering the hot chocolate machine. what have i been doing all summer?

pig banger

In an effort to fully understand the "you say German words funny comment," I asked my fellow intern about it at lunch today. He told me I probably just said some word wrong, and when I responded that I had been ordering "strudel," he started laughing pretty hard and said, "yeah, you do say it funny." apparently there's a gigantic difference between the way Americans say "strudel" and the way Germans say "strudel"...which is, predictably, pronounced just like the American "strudel," just more German sounding, and this difference is the FUNNIEST thing ever (please see previous post about how Germany was voted the least funny nation in the entire world). 

This led to a conversation about Germans names (and how they're, well, not the best....the beloved "Gertrude" comes to mind...as well as Holgar, Dirk, Felix, Helga, etc). Eventually famous soccer super star, Bastian Schweinsteiger, came up. As it was explained to me, "schwein" means "pig" and "steiger" comes from the verb "steigen" (to increase, rise), and to "besteigen" somebody means to "mount/climb" them (in the PG-13 kind of way). So, basically, the vice/co-captain of the German national soccer team is Bastian Pig Banger. Childhood must have been rough.

pictured: class B misdemeanor and a bottle of hair gel

so lustig!

being lustig is fun. i usually take pleasure in being lustig - despite the fact that most of the time it's not intentional....i take even more pleasure in other people being lustig, which is why many a German can see me laughing at work while reading cracked.com articles or why im friends with shelco (definitely a good example of unintentional lustig...). however lustig lost some major points today when the following conversation occurred:

me (trying to order studel, because studel is fucking good and it was that kind of week): kann ich ein studel....awkward trail off
waitress: what? laughter. you're so lustig when you try to pronounce german [words]. more laughter.


that's right. some bitch straight up laughed in my Gesicht about how i spoke german. these heartless blond fuckers will literally suck the soul out of you and not give a fuck. im never speaking this language again.

bonjour ami

this (x8) is the first thing I see when I got off the train in Paris, comforting.

racial profiling

Ticket collector comes in, about to ask a question. He looks at the Chinese people in front of me, opens his mouth, pauses. Turns to the Indian couple next to me, opens his mouth, pauses. Turns to me, "Ist meine Kollegin schon vorbei gekommt?"

what an idiot

the only thing dumber than me is another American:


bock: i told this german guy who plays that germany sucked at ultimate accrd to my friend and he didn't take it too well
me: hahaha
do you know where he played in germany?
bock: berlin?
maybe
we talked about how i only remember 3 places in germany
and it was one of those
me: hahaha. more than most americans
bock: well i thought i knew 4 including "deustland"
so negative points for me

updates

world cup: heartbroken. I needed a win in the Ausland, and I was banking on World Cup glory to give it to me.

fashion: the dyed and spiked hair look is for all ages. Even if that age is 40.

language: is my German improving? you be the judge.
     German at adjacent table: Can I have your ashtray?
     kweeks: hands over silverware

elevators

My morning routine consists of a quick self check out in the mirror...sometimes you need a boast if you're gonna start the day before noon and the undeniable confirmation of seeing just how hot my bod is, usually does the trick (don't act like you've never done it). Knowing full well that people do this, Deutsche Bank cleverly installed mirrors in every elevator at my building. You smile at the security guard, flash your ID card, walk into the elevator, and BAM there you are, in all your glory and your first reaction is uhgg...im ugly. I've yet to encounter a light that's made me look dark, but I've never before encountered one that makes me look dead. Even my freckles look pale and to make matters worse, my hair has zero shine. Like none. I've never been bothered by the level of lusciousness of my locks (mostly because they are quite luscious), but I look like a flat, dead animal was plastered to my scalp. It's not flattering. Moreover, you would think that Germans all of people would be sympathetic to the struggles of the pale man. Or, maybe the reason for such unattractive lighting is to make people realize that no, they can't be a trophy wife, better work hard today.

comback city

successfully had a full-out conversation in which i gave proper and accurate directions as well as time table information regarding train departures and arrivals. i neither had to ask the lady to repeat anything she said nor did that awkward thing where i stutter and drop entire syllables as i try to slur words together in a fashion that should only be appropriate for native speakers. i also used an incorrect preposition, and, because the lady was also foreign and must have deemed me "more german" because i'm blonder and whiter, she began to use it too.

deutschland 3, kweeks 2.

why so serious?

it explains so much...

who's your daddy now?

world cup updates:
1. People stare at you when you speak English, regardless of the type. When you yell "suck it" in a restaurant when Hope Solo makes an awesome save on a BS pk, entire families of Germans will turn and stare. When you're leaving a soccer stadium and discussing the best strategy to weave around the Germans in the mad dash to the trains, every.single.one. of them will stop and stare.

2. Germany lost in the quarterfinals. unexpectedly. I blame 20% of it on my boss, who boldly declared the day before that the Germans' secret to winning soccer games was the fact that they - both men and women - believe they will win every game. Clearly a strategy that works wonders against Spain and Japan. Walking away from watching that game was mildly uncomfortable. The Germans don't handle losses or the unexpected well. Posters assuring the men that they'd be avenged for last year's apparent failure have been taken down. awk.WARD

3. The US is mad boss.

Alles Gute Amurika

July 4, 2011 will henceforth be known as the greatest birthday America's ever had. Why? Because me and my friends (so proud I can put an "s" at the end of that) celebrated it by being everything Europe considers American: classless, last-minute, and an embarrassment. Not only did we try to "plan" a "party" the day before we wanted to throw it, but we did it in a country that doesn't understand the need to have stores, of any kind, open 24/7. Or really, open on Sundays (presumably, Germans have enough sense/aren't spontaneous enough to not be able to make it through a Sunday without needing to go buy something). The following is a list of our top ten failures (or just a list of what happened, depending on how you look at it):

1. Trying to find where we were going - this included a lot of gesturing and map looking
2. Trying to find a grill at the "grill park"
3. Deciding whether to approach the people using the only public grill to see if we could join
4. Deciding we weren't bold enough
5. Trying to light a lighter
6. Trying to cook a hot dog on a fork with a lighter
7. Trying to break half of a watermelon in half…because we didn't bring a knife
8. Trying to open a beer bottle with a lighter, another bottle, and finally, a set of keys
9. Trying to light our s'mores' marshmallows on fire, they wouldn't catch…probably because they were made out of plastic
10. Using glows sticks as a substitute for sparklers

Notice the most often used word in this list is "try." You could have easily replaced it with "fail."

Progress

In pure desire of wanting to actually get paid for my internship, I was forced to go to the Deutsche Post today to send the last of my paperwork to Deutsche Bank. Having neither letters nor stamps, I awkwardly walked up to the counter and did what I always do at the post office, hold out my letter and declare "I need to send this." Usually postal workers react to this approach in a similar fashion: smile, nod, take my letter, and pretty much do everything for me. Unlike the people at USPS however, this Deutsche Post Arbeiter was not sympathetic to my ignorance of letter sending (also unlike the people at USPS, he was not old and nice). The situation was not helped by the fact that I had looked up absolutely zero vocabulary for this adventure before leaving and could only muster a "ich [incomprehensible deutsch] [trail off]". Feeling uncomfortable about a 30 year old German glaring and judging at me as I blubbered through his language and by the fact that there was a very long line behind me (for those of you unaware, hatred of that one douche bag taking forever at the counter in the post office is pretty much universal), I stuck out the letter again and just said "send." The conversation and my German only deteriorated from there.

German Engineering

I washed my clothes today. When I took them out, they weren't even wet.

just smile and nod

One of the worst things about being foreign is those awkward conversations with people who haven't quite caught on yet that, no, you are not from these parts. These often led to moments where you feel like a huge winner. The worst part of it is, you actually think in the beginning that this could actually end well for you. The German in question says something general, that, surprise! you understand, such as, "the weather is nice today" or "this elevator is moving really fast." WIN. You pull out your mental sharpie to put another tally in life's victory column, but then you realize, you have to say something back to that...and unfortunately all you got is "kweeks train [hand to forehead, fingers extend]" and "ja..." Usually the latter makes more sense. Replying, however, is a fatal mistake: you've engaged the German and now they recognize you as one of their own. The next line isn't so easy to tackle and all you can make out is "esch haaet aeier erschleimen lutigung agetet." Unable to ascertain whether this is a positive, negative, something you have to use actual words to respond to, or another language, you stare, put on your most awkward smile/half grimace, and slowly start nodding your head. Eventually the elevator doors open, the German exits, thinking, "is that kid dumb in the head?"

just let it go to voicemail

Germans have an unusual relationship with their telephones. whenever a phone rings in the vicinity of a German, they are required, by federal law, to answer it (not a joke, check out a description of said law here: http://www.textlog.de/35444.html ...might need a chrome auto translate to read it). Regardless of how much sense it does not make to just let the phone go to voicemail, if you call a German they will respond. At work, this results in conversations such as:

Coworkers is talking on his landline when his cell phone starts to ring:
Coworker (to landline): hold on, my phone's ringing. Picks up cell phone. Hallo. I'll call you back. Bis gleich. Returns to landline. blah blah blah, ok good talking to you. Bye. Hangs up. Calls cell phone caller back. Hey, what's up? I was on my other line...rest of conversation.


or:

Multiple coworkers are talking to each other. One of their cell phones rings.
Coworker: Hallo. I'll call you back. Bis gleich. Hangs up.
Resume rest of conversation.


or:

German being mauled by a bear. His phone rings.
German: Hallo. I'll call you back. Bis gleich. German dies from spending too much time talking on phone and not enough time being worried about imminent bear threat.


This all just feeds my theory that Germans either do not understand or do not appreciate nonverbal communication.

super size me

When you are the sole consumer of the food you eat, you begin to realize what a fat american you are. All pretense is gone. You can no longer pretend that you and snow "shared" that bag of Doritos. There's no one there to tell you that putting two packets of cream cheese on your bagel is perfectly legitimate. Gluttony is the only explanation for anything you do.

In awe of the fact that I have not gained weight from a combination of sitting at a desk for 10 hours a day and eating like a man, i have compiled the following list of my more gruesome caloric-intakes over the past 3 weeks (keep in mind that this does not include lunch, and i didnt eat dinner for the first week that i was here...). So basically in 3 weeks of breakfast and in 2 weeks of dinner, i consumed the following (and more):

All-Time
5500 calories of bread
4500 calories of frozen pizza

3300 calories of peanut butter

2550 calories of strawberry jam
20 egg rolls (ASIAN)
20-25 apples

Things consumed in a period of time less than or equal to 24-hours
500 calories of chocolate (this was maybe a 2-hour period and this bar was supposed to be "for later")
1 entire bag of Riffles (these chips tasted like cardboard and i still ate them...)
8 apples
1 bag of cookies (~2 hours)

this might not sound like a lot of food, and it probably isnt, but the numbers game you play when you realized how much youve eat is just brutal. and it's kinda disturbing. i mean, really? ive eaten 3 jars of jam in 3 weeks? that's disgusting.

Fashion Statement

Rules for being fierce in Germany:

1. Shorts - not allowed
2. Jeans - must be mutilated in some way, either with numerous square patches sewn on or with tacky fake rip marks. Tight fit for women, tight fit OR bell-bottom style for men.
3. Man Capris - in what I can only assume to be an attempt to bring down the average attractiveness of an entire continent, these gems came into existence. Generally made from left-over parachute material from the second world war, man capris extend to that awkward length between shorts and pants, and, usually, make you look like half of a man.
4. Shirts - anything without writing on it and/or any shirt with English that makes no sense
5. Scarves - not just for women
6. Shoes - must be awkwardly small  and meet at least one of the following criteria: 1) ugly pattern/color 2) sequenced 3) adidas. Rainbows are a definitive no.
7. Fanny pack - convenient for storing your wallet/phone/dignity and labels you as one of the cool kids

i have the best mom

she is bringing me tortillas. crises averted.

get on the mexican train germany

i want a fucking tortilla

hi im foreign

I feel like my ability to understand German spoken by real life Germans has improved significantly since I've arrived here in Deutschland just 2 weeks ago...now, instead of having a completely blank look on my face anytime anyone talks to me as i try to distinguish words from one another, i have a look of intense concentration as i try to guess either 1) what all those words could possible mean when used in such a construction or 2) how to form sentences to respond to what has just been said (or what i hope has just been said). Germans react to this look in many different way. There's of course the classic lemme-switch-to-English technique...used by most Germans who can speak English, and, unfortunately, used by most Germans who can't. For the less perceptive natives, there's the option of rambling in German for five minutes while I stand there smiling and nodding and trying to walk away. The third and final option is what one guy did to me in the t-mobil store last Saturday: literally look you up and down and say "oh you're not from here," and walk away.

jeepers creepers

during an evening that most notable for 1) beer 2) strange albanians and 3) metrosexual men...me and a one james fratwick ran into this gem:

yes, this is a clown, playing a guitar, on an empty street. not the best picture, but, in the words of mr. fratwick, we didn't have much to work with...

Attention New Jersey Transit Passengers, the 1:45 local to Trenton is now forty-five minutes late...

Like most Americans used to airplanes, cars, or, God forbid, the New Jersey Transit, I find the German train system (the "Deutsche Bahn") to be one of the greatest things to ever exist. However, today at lunch I learned that most Germans are not big fans of the good ol' DB. When I asked my co-workers what was wrong with the Deutsche Bahn, the boss man said, "you know, it never comes when it says it will. In Switzerland, you can time your watch to it. The train's coming at 8:06? At 8:05:50, you can count down, 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1, and boom, the doors open. Here, the train's coming at 8:06, you just don't know. It might come at 8:07 or even 8:10." 

Children

I don't know why this subset of the population is so attracted to me, but I don't like it and I don't handle it well. Take for example, my experience at the Chicago airport (yes, it was apparently necessary to fly from NC to Chicago to Philadelphia to Frankfurt): I was seated by my gate, waiting for my plane to come, when a small 3-4 year-old boy sitting behind me, kept popping his head up over the seat and giggling at me. Every time I would turn around, he would duck behind the seat and giggle even more. When he sensed that I had turned back around, he would creepily pop his head up over the seat again. This was cute for about two minutes, before it got to the point where I didn't really know what to do other than to keep turning around (I mean, I couldn't ignore him, that would be mean…). Anyways, 20 minutes later I had a crick in my neck and feeling more than just a little bit awkward. Eventually the situation was resolved by his mother, who told him to cut it out.

Needless to say, the awkwardness of these kinds of situations is exponentially increased in a foreign land. Not only is the line between social appropriateness and creepiness a little blurred or shifted from the average American lifestyle, but the language barrier makes it hard to explain yourself when you cross said line.

In one of my more embarrassing moments (this is saying a lot…*cough* top five *cough*…), I was walking home from work last summer (this was in Germany too, so I figured I could reference here…) the better part of a Turkish family was walking in the opposite direction as me on the sidewalk. The mother was pushing a 1-2 year old in a stroller while her 7ish year-old daughter walked in front of her. As I approached the family, the daughter stuck out her hand, palm facing me…a 4+ year friendship with Lang has taught me that any such gesture should be instantly recognized as an invitation to high five. Excited about how a high five was about to bridge two cultures, I too extended my hand for a high five. However, this aspect of American culture has not quite made its rounds around the globe, and the girl instantly pulled her hand away. I will never forget the disapproving look that mother gave me.

Just in case you missed it: I got rejected for a high five. From a 7 year old.

Other instances of small foreign children judging me: I was in the elevator last week and said something in English to a co-worker. A 2 year old typically blond German boy giggled incessantly and said, "sie ist lustig" (she's funny). To which his mother replied, "ja, sie ist lustig." I feel so welcomed here.

Anyways, the whole point of this post was to talk about my experience on the train on the way home from work tonight. I was sitting across from yet another Turkish family; the parents had a girl 2-3, and another child, gender unclear, 6 - 12 months. Not only did both (read it: both) kids stare at me for about 80% of the 20-minute train ride, but so did the mother (and not in the "oh hey, you're sitting across from me kinda way", definitely more of the "why are you looking at me" kinda way…). The little girl would stare at me, push her half-dissolved food out of her mouth and let it dribble/fall down her shirt and on to the floor, and then scream. That's the reaction she had when she looked at me. 

Certificate of toolishness: signed, sealed, and delivered...

I had a sit-down with the boss man the other day where I learned three very important facts.:

1. I have absolutely no idea what I'm doing and what the economy/investment/money is 
2. there's a finite amount of time before everyone else that I work with also realizes this

              3.  I'm a tool

The main purpose of this sit-down was to explain what our small little group does in the fast empire that is apparently Deutsche Bank. So we started out with facts such as

1. Deutsche Bank is an empire.
2. An ORFE major would have been a better choice as an intern, whereas a COS major was probably just a mistake...
3. Germans are going to take over the world
4. [propaganda]

and, most importantly:

5. working at Deutsche Bank is not the equivalent as working at Bank of America. As in Deutsche Bank invests people's money and Bank of America is just a regular bank that you put your money in and get loans from. This was not explicitly stated, but it's what I gleaned from the conversation using my rudimentary knowledge of both the German language and Bank of America…which might explain why when I checked BoA's wikipedia article just now, I learned that BoA does, in fact, invest people's money. Fact 1 that I have no idea what I'm doing: proven.

I'm sure there were other points, I just couldn't understand them.

someone just asked if i was 30

fuck.

what we have here, is a failure to communicate

first conversation of the day:

me: hallo ich bin ein...ein...Prakti....Prakti.....[pause]

receptionist: Praktikantin?

translation:

me: hi, im an....id, idi....

receptionist: idiot?

germany 1. kweeks 0.

second conversation of the day...
let's just say i tried to introduce myself to a bunch of other interns, and instead just labeled myself as a tard face foreigner

2-0, deutschland

fourth conversation of the day (the third was in english...)

boss: do you know how to ___?

me: not really

repeat ten times.

3-0

lunch conversation:

successfully completed, in german. i only understood about half of what he was saying, but i dont think he knew. the urge to stand up on the table and yell HORNDOG KWEEKS TRAIN was overwhelming.

final score: germany 3. kweeks 1.

we shall meet again deutschland...

Traveling and Settling In

Highlights of the 20-hour long journey from Chapel Hill to Frankfurt:

• Being high fived by the TSA security guard for turning 21 this year
• After telling him that I was working at Deutsche Bank for the summer, the guy sitting next to me on the plane said "it's always good to stay near the money"
• Having the German customs guy take approximately 20 minutes to stamp my passport. He literally put my passport on the counter, put the stamp on top of it, and then stared at me. Stare. Stare. Stare. Stare. 5 minutes later he finally pushed down on the stamp and gave it back to me. 1. Creep.er. 2. I started thinking about how Sarah Plummer would be laughing in a similar situation, and had to make a huge effort not to start laughing myself.

The Wohnheim:

Just like the Germans need 7 denominations of coins, I apparently need 4 keys to get to my room. I have no idea what the fifth key I was given is for.

The roommates:

I am living with the only Chinese person in all of Germany. I plan on bonding with her over the fact that I too can use chopsticks. The other two roommates seem like averagely-weird Germans.