Eingedeutsched.

Germanified.

One of my biggest disappointments with this blog thus far is my lack of documentation of my day-to-day experiences, the mundane details of daily operation. This is really disappointing to me for two reasons. First of all, as a lover of idiosyncrasies, I've found these aspects of my experiences to be the most interesting. Secondly, and more importantly, however, I know that these are things that I'm going to ache for when I am no longer here.

The only problem with musing about these "little things" after living in Germany for a year is that they are no longer as interesting or noticeable as they were am Anfang (at the beginning). And I suppose that brings me to the thesis of this post - that I am pretty thoroughly eingedeutsched.

Wieso?

Nothing makes this notion more apparent than traveling to another country for a couple of days. On my recent trip to Italy (we were in Milan, Venice and Bologna) with Erin, I found myself overwhelmed with how different the place feels - crowded public transportation with a fairly loosely adhered-to timetable; bubble-helmet-wearing students on Vespas weaving in and out of cars, bikes, people, dogs, construction, everything; and eye contact. I've lived in Germany long enough not to spew platitudes about how "cold and unfriendly Germans are," but it is definitely true that when you're walking down the street attending to your business, passerby generally do not gaze into your direction. It's not rude or off-putting, it's just how it is - I sometimes have exchanged a tight-lipped smile with parent pushing a gurgling baby in a stroller or a particularly proud dog-walker, but otherwise people tend to keep to themselves. I've become pretty accustomed to this, so Italy was almost overwhelming in that sense.

One of the nights that we were in Venice, we were waiting for our vaporetto (water taxi, the standard public transportation in Venezia...pretty cool) to take us back to our hotel for the evening, and there was some kind of construction on the Grand Canal that caused us to wait at a pier that was apparently out of order for around thirty minutes before we figured it out. There was no sign, the vaporetto operators that passed by us didn't really say anything to us - eventually we followed a group of frustrated German tourists (by the way, I think that Venice has more Germans and Americans than Italians...) who found the correct platform and grumbled about how that boat was fifteen minutes late. Erin, who has had some pretty bad experiences with DeutscheBahn will probably think that that I'm giving German public transportation too much credit here, but I mused to myself both about how such a situation would probably never happen in such a way in Germany and the tourists' absolute disgust at the whole thing...

My point is, I think I've arrived at the point where I not only subconsciously expect these things, but I kind of like them. I don't cross the street when the light is red, I take comfort in the fact that my bus will be on time (and that there will be some kind of explanation if it isn't) and that nobody will approach me on the street when I'm carrying home my groceries. I order my food by simply saying a number, know that I can pay a restaurant bill getrennt (separate) without pissing off the waiter, and always drink my water with bubbles and without ice. I've even become accustomed to the idea of bringing your own birthday cake to work and shaking hands with your colleagues on the occasion. And who needs to shop on Sunday, anyway?

EDIT: I also forgot to add that any non-German beer now tastes like water to me. Also, the toilet brush in every bathroom (and not-so-subtle signs imploring toilet frequenters to use it) thing - never even think about it anymore.