Rage Against the Host

I visited some friends last April who, like myself, have a multicultural family. She is American and her husband is Austrian. After living for almost twenty years in Austria she called in her “marker” that she could someday return to the USA. So, they packed up the family and left fabulous Austria behind for Texas. My situation is similar in that I am American but moved to Germany with my German husband. I asked her Austrian husband, now living in Texas, how his adjustment has been. He mentioned that he has had to do some soul searching in order  not to be angry at America. Wait! He was angry with America? How could he be angry with America if I was angry with Europe? Wasn’t Germany to blame for all my frustrations and America perfect?

He helped me realize that maybe sometimes Expats have some displaced anger. It is not easy  to learn a new culture by any means. The little things can set you off. I remember one day feeling particularly annoyed at the lack of a line system in a bakery. For a country with so many processes and rules, how can Germans not know how to queue up properly? I was feeling empowered and gave the twenty-year-old bakery guy my philosophy on queuing up! He looked very embarrassed and didn’t seem to know what to do with me and replied: “that’s the way it is”. Then that got me started on a whole new annoyance, the lack of customer service in my host country. I walked away, grumbling  about Germany under my breath.
So, I have come up with some simple ideas for overcoming “Rage Against your Host” (country). Foremost, figure out what you are personally angry about. Is it the queue at the bakery, or are you angry that you followed a partner on an adventure that is less adventure and somewhat stressful? Either way, all expats should be on this journey to learn about other cultures and learn about ourselves in the process. I apparently like a good clear queue/line.

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Courtesy of Pexels.com

Don’t forget to smile! I was lost and upset on the train system last week and was exiting the train looking at the train schedule on my phone, hesitating about what I should do. An old man got quite snippy with me. He sneered at me “Are you getting on or off the train”. I was late for a class and frustrated and I turned around and started yelling at him in German “You know you could be nicer”. It must have really startled the poor guy to be confronted in public by an American. (yes, my accent is undeniable) But then I stopped to think, am I the one not being nice by confronting him? So, I took a deep breath and reminded myself about the phenomena of Rage Against Your Host. The next week, I ever so slightly bumped into a woman and she gave me the German death stare. I smiled at her and completely disarmed her! I am here to say, it worked much better than confronting unsuspecting victims.

Learn the language. My German is pretty kick-ass, but I still get myself in difficult situations where I think I understand but completely do not! I get frustrated and angry but after some introspection I believe I am angrier at myself for not studying more, not listening to German TV and using the translate button on Google Chrome way too often.

So, breathe and give it a try! No country is perfect, learning a little patience might be helpful for us all.

Anyone interested in Guest Blogging? Especially those with the other perspective? i.e. you moved from Europe to the USA?

Frau Hentschel if you’re nasty

I learned something about myself recently at the doctor’s office. Then I started thinking, you know you’ve discovered a lot about yourself since moving overseas. Leaving one’s bubble can open your eyes to many things. So for this blog, I have compiled a list of what I have learned about myself since moving to Germany.

I discovered that I am ridiculously modest. I was at the doctor a couple of weeks ago and he told me to take my shirt off. Now when a United States doctor needs to see you without clothes they hand you a paper robe and ask you to undress while they politely step out of the room. So when the doctor asked me to take my shirt off and just stand there I was confused. I had this momentary panic that I didn’t understand his German correctly and I would be standing there naked for no reason. So I replied, “Really you want my shirt off”. Yes, he answered, shirt off. Right now here in this room? Yes again. I did a quick survey of the room for the lovely little paper robes found in American doctors offices and nothing. I was really startled that it bothered me. I took off my shirt and totally acted like a cool German frau. But I quietly wished I wore a cuter bra.

It seems that I love having a title. In the U.S.A I was rarely called Mrs. Hentschel and if I had been I probably would have scoffed at it and told them to call me Marie.  At the recent doctor visit, I had to deal with the dreaded German office assistant. Sometimes I find the medical assistants more difficult than the dreaded “German cashier”; I was prepared for bitchiness. So I walked in without a smile and said: “Frau Hentschel here”. That was it, no chit-chat nothing. That was hard for me. They treated me perfectly fine and everything was Frau Hentschel this, Frau Hentschel that. But it felt good, I had the power. I sauntered into my waiting room with my noisy kid in tow and my 10 dollar backpack like I owned the place. Oh yes, I could get used to being Frau Hentschel.

I had been spoiled in the U.S and really had no idea. Spoiled right down to my carrots. I used to buy those baby carrots that were pre-peeled and just throw them in a soup or stew. I don’t think they exist in Germany. People peel their own carrots here, can you believe that?  I know my foodie friends are saying hey those baby carrots taste bad but hey I was working full time and had a kid in my late forties, I didn’t have time to peel! The carrots are only the tip of the iceberg on how convenient and spoiled things are in the U.S is but maybe that is another blog.

I hate to admit it but I am loud at times and do love chit-chat. My oldest daughter went to school in London and often said mom people keep complaining that I am loud, am I? I was really puzzled by that and told her of course not, don’t be silly. I am here to say with certain scientific data that Americans are in fact loud. My whole family was here for vacation and we were a traveling rock concert. But you know what, the waitress in the hotel said we were a super joyful family. So I will go with joyful instead of loud.

I realized that I love my country. It’s like the USA is part of me that I can’t ever imagine going away. Every morning I wake up and check the news.  I ache for the cultural and political divide that my country is experiencing. I understand now why immigrants want to keep some of their cultural identity intact. It’s part of my identity and no matter how much fun it is being Frau Hentschel I always will be chatty, joyful Marie from the USA.

Frau Reyer (aka mom) and Frau Hentschel being loud at a German hotel




German Death Stare

This particular blog has been a struggle for me. It has to do with my struggle with the cultural differences here. I struggle with this post because I want to be fair and not generalize. In Texas, I had many friends from other countries. I often heard generalizations about Americans. For example, I heard that American’s won’t go out with their kids to the playground when it’s a bit cold outside. I would often tell people, no that’s just Texas, you should visit Brooklyn. Or the generalization that Americans waste energy, ok that one is probably spot on, nevermind. So here we go with my generalization, Germans stare and not only do they stare at you they can sometimes give you “ the German death stare”.

When I was growing up I was told don’t stare, it’s impolite. The minute your parents caught you staring you got a sharp reminder threw bared teeth “don’t stare”. I didn’t even realize how ingrained in me that is until I moved here and started reacting to the endless stares. Max and I walked into a restroom together last week and a whole family was in there. When we walked in they all stopped suddenly and just stared at us mouths gaping. Max asked me why they were staring. I told him it was probably because they heard us speaking English. He thought for a moment and said: “well I speak German so they should only stare at you.” Well, I speak German also, I rebutted. “Yeah , but not good” he replied. Why do kids never have your back?

At my son’s Judo, one of the mom’s was staring at me so hard and just wouldn’t stop. I immediately felt 14 years old and wanted to yell at her “ Bitch what are you staring at”. Then I remembered, staring is totally acceptable here. She was probably daydreaming about what to make for dinner and just staring at me in the process. Let’s give her the benefit of the doubt anyway.

The “German death stare” however is slightly different than the ordinary German stare. It is frequently given by an older German lady who is mad that you broke a rule or a cashier. This stare will bring the strongest person to their knees.

The grocery store has been a scene of countless stares and stress for me: so much to understand, so many rules and so many older German women. The grocery stores in Texas are so easy, they greet you with a fake smile and make chit-chat while the groceries are being entered into the system. Then a teenager dutiful bags your groceries for you. All the while you chit-chat about the weather or the latest High School dance. Here in Germany, you have to get your groceries on the conveyor belt and Schnell! Last week my son was distracting me about the candies for sale, I did not get all of my groceries on the conveyor belt in a timely manner. The cashier stopped what she was doing and waited with arms crossed for me to finish getting my groceries up on the belt. I looked up in fear and caught “the German death stare”. I am fairly sure she called me a bad word in German in her head. You think I’m being sensitive? You were not there to witness the glare. I was sweating and yelling at my son through gritted teeth “ let me concentrate, dammit”. I finally got all my items up and she proceeded with checking me out. I was not done yet, I needed to bag my own groceries. I turned around and there was a line behind me of German stares and I imagined that they are all cursing me for being so slow. I bagged like a maniac throwing eggs on top of bread and drag my energetic, whiny son out of the store.

So I started practicing the stare. I mean a really good one. I caught a women staring at me from the bus stop. I stared back so hard and shot imaginary superhero type rays from my eyes saying” piss off”. She looked away quickly. Victory was mine, I thought I might be getting the hang of this place. I took it a step further when a woman yelled at me about being out of the bike lane I yelled back in German “ I know, I know, leave me alone.” I was starting to feel empowered and was imagining ways to tell people off.

Then I was feeling a tad introspective.  Why was I angry and reacting to cultural differences? Is there a way to incorporate a little of who you are into a new culture? Could I kill the cashiers with kindness? Could I stare back with a lovely smile? Wouldn’t it be fun to have some freedom and just freely stare at people and imagine stories about them? I’ll give it a go and see how I can incorporate both the cultures.  I will say, however, that cashier is going down.

Max showing off
I like to think that our family keeps things on the down low and just fits in.