Oktoberfest--More than the pints.

I don't think I've laughed so hard in months.  My muscles actually hurt throughout the Oktoberfest weekend.  We started laughing right from the beginning of our expedition to Oktoberfest this past weekend.  Right from the arrival in Munich when we started talking about coiffed and uncoiffed arm hair until the last day when Morgan (one of my travel-mates) got evidence of me sleep-talking, we laughed.  A good travel group is one of the most important aspects of travel to me, and for Oktoberfest Weekend, I was fortunate enough to have the wonderful travel group of Morgan, Alex and Isabel.

Last time I was in Europe (for my semester in Ireland), I did not really have any desire to go to Oktoberfest.  This time, though, the opportunity was too perfect to say no to.  Alex's aunt lives in Munich so we had free accommodations and with the knowledge that this could be my only, easy opportunity to get to Oktoberfest, I knew I had to go.  I made the right decision.

We arrived Friday afternoon to beautiful, almost-summer like weather.  After we settled into Alex's aunt's apartment, we set back out for some site seeing with our tour guide (Alex's aunt).  The weather was perfect for some gorgeous, crystal clear views of Munich.  Munich is the third largest city in Germany and it certainly feels larger than Bremen.  Whereas Bremen only has a street tram and buses (which are very good), Munich has a subway owned by the city, another subway owned by the German train company, street trams and buses.  Like Hamburg, though, despite its size and my disorientation, Munich felt relatively cozy and friendly.  Getting a taste of a new city made me a little envious that I will only be experiencing one city in depth this year, while most of the others in my program will experience two.  I am not sad, however, that I get to deal with northern Germany prices all year.  Munich is quite southern in Germany and as one travels further south, the prices increase noticeably.  Add a huge tourism event, such as Oktoberfest, and you definitely get price inflation.

On Saturday, we rose early to experience all things "traditionally Munich." Before we left the apartment, Alex's aunt prepared us a common Bavarian breakfast for a good "Grundlage," or basis, in our stomachs.  As I have mentioned before, bratwurst is a very popular food in Germany and even though many Germans will argue that Bavaria is not really part of Germany (it did once want to secede, after all), bratwurst is also popular in Bavaria.  However, the bratwurst here is called "Weißwurst," or white-wurst.  This type of bratwurst is made of veal instead of the commonly used pork and has a milder taste than most wursts.  Served along with it, though, is a very special type of mustard that has a distinctly sweet taste.  I have never, ever, been someone who likes mustard and if it weren't for the fear of appearing rude, I probably would never have tried it this time either.  I did try it, though, and it was surprisingly delicious.  Some people really do not like Weißwurst, which I find slightly surprising.  Historically, I have been a fairly picky eater so I am always so surprised when I like something that other people don't--I kind of figure if I like, everyone must!  Weißwurst is proving me wrong.  Along with our Weißwurst we also ate pretzels.  Of all the seemingly weird things Americans eat for breakfast (need I mention bacon, cinnamon rolls, pancakes, etc?), I do not think I'd ever think to eat pretzels.  That's obviously because big, soft, salty pretzels are not as beloved as they are here in Germany, but particularly in Bavaria.  Alex's aunt said that anywhere further of northern Bavaria you can't find a proper pretzel.  All I have to say to that is Hmph.  I like the pretzels in Bremen.  Another funny thing about breakfast was our (the American's) idea to put Nutella on our pretzels, obviously to simulate a chocolate covered pretzel.  Alex's aunt found this idea just ridiculous, which I found a bit ridiculous myself!  Germany is a country that loves chocolate and loves pretzels and bread--why not combine the two delicacies?  Clearly my misunderstanding shows the American in me.

After our very substantial "Grundlage," we headed to the Wiesn (which means meadow in German), where Oktoberfest is.  I would absolutely recommend Oktoberfest to any traveler, whether he/she enjoys beer or not.  There are so many people from all over this world at this 200-year-old festival and the people watching was tremendously entertaining.  Oktoberfest, to my surprise, is not just the brewery tents, but actually an enormous fair that someone can enjoy without ever sipping on a giant beer.  As an additional note, the so-called "tents" are about as opposite from tents as you can get.  They are actually firmly established buildings that have been elaborately decorated and crammed with tables and benches.  The only resemblance these buildings, which were built two months ago (they aren't there the rest of the year!), have to tents are the the draped fabric hanging from the ceiling within.  

We attended Oktoberfest on the first day and therefore we got to see the parade of brewers and the official opening ceremonies of Oktoberfest.  Before 12 pm on Saturday absolutely no one could have a beer because the first keg had not been tapped.  At exactly 12 pm the first keg was tapped, the first Maß (the name of the giant pint glasses) was poured and canon shots were fired to tell everyone they could officially being to drink.  After walking around for a while and enjoying some candied almonds (the smell is intoxicating), we settled in the Paulaner tent for the rest of the day.  I was very surprised around 10:30 pm when everyone left and the servers began to clean up the tent.  I asked Alex's aunt why Oktoberfest closes so early and the answer makes a lot of sense.  Munich does not want a bunch of people who are unfamiliar with the city to be wandering around in the wee-hours of the morning.  Even though the tents would earn so much more money if they stayed open late, they very logically close early to keep people safe and encourage people to stop drinking.  I was actually quite surprised and impressed with the safety measures of Oktoberfest.  In addition to the early closing time, in order to order beer you must have a spot at a table and you absolutely cannot leave the tent with any beer in your hand.  With these sort of safety measures it makes sense why Oktoberfest has become something little three- and four-year-olds can take field trips to with their Kindergartens--because it really is not just about the beer.

On Sunday we woke up to heavy rain, but we still made the best of the day and saw the Olympic Stadiums from the 1972 Olympics and later the Nymphenburg Palace and its beautiful gardens.  We also saw where Alex is going to live when he moves in Munich this weekend.  Munich really is a beautiful city and despite my two previous visits, it's a place very much worth visiting more than once.

On Monday we revisited Oktoberfest and reluctantly left in the afternoon for our 5 hour train ride back to Bremen.  Despite wanting to stay longer, it was good to leave when we did, but we all left with laughs still bubbling out of us and the feeling that Oktoberfest should happen every weekend.  The combination of a hilarious travel group, endless new people to meet, wonderful hospitality from Alex's aunt and a lovely city, Munich left us not with the taste for beer, but rather the taste for more travel to Germany's beautiful cities and more incredibly cool and historic festivals.

I don't know Dutch, but I know it sounds funny.

           The other day a friend in my group made the comment that she had a very busy weekend and was very tired.   She said to me, “I don’t know how you guys do it, you’re always doing something.”  This is actually relatively true.  “I couldn’t do it,” she continued.  “I don’t have the energy.”  This got me thinking, how do we keep up our relatively busy pace?  The other day as I munched on some sort of sugar, the answer hit me: Sugar.  I have never been someone with an iron-will against sugar and I also seem to be gifted with the talent of finding sugar wherever I go, often for free.  Some people might call this mooching, but I know it’s not—I’m simply opportunistic. 

            I made it through college without becoming addicted to caffeine and I didn’t even drink that much soda.  Looking back on these days (which are so far gone…) I realize that the same chemical compound kept me going through those days too.  At Elon, I had Student Union Board to fuel my growing sugar addiction.  The SUB office was a wonderful room full of distractions from homework, lack of productivity and most importantly, sweets or candy.   Unfortunately, in Germany there are not as many opportunities for free sugar, but there sure are lots of delicious and inexpensive candy bars.  And when a scoop of Italian gelato is only .80 Euros, how can I not want two or three?  Additionally, I receive a food stipend from the PPP program, so really, all of it kind of is free. 

            Anyway, last Friday morning, a group of my friends and I took a train to Amsterdam, not knowing what amazing sugary treat was waiting for us there.  When we arrived in Amsterdam Isabel met us at the train station (she left the day before) and introduced us to stroopwaffels.  Stroopwaffels are two sugary flat waffle cookies held together by sticky syrup, honey and cinnamon.  The result is one of the most flavorful cookies I have ever had.  My grandfather had a saying for something you instantly want more of:  “It has a more-ish taste.”  Stroopwaffels define this expression.  I had found my sugar supply.

            Later that day we took a tour through Amsterdam.  For the next three hours we were guided through Amsterdam’s narrow streets, canal system and Red Light District.  Before we began our tour guide warned us about Amsterdam’s pick-pocketers and the even more foreboding bicyclists.   For anyone that has been to Europe, you are probably familiar with the bike lanes that run parallel to the sidewalks.  They may only be distinguished by a different pattern or color of stones, but crossing over that fine line is essentially risking your life.  If you are in the way of a bicyclist, they do not do the logical thing and slow down.  No, instead they ring their little bell as if it had some sort of mighty, magical power.  These bells might be ordinary pieces of metal, but the Power of the Bell is real.  When I hear a bell my heart beat spikes and I literally jump out of the bike lane.  Bicyclists do not mess around and therefore I don’t either.   Well, before we set off for the tour, our tour guide had one little piece of advice regarding bicyclists:  Get out of their way; they have all the trump cards.  No more than five minutes later we were walking through a street, I was looking up at a building, my view was obscured by the people in front of me and what happens?  I’m hit by a bike.  No fear, nothing too scary, but really, what better way to look like a tourist than ignore what your tour guide tells you not to do.  Classic tourist behavior.  Go me. 

            OK, moving on. 

Amsterdam is one seriously cool city.  Most people know it as a city that has legalized prostitution and decriminalized marijuana, but it goes without saying that there is so much more.  Amsterdam was hardly physically damaged in the world wars and therefore its architecture is very well preserved.  Looking down an Amsterdam street, one cannot help but notice that the buildings are either crooked, lopsided or leaning into the street.  Of course the buildings weren’t built that way, but Amsterdam is below sea level, so the ground is very soft.  While this might be a perpetual problem for the city, it’s pretty fun to feel like you’re in a Disney-created, Harry Potter-esque world.  Adding to the mystique of the city is how high and narrow the buildings are.  Historically, the city determined property tax by how wide, not tall, the buildings were.  This instantly explains why all the buildings are only four windows wide at a maximum, but five or six stories high. 

            Another highlight of the weekend was becoming one of the thousands of people who take their picture with the “I AMsterdam” sign.  This sign has not always been a part of the Amsterdam cityscape.  Five or so years ago the city wanted to alter its image from a city of prostitution and pot to one of culture and history—both of which of course existed before the liberalization of the city in the 1950s and 60s.   The result was the “I AMsterdam” concept as a spinoff of “I <3 New York.”  After a relatively low-budget campaign, the concept took off.  So much so that I first saw this sign in the Amstel Light commercials while watching the Red Sox on TV in New Hampshire.  Another fun fact:  The Netherlands once controlled New York City, but gave it to the English in exchange for the tiny country of Suriname in South America.  Hindsight is always 20/20.

            Since I know food is sometimes more interesting than history, I’ll share a little about Dutch food.  There is not actually an overly large variety of exclusively Dutch food, but Amsterdam has tons of international food offerings.  The Dutch are particularly fond of Indonesian food, which we had for dinner on Friday.  The Netherlands does have a particular type of fast food that is special, such as “bitterballen,” croquetes and French fries with peanut sauce.  Croquetes and bitterballen are essentially the same food, just in a different shape:  Both contain gravy and shredded meat and are deep-fried.  Additionally, stroopwafels are not the Dutch people’s only outlet for sugar:  They (especially children) eat white bread with butter and chocolate sprinkles for breakfast.  Of course, we, as tourists, were not above trying this interesting breakfast concept.  So, how’d it taste?  Let me put it this way: If it were more socially acceptable to eat refined flour, covered with full-fat cream and an ice cream topping for breakfast, I’d do it. 

            Amsterdam is one of the those cities that you think you only need a couple of days for, but when you leave you realize how much more you wanted to see.  Never the less, late Sunday evening we arrived back in Bremen, satisfied and sugar-loaded.  The trip to Amsterdam was the first trip out of Germany I’ve had since arriving and it felt so strange to succumb to speaking English and not feel guilty (96 percent of Dutch people speak English). 

Now, however, as I write this ridiculously long post (thanks for reading! J ), I’m on the go again.  I’m on the train towards Munich for a new adventure and new form of sugar:  Oktoberfest.  This weekend might be absent of cake, stroopwaffels and chocolate sprinkles, but considering carbs technically are sugars, I don’t think my blood sugar will droop too low.  J

Seven Things I Find Amusing

Being an American in Germany can sometimes be a very, very funny experience.  Being new, the past month has had countless introductions.  More than once I have left these introductions smiling to myself because of something the other person said, usually about who "We Americans Are."  Sometimes the comments are thought provoking, but most of the time they are silly and light-hearted.  Here are my favorite direct and subliminal comments I have heard and/or noticed about America:

1.  "Americans eat a lot of steak."  Since arriving in Germany I have not eaten a single piece of steak, but I sure have heard a lot about how much steak Americans supposedly eat.  Perhaps I brought this upon myself because during my first night with my host family my host mother asked me what my favorite meals are.  Considering I'm more of a sweets-fanatic, I did not have a prepared answered.  Instead I answered simply, like a good, meat-eating, red-blooded American: "Steak."  I don't think my host parents were surprised.  This past Saturday we were again, for some reason, talking about steak and I felt the need to defend America's steak consumption.  I explained that I don't miss steak very much because my family eats more chicken than steak.  I tried to emphasize that chicken is our more commonly eaten meat and that we really do not eat burgers and hot dogs for every meal.  My host mother then countered that my family is "not a normal American family." From this I'm lead to believe that my American family is far from normal because we have a white-meat and red-meat diet.  This just tickles me, but it's also not the end of my steak conversations.  On Sunday, I went to an outdoor art show with my host mother.  While we were there we ate grilled bratwursts and cake (OK, really, Germany? And you're making assumptions about MY food??)  and talked with some of the other women there.  One woman was from the Philippines, but has lived in Germany for many years.  When she learned that I am American, literally the first thing she said to me was, "Oh, Americans, you eat a lot of steak!"  Cue the ever-safe smile and nod.

2.  "Meaghan Britain from America."  I am making an assumption here, but it seems uncommon in Germany for someone to have a last name that relates to their family origin.  This of course is not true in America, and I am living proof.  I support my point further by pointing out that in my high school there were also Englands and Irelands.  Anyway, more than once when I have introduced myself I have heard the line, "Oh, Meaghan Britain from America."  Yes, that's right, I'm American, but actually English and Irish.  Is that a problem?  Just like the steak comments, these comments just tickle me.

3.  Fear of peanut butter.  Perhaps one of the most internationally loved exports of Germany is the delicious chocolate Nutella, which is labeled with the wonderful euphemism "hazelnut spread."  Come on, Germany, who are you fooling?  One look at the brown goo and it screams "chocolate."  I know chocolate when I taste it and I'm officially calling you out.  A few of my friends and I have become quite spirited when we talk about Nutella because it is definitely the German's peanut butter, and yet many Germans treat peanut butter as if it were radio active.  I haven't had peanut butter in over a month and I miss it.  It's not that you can't buy it here, but whoever heard of the supposedly "Made in America"  Alwood brand of peanut butter?  That's just not JIF and choosey moms would not choose Alwood.  When I told my host mother about peanut butter and jelly sandwiches she asked me if they were for breakfast.  I supposed that would be a logical guess, but I laughed and explained that no, we eat the sugary combination for lunch.  Her retort was, "If you eat too much sugar you're going to have to go the dentist."  If you eat too much Nutella you're going to have to go the dentist too.

4.  English is cool.  I can definitely see the logic behind this thought--In the US it is also really cool to know another language.  Growing up speaking English, though, it is sometimes a strange idea to think of my language as cool.  When I'm struggling to learn a new German past tense passive form I get a certain amount of perverse pleasure to think of how hard and random English pronunciations are, but I certainly have never thought of it as cool.  On Friday, I went to Viertel Fest, a music street festival.  After one of the (amazing) acts, the singers told the crowd it was someone's birthday.  Just as I was gearing up to sing "Happy Birthday" in German, the crowd broke out into a jubilant English "Happy Birthday."  This made me a little sad.  It is so interesting that here it is generally considered cool to know English.  Even more surprising to me was that many of the German bands at Viertel Fest sang in English.

5.  "American girls have really high voices."  I do not remember where I heard this comical misconception, but all I have to say in response is, NO.  This is just not true.  It is possible an American said this, but I still strongly disagree.

6.  Food packaging with the Stars and Stripes.  What better way to sell a construed American image than by selling already prepared hamburgers, sesame seed bun and all, packaged and ready to be eaten.  There are many different products that sport the Stars and Strips, such as the peanut butter jars.  The most amusing and blatant message, however, was the hamburgers.  If you're wondering how I feel about this, please refer to 1.  I think international food sales could be a good testing ground for the success of subliminal messages.  I'd be interested to meet the type of person who likes these burgers...

The next one is easily my favorite:

7.  "All Americans are good at volleyball."  If I am meant to be a representative of American young adults and what a typical American is like, the previous statement would be proven false in every way possible.  Not only am I a terrible athlete, but I also hate volleyball.  Yes, I know roughly how to play it, but please, please don't ask me to play volleyball.  In high school gym class I felt like the volleyball unit was infinitely longer than the one unit I actually liked--badminton.  Badminton doesn't leave bruises on my arms and is a lot kinder to the less athletic among us.  When I have to play volleyball I feel like Princess Mia in "The Princess Diaries" when she has to play softball and she pleads to be excused, explaining that she is more the "yoga, rock-climbing type girl."  Really, I'd play a lot of things before volleyball--even frisbee.  The comment about volleyball is even funnier to me because my high school didn't even have a volleyball team.  Just as it's not fair to generalize the German culture, I also shouldn't speak for all America, but from my 22 years of experience, not all Americans can play volleyball and this one American certainly would prefer we never play volleyball.   

Can an American be a German?

Every American has probably been asked at some point, "What does it mean to be an American?" and the answer seems obvious enough.  I was asked this question just over the summer in a pre-departure assignment for CBYX/PPP.  It may come as no surprised to hear that it is proven people who live or study abroad learn more about their own culture than they ever would have otherwise.  Sometimes I feel very American, like I'm carrying a nationality sign around my neck.  Sometimes this is caused by my attire, especially when it rains and I'm wearing a brightly colored rain coat, rain boots and am the only person holding an umbrella that is not blue or black (mine is pink paisley).  Other times I find myself in the midst of Germans and wonder if my American-ness is obvious.  Last Tuesday, CASA hosted an American Evening for my group and we made American recipes, sang American songs and shared some of our comical misunderstandings.  During such times I often wonder, can I look like a German?  Could I be "German?"  What would it take?

These thoughts inevitably lead me to wonder when I will feel a part of the German society.  I can't really say what I think it will take for me to "be" German, and sometimes I'm still surprised that I'm even here. When I got here I imagine I oozed America like a shiny new penny.  With a month of experience under my belt, though, certain things have dissipated, but there are still other things I can't help but be partial to the American way, such as having lots of salads for lunch or something besides bread and marmalade for breakfast.  Or how our vanilla flavoring comes in convenient little bottles that are easy to pour, as opposed to the minuscule vials in Germany that refuse to release their contents in any amount that is anywhere close to how much I want to use.  I also haven't driven a car since July 26th and since then I can count on one hand how many times I've been in a car.  It is little things like that that remind me of my nationality.  I've always been a proponent of trying to be less ethno-centric, but I now remember that it is a different thing to be fond of and miss some little comforts from home, such as kitchens that hold more than 2 people, and being truly closed to other cultures.

Nevertheless, the adjustment is already well underway. For example, my first few days here I was constantly afraid the cars would hit the tram because the tram cuts right through the lanes of traffic.  The first couple of days I was convinced each and every car was inches from hitting the tram right where I was sitting.  I can confidentially say that this is no longer a daily fear. :)

To be perfectly honest, I have been slightly surprised about what gives me the feeling of "Yeah, I am supposed to be here."  The groundbreaking moment was a couple of Saturdays ago when I went with some friends to a Werder Bremen game, the beloved soccer team of Bremen.  My group of fellow PPPlers and I arrived at the game early to get tickets and in hopes of finding seats in the "Ost Kurve," or East Curve.  The East Curve is where all the big Werder fans stand, rally the other fans and generally try to intimidate the other team.  We did not get Ost Kurve seats, but we did get some spectacular seats in the West Kurve.  As we sat down, I looked around, found the Freiburg fans closed off in the "enemy section" and saw all the enthusiastic and excited Werder fans.  At that moment I realized I had something in common with almost every single person in the stadium--The simple wish that Werder would play a good game and even win.  I realized then something many foreigners before me have probably realized:  Sports have a powerful ability to bring people together, even across cultural borders.  Watching the game, besides being full of action and eight collective goals, was entirely satisfying and enjoyable.  It was my first moment of realizing that, yes, one day I may feel like a part of the German and Bremen culture.

That evening, Japanese students arrived to CASA, my language school.  My host family is hosting one and I had dinner with them and the student, Kazuki.  Within five minutes of meeting Kazuki, my host parents and I realized he knows little English and even less German.  I became his translator and through this, I realized that the best boast in confidence for a language learner is to live with someone who knows even less than you.  This sounds a bit heartless, but it certainly served to strengthen a growing idea: At some point in the year I will feel a part of the community.  For the first time, I had the indisputable feeling that learning German is something that I can actually achieve.

My friends and I have commented multiple times that sometimes we feel like a herd of sheep who are lost without our CASA shepherds.  More and more I find that I need my CASA shepherds less because I am slowly finding guidance in other facets, such as our speaking tandem partners that we met last week and my host parents, with whom I can speak more and more with.  I have even met a few of the other host parents and they have also proven to be extremely generous and helpful.  With the help of several different Germans I even succeeded in making a completely American birthday cake recipe using the metric system, no measuring spoons or cups and up until the last moment, no baking powder.  And just today I braved the previously unknown world of European Haircuts and went, all by my big-girl self, to get a haircut.  Forty-five minutes later, I left the salon sporting a slightly shorter hairstyle that still looked remarkably "me" and thankfully not a bit like some of the scarier haircuts I have come across. :)

I can only describe living in a foreign country as like being in a roller coaster.  Today attempting to get a haircut was like going up then down one of the smaller drops that, even though they're not particularly high, have a spectacular drop and add to the fun of a really great roller coaster.  More and more I find that things in Germany replace the little things that I didn't expect to miss from home and sometimes when I walk around Bremen I can convince myself that I look German.  Even so, I cannot currently answer my own question.  The jury is still out on whether an American can be quasi- or fully-German, but if the adaptation of the last  month is any indication, I think I can get used to living here.