How I am and (am not!) European

Inspired by my friend Jen's post on how she's melded her Yankee upbringing and her new Southern roots, I decided to make a list of the things that, after a bit more than a year, I've changed. Or not changed.

Ways I have adapted to life here in Weimar
1. Moderate use of the metric system. I am pretty comfortable with weather temperatures in Celsius and while I sometimes still need to do the math (double F plus 30 =C) I can safely contribute to a conversation about a 30 degree day, and not discuss wearing mittens. As an aside, we don't really get a lot of 30 degree days here in Weimar, but the one time we did, local schools were closed for the heat. CLOSED. As in, snow day. But it was called "Hot Day" and it was all over the news.

2. Maths. That's right, in a school that's overrun with Brits and folks from Down Under, those of us that call it "math" are outvoted. It's maths, as in mathematics. I'm comfortable with keeping it plural and while it can feel affected when I say it (which isn't often as an English teacher!) I'm learning. I'm also very comfortable with a lot of British spellings (have been since forever, actually, read a lot of books from Ireland and you will be too) like behaviour and organisation. I am still trying to learn to use whilst comfortably. Maybe by the end of this school year, whilst on maternity leave with two Brits, I can get there.

3. Dressing Fiona in layers. I learned quickly last year that as an immigrant parent, I was ALWAYS dressing her in the wrong thing. She was too hot, she was too cold (according to the teachers). It's embarrassing, so to compensate, I dress her in what I think is WAY too many clothes- but they seem to like it. Today she went to school (and it's about 10 degrees - see #1) wearing jeans, warm socks, an undershirt, a thick turtleneck, a sweatshirt, a jacket, a hat, and mittens. Now normally I would have put her in a long sleeved T-shirt instead of the turtleneck and sweatshirt, but I'm adapting. Fiona, on the other hand, always complains of being hot. Better than looking like an ignorant immigrant, though.

4. A meal of warm or fresh rolls or bread and cold cuts counts as dinner (aside- only once or twice a week. I'm not fully German and can't do it every day). And friends, let me tell you, the clean up is so easy (nothing to wash, really, just stick a few plates in the dishwasher and sweep up the crumbs) and little to cook. I like it. I will certainly bring this one back with me.

5. I truly prefer walking to driving most places. Especially when the parking is limited. The idea of buckling Fiona in, finding a parking spot, paying for said spot, and then still walking a bit to my final destination fills me with dread. All the more reason to just walk. When I was home this summer, I HATED the idea of doing errands and driving among a few shops near each other (for example Target at the Loop and Old Navy at the Loop) but would have been laughed at, mocked, and hit by a car if I walked between them.

6. Every time I enter a home (mine or someone else's) I immediately remove my shoes. We all do. In my own home, I put on house shoes (slippers) and in someone else's, I just wear socks. I feel uncomfortable wearing my dirty outside shoes on the nice clean floors. When someone wears shoes in my house, it doesn't bother me- in fact, I don't think I notice. But I myself wouldn't do it.

Ways I'm still American

1. The metric system- when driving, I can follow the speed limits in KPH but often translate them in my head (very loosely, have you tried zipping along on the Autobahn and doing extensive maths? I don't recommend it) to MPH. I also judge distance in both, but always convert to cook. Our scale at home is in kilos (which is lovely actually) but I always multiply to find my real weight (not so lovely). And Fiona is just about 1 meter tall, which sounds nice, but I always have to think of a yard stick and calculate to figure out her real height- 39 inches.

2. Safety. Yes indeed, safety. And most of you know that, even as Americans go, I'm on the more... uh... extreme right side of safety. I love fire exits, car seats, and safety nets under playgrounds. I don't let my child go off with strangers (or parents of her friends from kindergarten) or drive in cars of others. I don't leave her unattended on the playground. I move the candle on the table at every restaurant we go to so it's not going to burn Fiona, and I coat her head with hairspray every day before school to prevent head lice. I'm cautious and I often use my nationality as an excuse. "Sorry, I don't feel comfortable letting Fiona play on the playground alone while we're inside the school building. We're American, you see."

3. Shoes. I try, I really do. I've found some reasonably German-looking shoes that I can wear on the slippery, uneven cobblestones (even while pregnant and more clumsy than normal). They're flat, of course. But real Germans wear SUPER high heels all the time on said streets, even during festivals where there are endless wires and hazards on the ground (see #2). I can't do it. And won't do it in the spring when carrying a baby, holding a 4-year-old's hand, and navigating streets built before pavement.

4. Dinner is our main meal. We eat dinner as a family, and it's usually hot (or some piece of it is, even if it's just the rolls). But Germans consider LUNCH the main meal of the day. I just cannot consider eating the school lunch (which is often something like fish and egg casserole which makes me gag even when I'm not pregnant) or a peanut butter sandwich, in a 20 minute window, while correcting quizzes with one hand the main meal of my day.

5. Chips- I am not a huge chip eater, but when I do, or if I'm having a party, I want plain potato chips or plain tortilla chips. Not curry flavored, not "oriental" flavored (whatever that is) and definitely not barbecue-curry-Oriental. Plain. They're impossible to find and when I do find them, they often have a huge American flag on the package (like peanut butter does) forever branding me as American. I don't care in this instance. Barbecue-curry-Oriental does not work with guacamole. I also drink tap water (gasp!) and order it in a restaurant (double gasp! Faux pas!) It's just NOT done. But it is inexpensive and to be honest, after eating all those flavors of chips, I need some water to get rid of this hideous taste in my mouth.

6. I say "Excuse me" when I want someone's attention or when I want to move through a big crowd. It's a habit I can't break. I mean, I say it in German, but for Germans, it's the equivalent of apologising for some wrong I've committed. The waitress and the college boys in the crowd alike look at me like I've said something wrong. I think I'm supposed to say the equivalent of "please" to the waitress and "Be careful, look out" to the heavy crowd. But it's more natural for me to say "Excuse me" and it just keeps popping out of my mouth. Maybe I should give the safety thing a try- "Excuse me, I'm an American, can I get more water please?"


So there you have it. I'm sure there are a thousand more small things and I'll keep thinking of them. But this nice long post should make up for the lack of October posting (due to visits from 3/4 of the grandparents, lovely and wonderful, a trip to Disney Paris, rainy and wonderful, and school vacation (busy and wonderful). No worries- the end of October and beginning of November are rich with events about which I can write. And now, off to walk, in flat shoes, to the shops to find plain chips and peanut butter.