October was a month of change—Truly from the first day until the last with the start of German Uni. The month started with my friends from the first phase of my program leaving Bremen for a new city. All but me and another girl left Bremen and then 4 new people came. This month was a little like the roller coasters at the huge, traditional Bremen festival Freimarkt—One moment things were up and literally 30 seconds later they could be careening downward in a mass full of frustrated and explosive inertia.
To the neutral observer, I am living the post-college dream--Move to another country for a while, meet new people and most importantly procrastinate becoming an adult. I will admit, I'm pretty dang lucky, and I am living a dream. For a long time going overseas was in the back of my brain. So yes, I am undisputedly lucky, but there is no denying, though, that any post-grad is going to have tough times being away from home, friends and adjusting in general. When I was excitedly planning on ditchin’ the US, I did not fully appreciate what it means to leave college friends. I now understand what you can never truly grasp when you’re still with your friends—When you are no longer in college, you will miss your friends, and you will be surprised in how many ways. Add an Atlantic Ocean and you’ve got yourself a challenge.
Through the last two months something very interesting had been missing from my thoughts and feelings—the feeling of being foreign. October changed that. Because Uni Bremen didn’t start until the last week of October so I took another language class. Unlike my CASA language classes, in this class I was one of only three Americans. This had an interesting effect on me. In class I was surrounded by young people from all over Europe—from Slovenia to Norway. All these people come from different cultures and customs, but they have something I do not have: They are Europeans. Sure, each European country is vastly different, but they are still Europeans, just like Germans. I, however, am not. I can never be a European; it’s impossible. All of sudden the missing thought hit—I am foreign. I am not German and I’m not even European. This means I am perhaps the most foreign person in the class. If I think of myself as foreign, then surely everyone I have met already considers me that. I think about all the exchange students from high school and college and realize I am that new person that everyone knows is foreign and probably calls “the exchange student,” without really remembering the actual name.
Perhaps being foreign is not important to some people, but I think it is important here. Sure, if I wanted I could move to Germany, find work, improve my painfully obvious American accent (I’d be rich if I had a dime for every time someone says to me, “You’re American right? I could tell by the accent.”) and integrate. But the “foreigner” title is something harder to shake. At the beginning of October I watch Turkish dance at a Turkish appreciation event in the middle of the city. By the end of their exhibition at least 9 members from the audience were up on the stage dancing with the girls. Integration is a very big theme in Germany and much of Europe. Along with the expectation of integration comes the question of how much of one's own culture one should give up. As I watched the dancers and audience members I felt like it was a special moment. These girls were doing something special from their culture, but sharing it with the community. In return, the audience embraced their contribution and joined in with their own version. This really made me think about my own integration in Germany. In an earlier post I talked about if an American could ever be German, but now I’m wondering how much an American should want to be completely German. Despite the negative things said and assumed about Americans in much of world, don’t we have valuable parts of our culture that should be preserved? I definitely think we do. I am a foreigner, but that might not always be a bad thing.
During the month of October I spent a lot of time in my own head and had conflicting feelings about my own national identity and adjusting to German culture. Even though I’ve been here for over 100 days now, I know that I experienced more culture shock in October than before. It’s an interesting feeling thinking constantly about a language, trying constantly to blend in and finally realizing that where you are is not your home. Sure, it’s a home for now, but how can one feel at home when she simultaneously feels so foreign?
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