Dwiving in Gewmany

Saturday I had my first experience German driving. Sunday the training wheels were taken off. There are a few vital differences between American and German driving.
In general:
(1) There are about a zillion street signs to keep straight
(2) This includes signs that say that the previous max. speed limit has now become the min. Sometimes there is no sign for this. Or maybe I just don't see it...

I blame the number of signs for the fact that I may or may not have entered a one way street, passing the do not enter, and going left when I was definitely told to go right. This was still in the training wheels stage so it's ok.

On the freeways:
(1) People actually follow the pass on the left rule, making the far left actually the fastest lane and the far right actually the slowest.
(2) Semis actually go the speed limit and are some of the slowest drivers on the freeway.

It has not yet ceased to thrill me to look down at my speedometer and see that I am going 130. Then I remember it isn't actually that fast. The number still feels good, though.

In more residential areas:
(1) Roads are more narrow than in the US.
(2) Parking is almost anything goes.
(3) The combination of (1) and (2) is terrifying, causing driving on the left and sometimes pulling over so that cars coming the other way can proceed.

I personally had a bit of a face off with a large van. It was one of the most nerve wracking events of my life. And him rolling down the window and giving me directions in German was hardly comforting. Thank goodness my GPS had been speaking German to me so I could understand when he was saying "left" and "right". In the end, we both came out unscathed (discounting the emotional scars which I have sustained).

In the end "I feew happy of mysewf! Everybody! I know you can believe in yourself! If you believe in youwself you will know how to dwive in Gewmany! If you don't, you just keep pwacticing! You will get the hang of it I know it!"

I'm not sayin'; I'm just sayin'

Do as the Europeans

Today marks a week that I've been here. Weird. I have just one profound thing which I wish to share at this time. Schorle. What the heck? Ok, for those of you who were as ignorant as I was let me tell you. I just means juice that is half carbonation. Apfelsaftschorle (apple juice half carbonation) is something that I've grown familiar with. Let me just say: I stopped drinking soda years ago so I've been trying to ease back into this carbonation business with, you know, Ginger Ale (another big one here). So I decided today that since I've now been here a week, I would re-try Apfelschorle since my first attempt was early on. It was...an experience. Why would you do that to juice? I will probably continue to try it and perhaps eventually force my taste buds into submission. 

I also learned that how American you look is judged by how done up. So, as i wore a T-shirt, cardigan, hair minimally done, and no makeup, I was really just sporting the "I'm going to blend in with all you Europeans" look. I'm not sayin'-I'm just sayin.

How old ARE you?

Ok. So. The current merge of L1 and L2 acquisition which I'm experiencing is... legit to say the least. I hear things repeated to the kids in enough settings that I can pick them up. Just don't ask me to translate because I'll only have a guess. Sometimes I look it up (when I can spell it) or ask (when I feel like it). Yes, I'm going to leave that one as a cliff hanger (but I'll give you a hint: it involves a surprising-or not so surprising-degree of accuracy). Other times I make someone try to give me a detailed explanation between things like stimmt and wahr (true) or tun and machen (make/do and I'm actually still wheedling away at this one).

Completely unrelated...
Today I was talking to an older man who knew two things about me. (1) I'm an au-pair. (2) I'm an American. The second actually has nothing to do with what happened other than it was his conversation starter and he spoke to me in English. After a minute or two he said. "How old ARE you? You look VERY young." (Note: This was said in surprise, not flattery) I told him I was 22, but he just shook his head in disbelief. "Really?! Tell me-what's your secret?" I said, "Um... young-looking parents, I guess." I would comment on this conversation, but I think it stands alone. Some things never change.

The only logical explanation is that he thought I was trying to sneak into the country underage on a work visa...
I'm not sayin'-I'm just sayin'.

Culture Shock 2

Shock 1: As I opened my bathroom window (for the aforementioned reason) my ears were greeted by a rooster in the distance. Let's just say that's not something you hear every day in American suburbs.

Shock 2: I decided to do some web-surfing. NBD, right?  Well, Hulu greeted me with a lovely message explaining that I could not access outside the US. But I'm smart, you see, so I went directly to the shows' sites. Needless to say, I will never again be able to watch Switched at Birth. Shoot. I'm going to need a new hobby. The jury's still out on Psych...

But here's today's kicker:

Today I was trying to keep a low profile (see, it was my first interaction with strangers. Woooooo!).

Strategy 1) Use the words I know. I can throw in a "Hallo. Guten Morgen." Just as well as anyone else.
Strategy 2) Don't get caught alone. If I always have a legit speaker with me they can always bail me out.
Strategy 3) Keep my mouth shut. Then they can just assume I'm German. I look it just as much as the next girl (in fact, I am German-ish).

So, as you can see, I had it under control. But somehow my cover was blown. I don't know if someone overheard me speaking English or I just had that look--the one that says "I'm an American and don't quite belong here (yet)." Or perhaps "I'm trying really hard to cover it up but the fact that you're addressing me in German and I have to respond likewise is causing all blood and other fluid to drain." But one woman started to introduce herself and stopped mid-sentence and said "Oh. Do you speak German or English." Without thinking I responded in English (mistake number 1), "A little German." (mistake number 2). Her response, "Then I'll just speak English with you." Oh dear. Well we'll get 'em next time.

So basically I need to take all those years of studying acting and put them to better use. I think it's time to adopt a "fake it 'til you make it policy."

I'm not sayin'; I'm just sayin'

Culture Shock

I have finally overcome my anti-blog tendencies and decided to give this a shot, so hello family and friends. This is for you-so you no longer have to hear partial or repeated stories when I can't remember what I've already told you (which is inevitable). Just keep my voice in mind and this should make sense. Otherwise it will probably be somewhat gibberish-like.

Anyway, I have arrived in Germany and things are going great. Although I am getting used to new things all the time.

1) I couldn't find the flusher. I was informed that it is the giant button on the wall two feet above the toilet.

2) No fan in the bathroom. Showering has never been so quiet.

3) Remember etiquette class, when they told you to put your fork and knife across plate to signal that you're done? Well they actually do that here. And not just stuffy rich people at restaurants that I could never afford.

But nothing tops the big shocker I had today while ordering food:

I was given an international menu with pages of different languages (I had to use the one with the little British flag, which I thought was ironic since they were trying to make the place seem more authentic American). I then spotted the item named "American salad." I thought to myself, "Hm. What does this entail?" I then found that it was an American salad because it had American dressing. Then, feeling quite foolish, as probably the only American in the restaurant I had to turn to my German family and ask, "What is American dressing? Like Ranch, maybe?" They informed me that it was closer to Thousand Island. Then they directed me to French dressing and I'm thinking, "That one I know." They said "No, not the stuff that's like ketchup. French is more like ranch." Then looking nervously at the dressing list I asked, "So how about Italian? Is that like what I'm thinking Italian dressing is?" They told me that one was pretty close. Whew. So, I ordered an American salad with French dressing and still water. I think the only German word I used was "mit" (with) and I kind of just muttered it. I don't think the waitress even heard. But hey, it's a start. I can only handle so much culture shock at once, especially when I'm trying to figure out what "American" is supposed to be. Sidenote: I had "Everyone knows I'm in over my head..." playing on a loop in my mind this morning...

I'm not sayin'-I'm just sayin'.