Können wir uns duzen, Kaninchen?

Ryan and I are doing pretty well in our German these days. Someone told me my German is as fast as my English the other day, which was exciting. But little problems still remain. For example, when we were visiting friends in Berlin last weekend Ryan tried to order a "Kaninchen" of coffee. The waiter was very confused. Then Ryan remembered that he wanted a "Kännchen" (pot) not a "Kaninchen" (rabbit). We had a good laugh.

Another issue is whether to use the formal or informal "you." I wonder if native speakers of languages where there are two versions of "you" have an instinct for this? There are lots of support staff at the school where I work-- an army of schedulers, receptionists, etc. I like to speak German to them, to keep from getting rusty. In many German offices, co-workers use "du", the informal you. But not all. And older people can call younger people "du" but not always vice-versa. There are a few coworkers my age who I have "duzen"-ed with. (They asked me, "We can use 'du', right?" and of course I agreed.) The head receptionist of the school is a very nice older lady, and she always calls me "du" but I didn't know if I could call her "du" or "Sie." I always stuck to "Sie" to be on the safe side.

But yesterday as we were walking through the courtyard, she grabbed my bare leg and said "You're not wearing pantyhose, you must be freezing!" It was a little strange, but I've decided this is a sign that I can "duzen" her. What do you think? Are we friends now? We never have this problem in English!

Opa Patrol

Today was my first day of work, well training really, and it went well. Its a bit dry at the moment, mostly going over the "principles" of the school, which are not to be confused with the "language learning conditions" or the "learning cycle." We did get an example lesson in Russian, which was kind of fun. I can now say the colors in Russian, but can't spell them, so you'll just have to trust me on that one.

BUT what was really odd today was the Opa (grandpa) patrol. I must explain. When my parents lived in Germany 20-something years ago, my mother was continually harassed as she pushed my brother and I in the pram by German Omas (grandmothers). We were not dressed warmly enough, or not wrapped properly, or simply too skinny!

Perhaps because I don't have children, I haven't encountered the Oma patrol. Though if I'm ever in the grocery store, I find asking old ladies about the various foods to be quite helpful. Do you want to know the difference between the red and white sauerkraut? Ask an old lady. (But be prepared for a 20 minute answer.)

What I do find is that old men like to give me unsolicited advice. Usually its about general safety or cost effectiveness. The other week an old gent told me I shouldn't buy the crate of beer, but rather take all the beer bottles out of the crate and carry them individually, as there is a deposit on the crate. Right. Normally I just smile and say "Thank you, I will think about that in the future." But today an Opa really got on my nerves.

I was weaving through the crowded supermarket after work, just stopping in for a bottle of wine, when I felt a jab in my back. An old man was poking me quite hard and saying, "HALLO! You must hold your bag closed! A thief will steal your wallet!" I was pretty annoyed, jerked my bag away from him, and walked off. He called after me "THANK YOU!" in that voice that meant I should be the one saying it.

I simply rolled my eyes and kept walking. But I'm starting to think I should really say something to all this undesired advice. I don't want to be rude, but I would like to let them know that their advice is un-asked for and undesired. So here's what I've come up with:

1. Thank you, but I'm 25 years old, not 15, and I can look after myself just fine.
2. I'm sorry, do we know each other? Then why are you telling me this?
3. Dad? Is that you? You look so different!

No offense to my dad, of course. But he's the only man that can give me such advice without receiving a quite exaggerated eye roll. Leave a comment and let me know what you would say to such advice.

Update!

By the way, I've ended my German lessons for the time being and will start a NEW JOB in March. I will be teaching English to bankers.

I will miss my German classes, not only have I made friends, but at least once every class I laughed so hard that I couldn't breathe. But don't worry, I'm sure the cultural mishaps will continue to provide me with plenty of things to write about.

Helpful Hints for the Future Au Pair

As I mentioned in the last post, I've started a part-time job as a nanny. I'm spending the afternoons with a very precocious 5-year old girl, and so far I'm enjoying the job a lot. But it reminded me that its never the kids that make or break the job-- its the parents. If a kid is naughty, I can handle that; its really whether or not the parents are easy to deal with that counts.

Reflecting on my 5+ years of nanny experience, as well as much more time spent as a regular babysitter, I've noticed some general tendencies that Moms who hire nannies tend to follow. (I hardly ever deal with Dads, take that for what its worth)

MYSTERY MOM. This is a mom who doesn't work outside the home or in it. She disappears for odd hours doing God-knows-what. Her schedule is sporadic and she doesn't ask many questions about what her children have been up to in her absence. Is she conducting a steamy affair? Or is she a secret agent?

ANAL-RETENTIVE MOM. She rations her children's toilet paper and if she's gone for more than a few hours schedules babysitters back-to-back so that each can be "fresh" for her kids. Her children are scheduled to the max and must be dragged kicking and screaming to a variety of after school lessons that they hate.

DOUBLE-STANDARD MOM. When she's around the kids watch TV and eat junk food, but when you're there all that is verboten. She gives in when her kids scream, but because she's paying you, expects you to get them to eat their vegetables and practice piano. When she's around she'll also overrule any punishments you mete out to her kids. This is the worst type of Mom to work for.

MESSY MOM. This Mom is totally overwhelmed by her surroundings. Her house is a mess, she's never on time, and she talks constantly about her terrible work situation. When she asks you to stay late for the first few times you feel bad enough to do it-- you even try and tidy her wreck of a house. But after a while you inevitably realize this job is too big for one nanny to handle.

MASTER MOM. Here is a Mom who brings her professionalism home with her. When she says she'll be home at 5:30 she is. Or if she's not, she slips you a tenner and apologizes profusely. She realizes that you too have a personal life, and doesn't make excessive demands. When you're both home she lets you do your job. She's not perfect, but by respecting her au pair she'll keep her.

Thieves!! (and news update)

Its been a very busy October and I haven't posted much. I've started a part-time nanny job after school (I feel like I'm 16, I just go to school and babysit!), I entered a short story contest (if I lose I'll post it here), and I took the B2 German test yesterday. If I pass then I'll move on to the final level of German!

We have been preparing for the test for a few weeks now, and we took several practice tests, which were very helpful. The test consists of 4 reading comprehension exercises, 2 listening comprehension exercises, 1 essay, and 1 proof-reading exercise. What amused me were the topics of the reading comprehension sections. Its as if the Goethe Institute is trying to indoctrinate us with German values as we read. There were articles on eating organic, riding bicycles, and putting your children in Kindergarten. But the best was about preventing theft in your apartment.

I can be a bit paranoid about thieves/rapists/murderers entering my apartment, especially when Ryan is gone, as he was when we read this article about theft prevention. I stop myself from taking ridiculous precautions like sleeping by my cell phone or hiding the butcher block, because that's what crazy people do, and I try really hard not to be crazy. I lock my door and tell myself that criminals probably choose apartments belonging to rich people, or at least apartments without so many stairs.

This article recommended that when you are gone you should have your neighbor raise and lower your Rollladen every night. (For those of you who've never had the pleasure, Rollladen are strange metal blinds that fortify your window.) I NEVER raise or lower the Rollladen. I live on the 3rd floor (4th in American parlance) and so I don't really think that someone would scale the front of my building and break through the window. And we only have them on our living room window, so they don't provide convenient darkness while we're sleeping in.

But then I started wondering: are thieves spying on my Rollladen? Do they think I'm on vacation? Once or twice since then I have put down my Rollladen at night. But I realized that if they are spying on me and I don't put the Rollladen down, maybe I won't have to have a neighbor do it when I go on vacation. Which is good, because I've tried introducing myself to my neighbors and they are very unfriendly. (Case in point: I said to my neighbor "Hi, I'm Katy, I'm your neighbor." She looked at me, said "Yes." and closed the door!)

So I've decided to ignore that advice. If only we would read an article about finding friendly neighbors, I'd be set.

The Threat of Failure

There have been a flurry of articles lately about women's happiness. Our feminist fore-mothers predicted that as traditional roles loosened and more areas of opportunity were opened to women, women's happiness would increase. But it hasn't. In fact, it's tanked.

I've been mulling it over, and while I'm no expert, I can say that in my own life I find the expectations of others to be a huge source of stress. Its like body image. I get up in the morning and take a look in the mirror and say, "I'm not perfect, but I look pretty good." But often as the day wears on and I see and compare myself with others, my faults begin to leap out at me. At this point there are two responses:
1. say to myself, she is probably more attractive than me, there's nothing I can do about that.
-OR-
2. I bet if I lost 5 lbs I could have legs/abs/arms like that

And while response 1 seems more hopeless, I think its actually a better way of looking at the problem. Because I know that I'm healthy, and it doesn't matter whether or not I'm the most attractive woman I know. I have more to offer than a pretty face.

The same thing happens with career comparisons. If I were alive a generation ago, and Ryan and I were introduced to another couple and I said "I'm a housewife, he's an engineer" no eyebrows would have been raised. But, in our current situation, I hate facing that question. People feel awkward meeting an unemployed person; they don't know what to talk about. Its a relief to meet other women who are in the same boat.

When people do engage me on the subject of work, its always the same conversation. "Well, what did you study? Theater! How...interesting. There's an English Theater in Frankfurt, why don't you go do some acting there?" As if I'd snap my fingers and dash out of the building, run straight to the stage, burst into tune and instantly get cast in an entire season's worth of shows. I know people are trying to be helpful, but I'd rather talk about the lint that collects between my couch cushions than hear most peoples' suggestions for furthering my career in Frankfurt.

Ryan and I have been having the "what should I do with my life" talk lately. I know that I like working with kids, and I think I would like to become a teacher. But I've started looking into that possibility and so far all I've gotten is a big pile of NO. I'm going to investigate further, but if I end up "just a nanny," it would be nice if people actually treated that like a serious job. I certainly do! Instead of giving me piteous looks, people could imagine that I'm highly qualified and good at what I do.

Maybe the only way to deal with the outrageous expectations placed on women (great career, successful marriage, happy children, volunteer work) are simply to defy them. I don't believe its possible, that American mantra, "you can have it all." And the more people that would acknowledge that, the less expectations we would feel. Perhaps we'd all wind up happier.

The Eternal Job Hunt

I've signed on for another month of German class. I wasn't sure I would at first, although its very fun and I have a lot to learn, because I want to get a job. Odd as it may sound, I miss the feeling of needing to be someplace. I don't like to have so much free time on my hands. Having a job makes one feel very useful. Up until this year I've always had a job-- ever since I was 16 years old. So its very strange to be a full-time Hausfrau now. I've become a cleaning maniac. Yesterday I even dusted the baseboards!

Today I met with my friend, Marisa, for our "elite networking association" aka eating ice cream and comparing notes on job-hunting and living abroad. She is here with her husband who is teaching at an international school. Its very reassuring to talk to someone who's going through the same things. She's very easy-going and we get on like a house on fire. We complained about having to get photos taken for our resumes, although maybe being cute will help us get an interview?

I still get emails from the nanny agency I used to work for, and I know that's an option. I had decided that I wouldn't go out for nanny jobs anymore, because when its a good fit its a great job, but when its a bad fit its the worst job ever. Some parents stick to the agreed hours and let you do your job, others try to walk all over you and undermine you at every turn. Plus all the jobs in Frankfurt seem to be insane hours-- well over 40 a week. But if I don't get an interview for something soon, I might have to apply. I really want a job!

Uggggggg....Blekkkkkkk........Grrrrrrrr!!!!!!!!

A young man walks down the street. Standing inside the door of the bank is his wife. She smiles as she sees his approach. She gathers her folder of documents and opens the door to him.
"I brought you some chocolates." The man smiles meekly. His wife's eyes bulge, her voice drops to a whisper.
"What has happened?"
"Didn't you say you always wanted to live in Frankfurt?"
"WHAT?!" She exclaims too loudly. Others in the bank turn to see the commotion.

That was yesterday evening. Our appointment to switch to Berliner Volksbank was rendered instantly moot. Ryan's company has decided in their infinite wisdom, to move our entire branch to Frankfurt this summer. Keep in mind, some of the Berlin employees haven't even moved in yet! We have been in our apartment for 4 weeks, and had furniture for 1 week. This whole thing is totally bizarre. It was explained as having to do with an argument between the regional manager (whose family is in Frankfurt) and a recently-fired CFO who set us up in Berlin. And so everyone gets to move or be out of a job. For us there is no choice, although we love Berlin and partly chose this position because of its location. But our visas are tied to Ryan's job. Great.

The place we are moving is not even IN Frankfurt, but about 30 minutes southeast by car, which we don't have. Needless to say, we are all pretty pissed. Can I hope for a branch-wide mutiny?

A Week of Perpetual Incompetence

Two Sundays ago we were invited to a nice dinner with a family and another couple from church. We were all Americans save for one German, and we got on the subject of German professionalism. I complemented the country, pointing out how seriously people take their jobs, and with such pride. German products are generally known for their high quality, which I attribute to the fact that Germans generally have one career for life. There is no waitressing to pay for tuition, no second job to make ends meet. If you are a bank teller or a garbage man, its because you chose that career, trained for it, and will have it for the rest of your life. There is an incentive to be good at what you do.

But that teaches me for stereotyping, even in a positive sense. Ryan and I have been battling a variety of companies this last week who display a stunning array of incompetencies.

Friday we were due a visit from Deutsche Telekom, the company that owns all the internet connections in the country. Although we have our internet from Vodafone, DT has to come and set up the connection. We had to wait 16 days for this appointment, and after the technician left, it didn't work. Several phone calls later, I was given the answer "maybe it will just start working over the weekend." Right. I love it when electronic gadgets fix themselves.

Surprise surprise, still broken on Monday. And meanwhile Ryan's company still hadn't gotten our reimbursements back to us and our bank account was dwindling quickly. Monday Ryan set out to tackle that problem while I spent more time on the phone to Vodafone and Deutsche Telekom, each of whom denied the internet problem was their fault. After going back and forth with them for several hours, I was told to wait until noon on Tuesday, then maybe it would work. The logic here is stunning.

Tuesday afternoon I ring Vodafone again and they promise to send a Vodafone technician...tomorrow. I explain that I've been waiting since Friday and before that for two weeks, but "nothing can be done today." Ryan managed to get the email of his HR person's supervisor in Canada who is very apologetic about his expense report and promises to send the money herself immediately. Then surprisingly, a Vodafone technician shows up at 6pm. He tells me Deutsche Telekom has made a mistake and he will get another technician out tomorrow. He also fixes one of my electrical sockets, which was nice of him.

Wednesday morning the internet miraculously works. HR tells Ryan the money should be in our account today. All is right in the universe!? Not quite. Deutsche Telekom still wants to send a technician out and I spend a few phone calls explaining we don't need a technician anymore. And the money doesn't show up in our bank account. Ryan investigates further and comes to discover that Deutsche Bank has mysteriously removed his name from our account, and that's why we can't receive his salary. I spend some time on the phone with Deutsche Bank, then rush down to the nearest branch (3 subway stops away) and they have just closed, because its Wednesday, and that's the day it arbitrarily closes 2 hours early. Blech.

So today I'm off to correct that situation, as soon as the bank opens at the lazy hour of 10. Its been a bit of a stressful week to say the least, but I'm hoping that these things won't be a problem in the future. I'll probably get a new bank account since this isn't the first time that Deutsche Bank has screwed up our account. And luckily we won't have to deal with Deutsche Telekom or Vodafone much in the future since we are now installed. That is a good incentive not to move. There has been a big row in the finance department at Ryan's company's headquarters over the expense report and that situation has been worked out. So there is hope that our experience with German companies will go back to being smooth and delightful.

Culture Clash

If you asked a friend to describe me one of the traits would probably be something like ludicrous, goofy, bizarre, or silly. Silly is a word I often use when working with the children, because children are weird. But its not nice to call them that, it is ok to call them silly. Because everyone wants to be silly, right?

Wrong. I have recently learned that any translation of silly or goofy into German = Dummkopf (stupid head). So the kids don't liked to be called that. There is no positive word for doing something bizarre to be funny. One can call someone funny without too much fear of them taking offense, but its not so highly valued as in American culture.

F last week had a long talk with her mother and afterward asked me to stop calling her "verrueckt" (crazy) which Ryan and I had recently discovered and had been calling each other and everyone else. Apparently this is also an insult.

Germans really value dignity and intelligence, so I guess it shouldn't surprise me that children don't want to act silly or crazy, but I am disappointed. I suppose if I didn't do all the silly/stupid things that I do, I'd be more dignified... but at what cost? AT WHAT COST!!!??!!

I also have a hard time opening my eyes underwater.

This just in, Katy changes her blog name to "Sluts Who Love Sex!!"

OMG, my brother Caleb raved about the new movie "Juno." Then my husband showed me this CNN article http://www.cnn.com/2008/SHOWBIZ/Movies/01/09/film.diablo.cody.ap/index.html?iref=newssearch
about the screenwriter and how she got discovered. Apparently it was "...Mason Novick, who stumbled across Cody's racy blog while surfing for porn and ended up becoming her manager."

Thus I'm changing the name of my blog so I will become rich and famous and move back to America or buy a huge jet and travel back and forth across the Atlantic as much as I like.