Brutal honesty

Germans will very often tell you exactly what they think – and be prepared, it isn’t always what you want to hear. I find it a tricky one to call; on the one hand, I find it almost refreshing that people don’t beat around the bush and there is no such thing as the overly polite superficiality that is socially expected in the UK. On the other hand, the extreme directness and “honesty” here often verges on the rude and there has been many a time in Germany where I’ve been left gobsmacked, wishing I had told the person to shut up and mind their own business.

I’ve noticed that the Germans are particularly frank when it comes to matters to do with children. The question is, is this kind of upfront approach for the greater good of being honest and to help you and your baby or is it just being rude, overly opinionated and downright nosey? One thing is for sure; if you are bringing up a child in Germany, you have to quickly develop some thick skin and learn to appreciate the no-nonsense approach. Either that or it will drive you mad!    

In Germany, it is common for a midwife to visit you every day for the first couple of weeks that you are home with your first child, which I have to say, is very reassuring and a great help. However, I vividly remember the first time our midwife, Ortrud, came to our house and whirl-winded around our home telling us how wrong the set-up was for our daughter; the changing table should have been in the bathroom, the cot along an internal wall for extra warmth, etc. We also urgently needed a “Heizlampe” (heat lamp) for her bedroom, because otherwise she would get too cold while having her nappy changed. By-the-way, it is usually 21 degrees in our house in mid-winter without the heating on.  She also told me I didn’t dress her warmly enough (quote “du bist soo Englisch!” You are soo English!”) or use enough blankets and how silly I was for taking her outside for a walk in the freezing cold mid-January.

One of the first times I did venture outside with my daughter, a bike pulled up alongside the pram. The lady proceeded to tell me that she was a nurse and that the toys hanging from the pram were too close to my daughter’s eyes and would damage them. I think I politely thanked her for sharing her wisdom and knowledge with me (blatantly lying through my teeth and not following her “admirable” honest approach!)

Good friends of ours, who have since left Germany, were also offered some friendly child “advice” from their neighbour downstairs.  According to the neighbour, their baby screamed too much. As an “Erzieherin” (child care worker), she knew when a child was screaming too much and they should really do something about it (as if they weren’t already trying.) 

So, my advice to you all is to grin and bear it. Tell your tale to your other expat friends, laugh and/or blog about it. Wouldn’t life be boring if everyone were polite and nice to you the whole time anyway? 

Turn up naked and shop for free!

How about I give you 270 Euros worth of food shopping to celebrate and promote the opening of my new supermarket?

Sounds great, you say, but what’s the catch?

It’s really simple - the first 100 people to show up naked and shop naked can take advantage of the special offer!

This is exactly what happened in Süderlügum, a town in the North of Germany in June this year. Apparently it was such a hit that the police had to get involved to control the amount of people entering at any one time. 

You don’t believe me?

Read about it in German in the Bild (and see the pictures!): 

http://www.bild.de/news/inland/nackt/gratis-einkauf-wenn-kunden-nackt-kommen-24695332.bild.html

Or in  English on ABC news:

http://abcnews.go.com/blogs/business/2012/06/nude-grocery-shopping-spree-turns-heads/

Food frenzies 2 - queuing

The true horror and culture shock kicks in at the checkouts. Queues in supermarkets here are nearly always long and there are never enough checkouts open. You try to choose your queue wisely, but you invariably always end up in the slowest lane. Last week  you thought you had made a good choice of queues, but the two guys in front of you actually divided their shopping pile into four and paid four times, prolonging your agony.

After 10 years sufferance, you have learned that there is no time to be British, i.e. polite and patient at the checkout, or indeed, in any queue, in Germany. You either push in or get pushed out. Don’t hesitate and whatever you do, don’t leave a gap between you and the person in front; there will always be someone who tries to sneak in.  

And that’s when it happens. The loudspeaker rings and informs you that a new check out is opening.  Again, there is no time to ask the person in front of you kindly if they would like to go first. No, this is your one chance to jump the queue and beat everyone else. You ram your shopping trolley into the new lane as quickly as possible with complete disregard to any previously existing lines. 

As you load all your items onto the conveyor belt, you get more and more nervous as you near your turn at the till. You know you will need to execute every move perfectly over the next few minutes in order to avoid a long line of angry Germans (and even grumpier cashier). Bagging areas in Germany are tiny and the speed at which the ladies at the till work is astonishing. Your items are whisked through the scanner and you desperately try to pack all your items in keeping with the cashier’s pace, before you are basically pushed out of the supermarket by the next customer in line.

After years of training, you and your husband have perfected the technique. You no longer fumble for your EC Karte (bank card) in a sweaty panic while trying to finish the packing and balancing the remaining items in your hands. You always pay by bank card these days, as you also know that if you pay by cash you will inevitably be given change – change that is usually slammed down onto a plastic area near the till, complicating the process further, as you then have to pick up all the coins individually and put them back in your purse.

The cashier, who hasn’t once looked up, asks you “War alles in Ordnung mit dem Einkauf?” (was everything ok with your shopping experience), but you can tell she has no interest in hearing your answer and you often wonder whether she would even notice if you said no. 

And so it is all over for another week. The weekend can finally begin. 

Student - Landlord Speed Dating

I wasn’t planning on blogging this morning, but I just want to quickly share something I heard on the radio this morning and made me giggle. My morning drive into work is roughly half an hour depending on traffic and I always listen to “Radio Regenbogen’s Morgenshow.” University is starting up again here next week, so they were discussing the topic of student flats. Apparently, a 25sqm room in a student flat in Baden Württemberg can cost up to 500 Euros these days! Ouch. When I was a student here I was paying 180 DM – yes, Deutsche Mark, not Euros. And I was living in the Hauptstrasse (main street) in Heidelberg.

In order to facilitate students finding accommodation, the first “Student – Landlord Speed Dating Event” was held last night in Karlsruhe.  Did I just hear right, I thought, in my half-asleep state at 8am in the morning. Yes, I sure did. 12 landlords and 12 students had 5 minutes to get to know each other and then decide whether to exchange numbers.

I think about my own experience of speed dating and I think of Mr Müller – both highly disturbing thoughts for 8am in the morning. My mind starts to work overtime. Won’t this kind of event see all the 50 something, divorced, lonely landlords come crawling out of the woodwork to find themselves a “nice” student specimen and students lying through their teeth, desperate to find a flat?

I imagine the 5 minute conversation developing as follows …

“Good evening. So you’re looking for a flat?”

-          -  “Yes, Herr Müller.”

“Do you drink?”

-         -   “Of course not, Herr Müller.”

“Do you like to go out or host house parties and play loud music?”

-        -    “No, Herr Müller, I am a nice, quiet girl.”

“How many hours do you study a week?”

-       -     “At least 10 hours a day, Herr Müller. Lectures, library, study, study some more, that’s me.  How much is the rent, Herr Müller?”

“For you, only 200 Euros a month. Special student price. I’d really like you to move in with me…err, I mean, my flat for rent.”

Mr Müller and the Mould

“Sie müssen gut lüften. Vergessen Sie das bitte nicht. Hier ist ein Lüftungsleitfaden (You must ventilate well. Please do not forget. Here is a Ventilation Instruction Manual”), were among Mr Müller’s first words to us upon moving into one of his new-build flats in a building owned by him in the most expensive area in Heidelberg; Neuenheim.

In fact, before going on with the story, perhaps we should get to know Mr Müller a bit better. Mr Müller is short man, his obviously blonde hair at one stage is now grey, he sports a neat moustache, has unfriendly piercing blue eyes, never smiles, and very rosy cheeks. He is a drunk; an uneducated drunk; a very rich, uneducated drunk. I’ll leave it to you to speculate on how he made his money. Suffice to say he lives in the huge penthouse flat that covers the whole area of the building we moved into (that he owns entirely) with his wife. She is still very blonde, fake-tanned, also a drunk (clearly she has to be to put up with him) and is slightly more friendly. Together they own three parking spots in the garage modestly filled with a Mercedes SL, a Mercedes ML and, wait for it, the piece de resistance, a Bentley Cabrio. Somewhat paradoxically then, you will find him on a daily basis, sweeping the pavement outside the building, cleaning the garage or taking out the rubbish himself in his Birkenstocks.

You haven’t had much contact with him, apart from the standard “Guten Tag.”  That is, until you return from your three week holiday and discover mould growing on the walls in your bedroom. You phone Mr Müller to inform him. He shouts at you on the phone, but agrees to come down from the castle, take a look, and clean off the mould. “Ihr habt nicht richtig gelüftet” (you have not aired properly), he says, handing us more photocopied sheets on the airing process including picture diagrams. You must air at least 3 times a day for 10 minutes a time. You’ve been on holiday for 3 weeks? Well then, you need to get someone to come over during that time to air for you.

Now, I don’t like a stuffy flat any more than the next person. I have asthma and like to be able to breathe. I aired the flat. The problem is new-builds in Germany are usually so well-built, that nothing comes in or out. Great in the winter and great for your heating bills, but no so great for mould on walls, for example.

The next contact we had with Mr Müller, who as a result of the mould, basically told us to move out, was when we were doing the handover. Picture both Mr and Mrs Müller drunk as skunks on their hands and knees to inspect the wooden flooring, shouting at us as Mr Müller finds a 15.7cm scratch in his prize flooring. “Abschleifen!”(Polish!) he shouted. You will not get your deposit back until ze floor has been professionally polished. A few weeks later we receive a bill through the post for the completed job. We know for a fact that the work was never done; the bill was a fake. Perhaps this is an indication of how Mr Müller made his money.

Stoßlüften - Hardcore Airing

“Stoßlüften.”

Anyone who has spent any time in Germany will know the meaning of this word. For the benefit of everyone else, it means to hardcore air or to ventilate.  Run a quick search of “lüften” in Google Germany and the association the Germans have with this word will become clear. “Richtiges Heizen und Lüften”, “Tipps fürs richtige Lüften,” and of course, “Lüftungsleitfaden” are top of the list. Run a similar search in Google UK and the output is totally different.  We all know the Germans like their rules. And believe me there are rules. Even on airing flats. Rules on temperature of flats, how long to ventilate during different kinds of weather, when you have washing hanging up, when you have done the ironing, the distance you should keep your cupboards from external walls. You name it, there is a rule.