Attitudes towards strangers

I went out for a ride the morning after arriving home for Christmas and was reminded immediately that I was here, and not in Germany.

I passed a jogger and she said good morning. I passed another rider and he waved. Strangers actually acknowledged my presence and were friendly.

This is something that puzzles me about Germany, at least where I am. I can walk down the street in the morning and pass people in the neighborhood, and it seems they make an effort to avoid eye contact or otherwise acknowledge I’m there.

It’s mostly the same when I pass other riders, although when I see another racer often a subtle nod is exchanged. Runners interestingly are a bit friendlier, sometimes actually speaking and saying “abend” (evening) or “morgen” (morning).

People have told me that Americans are generally more open and friendly than Germans. It’s not that people in Germany are unfriendly. Just recently I was having snow tires put on, and while waiting talked with a local guy who gave me his card and said to call if I ever wanted to go have a beer at the pub. Once people find out I’m from the U.S. they seem to become friendlier.

It’s the everyday encounters with strangers that often seem so remote and detached. To my sensibility it takes effort to be so detached.

I’ve heard it said that in contrast Americans may be more friendly but they are often superficially so. And that Germans tend to find this somewhat intrusive. This was given as one reason why Wal-Mart failed in Germany: people did not like the cheerful “greeters” at the door or the overly helpful salespeople.

I was in a store here in the U.S. just before Christmas, and suddenly became aware of the cashier’s “Hi how are you today” routine with everyone. She didn’t seem really interested – more of a habitual response.

Neither way seems particularly satisfying – forced remoteness or superficial friendliness. Perhaps I can be a rebel and follow the middle-way … being careful not to scare strangers in the neighborhood. I’m afraid they might think I’m like the eccentric guy I sometimes see outside the bakery who says random and unintelligible things to everyone who walks by.

Holiday travel torture

First off let me say that I feel fortunate to be traveling to Germany. If I didn’t have that opportunity I wouldn’t be in a position to complain about it.

I find the whole process of airline travel unpleasant. The longer flights to and from Germany make it more unpleasant, and the holiday time just makes it worse as everyone seems overloaded with the extra traffic, limited time, and general stress.

There’s traffic, parking, the security process, lateness of flights, anxiety over missing flights, bad food, surly airport people (employees and travelers).

For me it starts with trying to select the optimal seat that will result in no one sitting next to me. On a long flight, to me this is the key determination in my level of discomfort. There’s nothing worse than having someone next to you whose body is spilling over into your seat while you try to fit within the 12 inches they graciously give you.

I look at the seat map on-line, up to the day of the flight, and move my assignment if needed. I think I’ve got the system down pretty well. I’ve been lucky lately, which means I’ve also gotten spoiled.

This time I was all set to have an open seat next to me, maybe even the whole row. Then along came Mom, Dad, and teenage brother and sister, headed for my row. Dad and son took the row in front of me, leaving the middle open (nice for them), while Mom and daughter decided to sit with me. It could be worse, I thought, since they at least fit in their seats.

Then after we took off, Dad, sitting in front of me, jammed his seat back as far as it would go, leaving me no chance of working on my laptop. It was a rather comical sight: I was squeezed into a tiny little space while the family of four was spread out in relative comfort. They turned and chatted, passed treats back and forth, while I banged my knees against the seat in front of me.

The food was bad, the movies were bad, and a 2-year-old in the next row yelled most of the way. The only thing that saved me was my iPod. Thanks to my friend Tris for showing me how to download some nice live Grateful Dead shows from like 1968 -- fitting music to settle in for a long flight.

Arrival in the U.S. was like the last trip at Thanksgiving: crowds of hurried travelers and prison-guard-like security people.

When I was at about my most cynical, I received a present from a very nice Continental employee. She boxed up and checked a bottle of wine, bought at the airport in Germany, which the security people in Newark wouldn’t let through. My attitude changed completely. I didn’t even mind that the next flight was an hour late and jammed with people carrying too many carry-on items to fit in the available space.

Flat tire karma

Serious cyclists learn not talk about things like how long it’s been since you last had a flat tire. It’s a certain jinx. I don’t even like to think about it while out riding. Even thinking about it seems to bring on a flat.

And you don’t want to be tempting fate when it’s trying to prevent you from riding in the first place.

The day had started out with me slicing my lip somehow while shaving. I had to drive the whole way to work pressing a tissue on my lip to try to stop the bleeding. But then the sun came out, I had worked a lot the previous couple days, and I wanted to get in a ride before the 4:30PM darkness here.

Leaving work at 2:00 usually means no traffic. But this day, because I wanted to ride before dark, it was a mess. The last 2km to home took me 30 minutes because the bridge to Oberkassel was completely jammed with cars for reasons completely unknown.

I finally made it out on the road by 3:15, and thought I would just ride hard for what little time I had. Not too long into the ride I passed a guy who was changing a flat. He said something as I went by, which is unusual, so I turned and went back. His pump was not working, so I let him use mine. He was quite grateful.

I set off again, trying to calculate the route that would get me home before dark.

Then I made the mistake of thinking about helping the guy with the flat, and thinking that I had not had one flat tire in the 5 months I’d been in Germany. That’s a long time without a flat.

A couple miles later, I could feel my front tire getting soft. Since front flats don’t happen as often as rear flats, this particular wheel had not had a change in a very long time. As a result, the inner tube was fused to the tire, and I could not pull it loose. I had visions of walking home 10 miles in my bike shoes. That was enough to give me a Popeye-like burst of strength to pull the tube loose.

The tire was now deformed and had a flat spot I could feel on every rotation of the wheel. I hammered the rest of the way home, riding the last 10 or 15 minutes in the dark. Fortunately there was a bike path adjacent to the road, then streetlights close to home.

I’m going to carry 2 spare tubes with me for a while. As we know, these sorts of things happen in groups of three. Not that I’m superstitious or anything.

Low key Christmas

I miss being home at Christmas-time, but I’m also appreciating how Christmas is not so in-your-face as it is at home. People don’t go crazy with Christmas lights and decorations, every other TV commercial isn’t Christmas advertising, and I don’t hear Christmas carols everywhere I go.

The upside is that I don’t have that feeling of Christmas overload … 3 days post-Thanksgiving. The downside is that the general atmosphere doesn’t seem quite as festive as at home. If we could only turn down the volume a bit. Unfortunately that seems unlikely, since each year we feel we must do that little bit more than last year.

There is one phenomenon that is big here: the Christmas markets. People told me, “You have to visit the Christmas markets.” They were given such a build-up it was almost impossible not to be let down.

I’ve been to three different markets: here in Düsseldorf, in Köln, and in Aachen. The first two were so overwhelmingly crowded with people, and so underwhelming full of kitschy stuff to buy, that I wasn’t interested in seeing any more.

I was wondering what the attraction was, besides being an excuse to drink outside, eat ½ meter long bratwursts, and shop at times when stores are normally closed.

Then my friend from work invited me to go with him and his wife to Aachen, where his 3 children are at the university.

Aachen is a very cool, and very old, town near the border of Germany, Belgium, and the Netherlands (it has 3 names, in German, French, and Dutch). We got there early on Sunday, so the market was not very crowded at first. It was also the first day that it’s been cold here, so it actually felt like winter. We walked around, drank hot chocolate and spiced wine, and tried many of the food samples people were offering.

We later went to eat lunch at one of the many student hangouts, where you can get a pizza for 4 Euro or in my case a half chicken with frites and a salad for 4.80. My friend’s kids were there, and I worked hard to understand as they all spoke at their normal speed.

I found myself having a quite a good time. I realized what was different from the other markets: here, I was simply enjoying being with friends. And that I’m guessing is one of the big attractions to going to the Christmas markets.

Stau auf der Autobahn

Many people have asked me about driving on the Autobahn. Often people have this image of the Autobahn being a single 10-lane superhighway, with no speed limit, that cuts across the middle of Germany.

In actuality, it’s quite different. And right now, driving on the Autobahn is often completely absurd.

The Autobahn isn’t a single highway, but rather is a network of highways similar to the U.S. interstate highway system. It’s generally well-maintained, and there are frequent rest stops where you can buy gas as well as food (similar to what one finds on U.S. toll roads).

Yes, there are stretches of road where there is no speed limit. But these stretches don’t seem to last very long. It’s common to go from no speed limit down to 120km/h (about 75mph), then sometimes lower. Anywhere near a city there are usually speed limits of 80 -120km/h. Where I commonly drive, I rarely get to a stretch of road without limits.

Now for the absurdity of the situation.

The Autobahn seems to be operating near capacity in many places. That means even the smallest disturbance can cause a traffic stoppage. Driving home from the airport recently, we sat stopped in traffic for 30 minutes because a car was in the breakdown lane with a flat tire.

Because of the World Cup this summer, construction work was postponed until mid-July. It seems right now that every stretch of Autobahn is under construction. On one recent trip I started to keep track, and I did not go more than 40km on any stretch of Autobahn without going through a construction zone.

Rather than take away a lane of traffic, the construction zones generally have these insanely narrow lanes. I don’t think you could stick your elbow out an open window without hitting the car, or better yet truck, in the next lane.

A construction zone is a disturbance to the traffic flow. And because of the narrow lanes with no margin for error, they seem to often be the location of accidents. And that means monumental traffic jams.

I’ve learned a lot of German listening to the frequent traffic reports on the radio. A “Stau” is completely stopped traffic. “Stockender Verkehr” is literally stagnant traffic, also known as “stop and go” by one of the radio stations. Any weekday morning, there will be a list of at least 10 or more Staus or stockender Verkehr of 3km or more within a 40 mile radius. I’ve learned the words for: accident, detour, construction zone, wrong-way driver, lane closed, lane open, car on fire, Autobahn-completely-closed-because-of-accident-with-death-involved.

I’ve become a bit obsessed with listening to the traffic reports, because I just cannot stand to sit in traffic. On one 3 day driving trip for work, I swore I would never drive like that again, and would instead take the train and cabs even it if took longer. On that trip we heard a report of a 25km Stau (that’s over 15 miles) outside Munich.

Into this mix you can throw trucks that do not drive faster than 100km/h (62mph), even when they are passing another truck. There may be one truck going 98 with another passing at 100. A colleague at work says that is called an “elephant race”.

Because of all this, the absence of speed limits seems to have no effect on the overall travel time. You can drive 200km/h for stretches, but your average trip speed is the same as if you never exceeded100 km/h.

Unfortunately many of the German drivers don’t see it this way, and assert their right to drive as fast as they desire, whenever they desire. This seems to be particularly true for guys about my age in BMWs, Audis, Porsches, and Mercedes. They think nothing of continuing at 200km/h even though it is obvious just up ahead they will have to brake hard, which they do. Or they fly up the left lane then cut over 2 lanes just before their exit, where they have to jam on the brakes. I’m sure the auto workshops here do a great business in brake work.

If all of this sounds bad … well, it is. Actually it’s not a complete disaster. I do believe I’m much more aware of the traffic around me. And I’ve learned to always use my turn signals. That is just pure self-preservation.

Fast walking

You’d think that with all the bike riding I do, a little walking wouldn’t be a problem. My legs may be in great riding shape, but riding shape doesn’t translate to walking. Something about the specialization that comes from so much riding.

I learned this the hard way once, a number of years ago when we took the kids to Disney World. After spending the first day walking, I had to soak my legs in an ice bath because my calves were so sore. Since then I swore I would keep myself in reasonable walking shape.

As I’ve mentioned before, people walk a lot in Germany. It’s not unusual to walk several kilometers carrying groceries or shopping bags. I know I walk way more than when I’m home. The main reason is that things are actually within walking distance. I’m able to walk to the store, to restaurants, to get my hair cut.

Not only do people here walk a lot, they also walk fast. When my daughter was here for a visit, we noticed a woman in front of us on the sidewalk who was pulling away from us. She had at least 20 years on me. We tried to walk faster but still couldn’t keep up. My daughter blamed it on her open-back shoes until we noticed the woman’s shoes were similar.

I think that when you’re walking a couple km or more, you don’t always have time to go at a leisurely pace.

Without really thinking about it, I’ve been walking faster too. When everyone around you is walking fast, you naturally follow along. When my wife came to visit, she asked, “Why are you walking so fast?”

And then when I came home to visit, while shopping in the grocery store she said, “You’re doing that fast walking thing again.” I had started pushing the cart and quickly left her behind.

But I’m still not the fastest person on the sidewalk. I’ve been passed by elderly women carrying groceries. The other night a guy walked briskly by me, lighting a cigarette as he passed – and I was in a bit of a hurry.

There is something satisfying about transporting yourself under your own power, and walking is about as basic as you can get. The best thing about walking is walking to buy food or go out to eat. I always feel justified in getting just that little bit more.

Big in the U.S.

Everything seems bigger in the U.S.: bigger cars, roads, distances, meals.

Bigger people.

I hate to say that, but there is no denying it. I noticed it right away when I came home, and I notice the difference now that I am back in Germany again.

I’ve wondered why this is so. Curiously, I’ve been in several conversations where this topic has been brought up (and not by me).

When I came home for Thanksgiving, I was surprised to see that I’d not gained any weight since leaving in July.

First theory: people walk a lot more here. I know I walk a lot more. I walked home about 2 miles late one evening, behind a couple in their 60’s who covered the same distance at the same speed as me.

Yet at home we won’t even walk from the back row of the mall parking lot. Instead we drive around and around waiting for a space to open up. We are so used to driving right up to the door where we do any business (work, shopping, etc.)

In large part, I think this is an issue of convenience. In the U.S. it is convenient to drive and park, because we build these huge parking lots. In Germany, it is often so much of a hassle to park it’s easier to walk. Or when you do park, often it is still a long walk to get to where you’re going.

And then, I notice that going for a walk, in the evening or on a weekend afternoon, is simply a common thing to do.

Second theory: we just eat a lot. A couple weeks ago in the U.S. I was talking with a German guy who now lives in France. He said one difference is that where he lives, they typically eat a small breakfast, then nothing until lunch, and then a small dinner at 8 or 9 PM. They don’t eat in between.

As if his point needed further illustration, we were at a meeting where there was a constant flow of food: pastries in the morning, a large buffet lunch, cookies/cake/brownies in the afternoon.

Third theory: our junk food is really junky. McD, BK, Arby’s, etc. No more -- my dinner has not yet been digested.

The result: after 2 weeks at home I came back to Germany heavier than when I arrived. And this was in spite of the great weather and many miles on the bike.

Power of the familiar

After 2 weeks in the U.S., the sense of strangeness has worn off.

I notice how easy things seem here. I’m able to get in the car and drive without consulting a map. I know where to go without thinking about it. I speak without having to stop and think about what words to use.

The first few weeks in Germany – maybe even longer – everything felt difficult. Even the simplest things such as buying a loaf of bread seemed difficult. I felt lost most of the time and was constantly stopping to look at maps. This was at the same time stimulating and tiring.

The sense of the familiar seems quite powerful. I’ve come to the conclusion that becoming comfortable with living in Germany is a simple matter of time and exposure. There’s nothing magical about it.

It now feels odd to be going back to Germany, and I’m curious about how it will seem when I arrive.

For unknown reasons, my flight to Newark seems to be about the only flight out of Cleveland that is significantly delayed. Maybe because of weather problems elsewhere, but I also suspect that the airlines like to blame weather because then they are not responsible for finding another flight.

If I take the flight, it’s possible I will miss the connecting flight to Cologne. I think that no matter which decision I make it will be the wrong one. If I take the flight, I’ll probably miss the connection and have to spend the night in Newark. If I don’t take it, I’ll probably come home to find out they delayed the flight in Newark.

This is like always picking what seems to be the slowest line at the grocery store.

I decide the safest option is to reschedule the flight. Surprisingly it works out this time. The flight leaves over 5 hours late and misses the connection to Germany. I would have spent about 20 hours in Newark.

I’ve now got two extra days home. Unfortunately I think I’ve used up my one good decision outcome.