Riding the Culture Shock Waves

As I'm looking back at the past two posts, it seems like I am all doom and gloom with a pessimistic attitude.  While I'd be lying if I said I was a bundle of sunshine all the time and didn't admit to some moments of homesickness, or days when I idealize everything about home, I am liking Germany so far.  All of that other emotional instability is just a part of the transition.

Culture shock is always a big part of pre-departure discussions when you study abroad, and for good reason.  It is a real thing, and very few are immune to its effects.  You have to be prepared for it to hit, and ready to work through it or you will very quickly become disillusioned with your current situation.

Since I have uprooted my life a time or two before, I know myself and how I react in these types of situations.  They always say that culture shock (AKA, mild depression characterized by rose-colored lenses toward anything and everything related to home) hits you about a month in.  I am unusual in that it hits me almost immediately, and usually resolves itself within the first 2-3 weeks.  Usually the best cure, at least in my experience is to stay as busy as possible, develop some sort of routine, and find friends.

The routine aspect is set.  During the week, my days are spoken for from 7 AM to 5 PM, with some free time in the late morning/afternoon.  Evenings and weekends are my own.

The harder part has been making friends.  I'm a fairly outgoing and friendly person when I need to be, but when 80% of your time is spent with a family and your knowledge of a county's language is absolutely minimal it's a bit difficult.  You have to get creative.

Not that I am letting this get me down.  It's character building for me to be content with just me, gives me time to write, and is allowing me to get to know this family more quickly.  I also will be starting a language class in November, which should open up my social circle quite a bit.

And in the meantime, I am lucky that another girl who I went to Valpo with is in a similar situation as an au pair in France.  So, this coming weekend, we are headed over to Munich for Oktoberfest, and then the weekend following we are meeting up in Paris for an event called Nuit Blanche.  And thus my European tour will officially begin!

I truly am enjoying Germany, despite the waves of homesickness.  Each day is a learning experience, and I'm learning patience (people tell me that's a virtue...still think it's overrated) as I deal with the frustration of being immersed in a new language daily.  Grocery shopping takes about three times as long as it should, and I get lost all the time.  But each day I do a little better than before, and that's all anyone can really ask for, right?  And I truly am learning the language more quickly than I would have thought was possible.  If you really want to learn a new language, immersion is the answer.

Kornwestheim is so stereotypically quaintly European that I love just wandering around.  There are enough cafés to occupy my coffee obsession and give me somewhere to go and hang out on weekend.  Still need to check out the gelato place, though..

Anyway, here are some photos that I took around town on Sunday.  Enjoy! Auf wiedersehen!

The streets of downtown Kornwestheim.  It is not fun to navigate a van through there.

My home for the next year! Quite nice, eh?

My current favorite cafe.  I'm going to write the next great American novel here.  

German Cars Drink Diesel Fuel

If there's a certain amount of poor luck or errors guaranteed to happen in any given situation in life, then I hope I knocked out most of mine for the coming year in one fell swoop.

In less than a week, I succeeded in sabotaging one of the most expensive items in any household: the family vehicle.  In this case, that vehicle is a 2008 Volkswagen conversion van (see photo below...I'm working on improving our relationship).  I should also mention that this car is terrifying to drive through narrow European streets.  While it's turning radius is actually quite good considering its size, I still feel like I am going to run over something or somebody before the year is out.  There have already been a lot of near misses with birds.  I guess that's better than dogs or small children, though.

Now, before anyone gets too concerned, know that no one was harmed during this incident, and the van was back in commission by the end of the day.  Though it did cost 800 euro to resolve the issue, plus the cost of the rental car (it was a BMW, and was a delight to drive.  But I probably would have had a speeding ticket if we kept it for too long, so it's good that it was only in my possession for about three hours).

Anyway, it was my very first Tuesday morning here in Germany.  I successfully readied the kids for school and drove them to school without getting lost or causing an accident in the process.  I was feeling pretty confident and happy in my situation.  The sun was shining, birds were singing, I was on the edge of joining them in my own terrible rendition of "The Sound of Music."  Nothing was going to bring me down.

Then I saw that the gas gauge was just about on "E".  So, on the way back to the house, I pulled into a gas station for what I figured would be a ten to fifteen minute errand tops.  I was mistaken.

First of all, it took me about 20 minutes to locate the gas cap in the first place.  For future reference to anyone who may ever find themselves in a similar situation, for whatever reason, it is located in between the driver's door and the left passenger door.  To access it, both doors must be open.  There must be a serious gas siphoning issue in Germany.  Once I finally had that open, I searched for a way to pay, since that's how we do things in America.  However, in Germany (or at least at this particular gas station), there are no automatic prepay machines at the pump.  So I went inside, where a very confused, but fairly attractive young German lad told me that I pay AFTER I fuel up.  He also offered to pump the gas for me.  I politely declined.  In hindsight, I should have taken him up on that offer.

So, I went back to the pump, filled up the tank with regular gas, paid, flirted with that boy a little bit, and headed back to the house.  All was right in the world.

For about ten minutes.

Then the engine shut off, and started flashing that scary exclamation point in a triangle sign and I coasted it to the side of the road and threw on the hazards.  I tried to start the car twice, but when it kept not catching, I got out and began to evaluate my situation.

I was about 3-4 miles away from the house, so walking was a possibility if all else failed.  However, I knew that the car wasn't parked legally, and didn't want it to be towed by the time I found help.  I also did not have a working cell phone at the time since my German SIM card was taking its sweet time arriving.    So, I began walking around talking to strangers and trying to find someone who knew enough English to lend me their phone or point me in the direction of a phone.  Luckily, an older German lady took pity on me fairly quickly and sent me off in the direction of a kindergarten school.  I burst into the office, and started frantically explaining my situation to the lady in there.  The poor women didn't know much English, but she let me use the phone ("My English is not well but you can use the telephone.  It seems important.").  I reached Nicole right away, and walked back to the car.  While I waited for her to arrive, I started reading the manual (well, as much as I could, as it was all in German...).

On a bad hunch, I hopped out of the car and opened the gas cap again.  My siblings and I had always asked my dad what would happen if we ever put regular gas in our 1999 Cadillac DeVille, which likes premium.  He always just responded with, "Something more expensive than paying for the right fuel."  Sure enough, this was a DIESEL van.

If I was the crying type, I probably would have started weeping right then and there.  However, I retained my composure because if I let myself start crying, I wouldn't have been able to stop.  I probably would have been begging to get back on the next plane to Chicago had I moved into hysterics.

Thankfully, Nicole was quite kind and understanding about the entire situation.  I think she shared in on some of the blame with me; I hadn't thought to ask what kind of fuel it took, and she hadn't thought to tell me (though I guess if I had read the sticker in the first place...).  Still, it was a rather tense couple of hours until we learned that the car (or, the bus, as the family refers to it) was fully functional after having the fuel lines flushed out and the filter replaced.  It was an expensive fix, but nothing that would break the bank and much cheaper than having the entire fuel system and engine replaced would cost (which was what google scared us with).

So, all in all, not one of my better days.  But at least no one was hurt and there was no lasting damage of any sort done.  And if that's the worst thing that happens the entire time that I am here, I will count myself lucky.  Does this count as a cultural difference?  I told Nicole that she needs an insurance policy that covers the ignorance of American Au Pairs.  Or, this could have been a common sense issue specific to me.  Oh, well.  What's done is done, and this is one mistake I will never make again.

Anyway, that's all for now. Hopefully next time there will be no more drama!  Tschus!

Paleo is Not a Thing in Germany

My first weekend in Kornwestheim has revealed that at least two German stereotypes are true: (1)The chocolate is out of this world.  (2)Bread is the foundation of a German diet.

Now, for those of you who know me well, (as well as those of you who just stumbled onto my latest fixation), in LA, I (stereotypically, I know) developed a preoccupation with health and fitness.  This led to a Crossfit obsession (those of you anywhere near Orland should join this gym) and a fairly strict adherence to the paleolithic eating pattern (notice that I didn't use the curse word, "diet," it's supposed to be a lifestyle change).  Anyway, without going into all the details and getting on my nutritional high horse, for paleo, you essentially eliminate grains from your food pyramid and replace them with copious amounts of vegetables.  You also eat lots of meat, eggs and healthy fats (avocado, coconut, butter), while keeping sweets to a minimum (I ate a LOT of dark chocolate).

This was a way of living that I enjoyed as I could eat almost as much as I wanted while watching my physique lean out quickly.  It's very easy to follow and maintain when you're in charge of buying and preparing all your food.  I walked to Trader Joe's almost every day and bought fresh and frozen veggies and chicken and pork and beef.  My roommate thought I was nuts, but his idea of a balanced meal is either In 'n Out, McDonald's, or Taco Bell so I didn't take his opinion on that particular subject very seriously (sorry, Hunter).

But now, here in Germany, that lifestyle is not really possible.  There's a bakery on every street corner, pasta and bread (and sometimes both) are the centerpiece of every meal, and I don't want to be rude (at least not yet) and eat on my own rather than with the family.

I also think that this could be a good thing.  The will teach me portion control; the entire family is quite lean so carbs can't be QUITE as bad as I believe they are.  However, I reserve the right to gorge myself on broccoli, green beans, and asparagus whenever my heart desires it.

And, the "worst" case scenario is that I spend a year eating ungodly amounts of bread in a country with unparalleled rolls (maybe France will compete once I get there...), and then go back to the states and find the quality to be lacking and never want to eat it again.  I can be paleo in America and a carb fanatic in Germany.  Though there are many benefits to the good old US of A, have to hand quality breads to the Germans.

And chocolate.  Can't forget the chocolate.  I will definitely be visiting the Ritter Sport Factory while I am here.  Hopefully they give out better samples than the Cadbury Chocolate Factory in Dunedin does, though...

Here's a photo of Maja and I. She's turning eight next week. In the words of a friend of mine, I am "already teaching her to be a lady."

Heading to Deutschland

So here I am, stepping back into the world of blogging to chronicle my latest adventures and latest questionable life decisions.

First of all, I should set some context for those of you who stumble upon here.  I am a 23-year-old recent graduate from Valparaiso University.  I earned a Bachelor of Arts in English and Humanities.  If you try to tell me that it's a useless degree, I will disagree because I have to.  And also because it does leave your options open; there are a lot of different directions career-wise that you could go; they just all require some creativity.  This is an issue for another day, as I could argue the merits and drawbacks of graduating with an arts degree for ages.

Anyway, I exited university armed with my degree, an internship for Conan O'Brien in Los Angeles, and a semester abroad at the University of Otago in Dunedin New Zealand (for all the exciting details about the best six months of my life, see the sidebar to your right, and click on "IFSA-Butler New Zealand Blog").  And thus I began (along with thousands of my peers in the class of 2013) the tedious process of applying for nearly every job that I was even remotely qualified for (and some that I wasn't).
I received a few offers; one as an English teacher in Beijing, a teacher in Florida, and various dull, marketing and sales positions that I could have been hired for without a college degree.  And many, many rejections.  However, since all but one rejection was based solely off of my resume, I didn't take most of it too personally.

And then there was one rejection that I DID take personally.  A certain company (which shall remain nameless, for the moment...) put me through a string of personality tests and writing samples and phone interviews before finally inviting me to an on-site interview, complete with more personality tests, writing samples, and discussions with various members within the company.  The position was as a technical writer for a software company; far from ideal, but at least it was writing and there were some nice benefits and a good paycheck accompanying it.  I thought I had it; all the interviews went well, and I know that I am a talented writer.  I even went so far as to start looking at apartments in the area and looking into buying a car.  I succeeded in really convincing myself that this was what I wanted; the beginnings of a solid career in something and a settled life.  I had already done New Zealand and Los Angeles; two amazing opportunities that most people will never experience in their lives.  I thought it was time for me to behave and act like a responsible human being.

For better or worse, there was another plan in the cards for me.  At the very end of the interview process, I was discarded along with countless other applicants.  It came as a huge shock; I was back to square one.  The settled life that I had been painting vanished before my eyes, and in a fit of rage, I began applying for jobs all over the world.

But everything happens for a reason.  The night before I received the pitying phone call where I was told that the company was "moving forward with other applicants," I had been watching Midnight in Paris and felt a pang of regret that there was no way that I would be doing a tour of Europe (or any other foreign country) anytime in the foreseeable future.  Two weeks of freedom from work goes fast in the adult world.  I applied for all sorts of jobs, but the ones that ended up biting were from families looking for an educated au pair (basically, a live-in nanny) for their children.

And so it ended up that I accepted a position with a family in Stuttgart, Germany.  To the surprise of everyone (including myself), I am forsaking a job in the real world and the beginnings of a career for a sort of sabbatical in Europe.

To be fair, it's not an entirely selfish and irrational move though.  One of my potential career aspirations (aside from becoming the next Stephen King or J.K. Rowling, of course...) is to work in International Education and/or a study abroad program so I can help more students to have that same life-changing experience that I was lucky enough to have in New Zealand.

Here's to hoping that Germany offers some of the same benefits!  I'm less nervous about this than I was before New Zealand, but I actually think that this may be more challenging in some respects.  The language barrier and the lack of a built-in peer group to begin with may make my social life rather absent to begin with at first, but I am looking forward to rising tot he challenge.  After all, I'm going to Europe.  The entire world is at my feet and I cannot wait to see what's in store next.

Below is my one and only tattoo...apparently it's a self-fulfilling prophecy. Bonus points for whomever knows where the quite comes from...