THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Friday, November 24, 1995 TAG: 9511220069
SECTION: DAILY BREAK PAGE: E1 EDITION: FINAL
LENGTH: Medium: 89 lines
WELL, I'VE managed to make it through packing and repacking, a plane ride that must have been planned by the devil himself, mild culture shock, horrible food and homework in August, just to go and get sick when everything did calm down.
So here I am in a room in a youth hostel in Germany far from home and feeling sorry for myself. There is nothing like a cold to make you feel homesick.
My first stop here was in the small town of Duderstadt, located along the former East/West German border, for a monthlong language orientation. Although the 63 students in this program have three hours of classes six days a week, most of our learning takes place outside the classroom.
I have studied German for four years, more than anyone here, and there are still times when I am amazed. Last Friday, I was at a museum with some of my classmates to see an exhibit on ``Struwwelpeter,'' a famous German children's book. There we met an elderly German gentleman who was eager to speak with young Americans, but once he opened his mouth, I was lost. He simply spoke too darn fast.
I've learned that not all Germans are friendly and eager to speak with me. The first night in Duderstadt, we toured the town. While we were busy being touristy - taking pictures of the church and all the half-timbered houses - I overheard four teenage boys remark, in German, about stupid Americans.
I was tempted to turn around and tell them, in German, that not all Americans are stupid and that this one could understand them just fine. Instead, I held my tongue. I'm no longer on my ``turf,'' and it's better just to accept the differences rather than to use them to divide us further. I have to remember that people often fear that which is not familiar and that back in Virginia Beach, I am just as likely to make fun of tourists.
Now I'm the tourist and everything here is different, although not necessarily in a bad way.
My first real culture shock came while standing in front of a drink machine. First, you get your sodas in bottles. Second, from a single machine you can buy mineral water, soda, juice or beer. Yes, that's right. You can buy beer from a drink machine.
My favorite soda is Sinalco, which sort of tastes like carbonated Tang. Mineral water is a sore point here among us Americans. It is impossible to get normal (i.e. tap) water here. Ice cubes are also hard to come by. At a biergarten the first week we were here, a friend asked for a cola with ice. The waiter was happy to oblige and brought back a Coke with one ice cube in it.
Coke is another thing that amazes me. I don't know who is in charge of Pepsi's international sales, but they are doing a very bad job. I have yet to see one Pepsi.
One thing there is a lot of, though, is ice cream. Everywhere you go you see Eis Cafes or people eating ice cream cones. A few days after we arrived here in Duderstadt, I went to get ice cream for the first time. When I asked, ``Kann ich bitte eine Grobe Kugel Vanille haben?'' (Can I have a large vanilla cone, please?), the Italian woman behind the counter just laughed. ``Of course you can,'' she replied in German, ``you're paying for it. What you mean is you want a vanilla cone.'' Buying ice cream has become a daily ritual, but I have never again asked if I ``can'' have ice cream.
Food isn't the only culture shock though. German society is definitely not as prudish as we are in the United States. Even in the very conservative town of Duderstadt, the majority of all clothing stores display underwear in their windows. Other than at Victoria's Secret, I can't think of one store in America where I've seen that.
Magazines, too, are completely different. When I bought my first German magazine, Bravo, a popular magazine for German teenagers, I was shocked to turn the page and find two pictures, one of a guy and one of a girl, wearing only their birthday suits. Full, frontal nudity was just not what I expected to find sandwiched between the teeny-bopper articles on music groups and the advice column.
My roommate, Angela, thinks the best example of the German tolerance for this stuff is a poster that she got in one of her magazines. On one side, there is a picture of kittens and on the other side there is a rather lewd picture of two people, uh, enjoying each other's company. (Hey, this is a family newspaper, all right?)
These things are not just true for magazines though. On a recent trip to a lake, three-fourths of all the young children were naked. It wasn't as if they had anything to hide, it was just the puritanical, prudish American in me that made me react. I guess I'll have to get over this ``American'' point of view though, because I'm here, come what may, for a year. MEMO: Carrie Ansell graduated a year early from Colonial High School so she
could spend her senior year at a high school in Germany.
Carrie Ansell will file occasional dispatches about life abroad.
by CNB