Friday, October 22, 2010

some strange, strange different things in Germany.

Oooo boy howdy. What a week. It's honestly weeks like this one that remind me of why I should not be let out in public unsupervised. Hell, I should not be let out in public supervised. Especially in a place like Germany. Sheesh.

One of the great things about learning German in Germany is the fact that there are certain social constructs that you just can't duplicate in the classroom. While a professor in the states can say "in Germany, they do things this way, don't do this" I think advice like that is best stored in the long-term memory bank when you're actually here, screwing up royally. Let's discuss.

I'm still baffled by what I'm about to type. It just doesn't make sense to me. Wednesday, Brice and John came over because the Heimbar in my building was having a BBQ/drink fest for the new students who had just moved in. As a side note, most of the dorm complexes through the university have a bar. I'm lucky enough to live in the same building as mine, so three nights a week, I don't get to go to bed until 2:00 a.m. Germans like to party. LATE. Like super late. When I get invited out, they don't actually go out until midnight. Like they get started at midnight (not they are at home prefunking and then go out at midnight). I can't get used to it. I'm an old lady for crying out loud! I'm in bed by 2 at the latest. Some of the clubs here stay open until 7. 7 a.m.! WTF???

I digress. So anyway, Brice and John came over and we ventured downstairs. First off, they had whiskey. Granted it was Jim Bean, I was not going to be particular about the type of whiskey I imbibed because I was so freaking excited to actually see whiskey. The kicker: a double shot with coke was 1,50 euro. 1,50! I think we can all see where this is going....

So yes, I got a little inebriated. Not freak out, throw up pass out inebriated, but just drunk enough that I was super, super friendly with everyone we met. It's always a good way for me to make friends. Never mind the language barrier; we all speak the international language of sloshed. We eventually left my heimbar and walked over to John's heimbar, which is actually on campus. There were tons more people there (but still cheap booze). We went downstairs where there was a dance floor and I started to get my groove on. They were playing some AWESOME music: old school J-Lo, Daddy Yankee, etc. Maaaybe they played the Macarena. And maybe I remembered how to dance it. And maybe all the Germans watched me for the dance moves. Maybe. I'm not going to confirm nor deny that this actually happened.

So here comes the interesting part. Despite the fact that Germans talk about sex non-stop; despite the fact that I have seen Germans having sex in public; despite the fact that Germans don't mind being naked all the time, they DO NOT grind on the dance floor. When Brice and I went out on the floor and started dancing, like Americans typically do at a club playing hip hop and rap, we got some of the dirtiest stares. Like we were sacrificing children or bunny rabbits right in the middle of the dance floor. I looked around and it appeared as though all the other Germans dancing had at least a foot between them.

You've got to be kidding me, Germany.

You have no problem with public sex or talking about sex all the time, but heaven FORBID you grind on the dance floor. God might smite you right there!

A girl I had met earlier in the night came up to the two of us later and said that we must be very good friends, implying that we were a couple. I laughed and told her we just dance like that in America. She looked shocked. She then told me that I was a very powerful woman. Which made me laugh even harder. I think this is why German women wear obscenely large heels when they go out dancing--they are not actually dancing. They are just moving back and forth a foot away from their respective dance partner.

In other news, yesterday we went to the grand opening of the new mall in Saarbruecken. The funny thing is that this mall is just a big collection of the stores that already exist along the Bahnhofstrasse. So this makes 3 H&Ms in Saarbruecken, all within a two mile radius of each other. But they did have a Fossil stores, which made me super excited because I needed a new pair of sunglasses. I didn't actually find a *cheap* pair of sunglasses, but I did find a new wallet, which is awesome because I've been carrying my money and credit cards around in a pencil bag. As I was going to check out, one of the gentlemen working there came up to me and started talking to me. I'm a somewhat friendly person, so I started talking with him. I introduced myself, because it seemed like the nice thing to do, and he brought me a free canvas bag and a tin. Score! He also told me his last name and where he lived. All right... As we were leaving the store, Brice was just shaking his head. When I asked him what the problem was, he told me that in Germany, people are not so friendly with the salespeople.

"He's totally expecting you to look him up in his city."

"What? No. I was just being nice!"

"No, you were flirting. People in Germany don't make friends with their salespeople. They go in, buy their stuff and leave. They especially don't ask for their names."

"Well I do! We had like a five minute conversation--it seemed like the polite thing to do! And I got a free bag out of it, so whatever."

Kind of makes me wonder how many salespeople in this city think I am hitting on them. This would explain why the people who work at the bakeries and stores I frequent are always super nice to me. Either they are happy to see someone smiling or wearing colors, or they are expecting me to take them to a nice dinner and have sex with them later.

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