A Park Bench Lesson

So there we were last Saturday afternoon, sitting on a bench in the park drinking coffee, enjoying the February sun, comfortably engaged in one of humanity's favorite pastimes: complaining.

It's easy to fall prey to.

"Here we are in Berlin, Megan," I said, "guests in Germany for an entire year, asked to come here to help teach their young people how to talk English. And what's the problem? We're paid a grant of just 700 euros a month, assigned a job in a school for twelve hours a week with no responsibility. And our visas won't allow us to even do any work to earn anything more. As a matter of fact, they even say we're not supposed to study at the university, although many assistant teachers don't seem to have taken that directive to heart."

"It's sort of like the annoying little thing that gets in the way of all the nothing you can afford to do," Megan nodded.

"We could be back in the US making money, putting something away for retirement right now, living in our own apartment, but instead we're over here confined in a rigid German system that permits us little economic incentive. It's a job with too little time, too little responsibility, and above all, too little money. I saw a posting for an internship here that pays 1800 Euros a month. 600 Euros goes to taxes, 600 go to provided housing, and you keep 600 each month for the rest of your expenses. That seems like a much better deal than what we've got here."

"And on top of all this, the good folks in the German immigration office wouldn't even grant an extra week at the end of the grant period before our visas expire," Megan added. "Your grant ends on June 30, but you are also always paid at the end of the month, so your last payment is also on June 30. But flights home cost hundreds of dollars less on Jund 29, so we're leaving before your last payment. Somehow we have to deal with that. If we could just have an extra seven days or so one our visas, there would be no problem."

"Sometimes Germans just really get on my nerves," I said. "Just open up a little bit, be a little bit more flexible and considerate," I said, swallowing the last of my coffee.

We both looked out into the park at all the people lit up by sunlight filtering through the trees overhead. A long sigh escaped from my chest. I looked over to my left to see a man coming our way, stopping at the neighboring bench to bend down and offer its inhabitants, another young couple, some chocolate from a box. Now he's heading to our bench next.

"Would you like some chocolate?" he asked with a friendly smile, extending a small box towards us.

"Just because?" I asked.

"Just because! Enjoy!"

With a 'Thank you' Megan and I each took a piece. "It's my second favorite kind of chocolate!" Megan exclaimed.

After the man had left and was heading for the next bench, Megan laughed. "Here we are, complaining about Germany and the people who live here, and look what happens! Maybe someone is trying to tell us something!"

"You're right, Megan," I admitted. "We've met lots of good people here, seen some amazing things and had unique experiences here. Let's always keep that in mind when we're not exactly satisfied."

And with that, we stood up and strolled off into that bright February afternoon.

The Supermarket

Well, it's been a while. But recent events nearly force me to write about an entirely German experience: going to the supermarket.

If you thought that Germans maintain a civil society, you're right. Unless they're grocery shopping. Then anything goes. The past couple times I was at the grocery store, events happened that I can no longer keep bottled up! Sharing is cleansing.

Browsing the shelves at the local Berlin supermarket, I pause at the chips. Corn chips, a (expensive) rarity in a country an ocean away from their origin. I already have guacamole at home. Now just some chips to go with them. But should I get them here? I know they're cheaper at another store. But guacamole will go bad, and mine is already opened, and tomorrow is Sunday: supermarkets closed. It's now or nev--...Monday. Well, just how big is this bag of chips? Looks can be deceiving. I move closer to the chips, abandonding my position on the opposite side of the aisle, where I had been standing at an appropriate distance so that others could pass by if they wished.

Hmm, this bag of chips is actually much smaller than it looks. I think I will just wait til Monday. As I am setting the bag back on the shelf, a woman approaches from the left side, brushes against me, and silently reaches in front of me with her right hand to grab a bag of barbeque chips on my right. !!! A thought flashes through my head. I'll just follow her until she stops to pick something up off the shelf, then I'll run up and grab something on the other side of her! But not today.

There's only one checkout line open when I'm ready to go. So, I line up behind the folks in front of me. There must already by five or six in line, and I'm well behind the "aisle" at the check-out line, sort of floating out in that nebulous space behind the registers. But there's already six or seven people lined up behind me now, too.

Suddenly there's another associate at the neighboring register. She calls, "I can help you over here!" I start to slide over to the next aisle when out of the corner of my eye I catch movement. Eyes wide with adrenaline, mouth gasping for oxygen, a woman TWO PLACES IN LINE BEHIND ME is crouched low over her cart and careening for the first place in the newly opened line. I never saw a cart swing around like that! Before anyone even had the chance to gasp, she was at the front of the line, the next three customers in line behind her filing up right after her. Move over, Andretti! Watch out, Jeff Gordon! Now we know how Michael Shumacher reached the top of the Formula One world!

At the orientation session last fall, we were told that Germans have a special way of "queing," as the Brits put it. I guess I've seen it. Some things, I think, I'll just never get used to.