Earlier in my stay in Tasmania I asked Nate to give me an idea for a story to write because I needed a creative outlet. He was super inventive and said "an American in Germany at christmas time". Great, I told him I couldn't write anything for that. On our car ride back from Burnie to Sheffield though an idea did come to mind, which I then wrote as well as possible before the six hour long power out. This story you can read below. It is short and in a way funny.
As we finished the Montezuma Falls walk today I thought I would show you some pictures of what we got our shoes and feet wet and dirty for. It was definitely beautiful and after all our trail led us to the highest and longest suspension bridge of Tasmania and the state's highest waterfall with 104 meters. It was a truly beautiful spot and the fizzy rain didn't bother us at all.
Apart from this I walked through knee deep water to and back from Neckisland which is about a half hour each way and gets pretty exhausting after a while. I also took a few Japanese lessons last night from an overnight living room guest and can now impress by saying: "Hello, my name is Emma. I am a Samurai. My birthday is today. I like Japan. Are you hungry? Yes, I am hungry. This tastes nice. Where is the bathroom? Thank you. Good night." I am absolutely obsessed with these few sentences and have memorized them all :) Aligato, Hiro.
Please do take your time to read below unless you really are absolutely not interested. It's a nice little story.
Otherwise: Oasemi, (Good night.)
Skipper
As soon as the plane touched down he had taken his scarf off. Germany wasn’t so cold after all, at least compared to where he just came from. Also, as soon as the plane touched down nervousness had overcome him. Although there really was no reason for it, he had at least three days left until Marei was to arrive. Yet, he felt unsettled and had a huge pit in his stomach. Since the hotel he checked into was in no way special he decided to explore town and that way distract himself.
Walking over the cobble stone streets and past all the closely cuddled houses he felt like in one of those old towns featured on winter puzzles, winter picture books, children’s stories and what not. Most houses appeared like they had been standing in the same spot for ages and the roads were so narrow that he thanked God for not having to drive. The town folk should thank him, too, for not having to drive. It would be their houses and their children he would be running over.
As he got closer to the town centre, where his hotel should have been in the first place, he encountered more people. All of them were wrapped in thick coats, scarves, hats, gloves and any other piece of fabric they could fit on their body plus bags over bags of presents. In between their woolen attire he could see red noses poking out. Everyone of them was in a hurry to buy christmas presents or at least escape the cold as quickly as possible. Yet he was still convinced that they were exaggerating the cold! It wasn’t even raining not to think about snow! According to his German sources it rarely really snowed in winter and he could only imagine the depression of any sleigh vendor. Maybe they should move to a northern US state, or even Canada! Then again the competition would be rougher there. If he hadn’t been so jet lagged he might have even done some Christmas shopping himself, after all there was a whole family he didn’t know to gift.
In hindsight it was a good choice to return to the hotel that first day and not worry about shopping in any sort of flawed condition. He realized that when undertaking the task the following day, as he certainly could never do this for enjoyment. Christmas shopping wouldn’t be done for relaxation in any country but in the US at least you headed into a huge mall containing anything your (or your family’s) heart might wish for. It was just one mall. In, get lost, get rammed, race to the cashier, turn your credit card into debt, out again. Here everyone had to go by foot to start with. No one could get a car park anywhere close to twenty minutes from the town centre except for those that must have arrived at five in the morning to secure one. Then once the shop owners unlocked their door everyone started hustling through the streets on the quest to reach five to ten different stores all scattered across the city. Get rammed by people, trip on the cobble stones, squeeze in through a door, die of heat, take off 15 pieces of clothing, struggle holding everything with just two hands, struggle not to knock anything off the shelves with everything you hold in your hands, ask the cashier to pull out your wallet and the money by themselves because you can’t even see your hands anymore, take a few minutes wondering wether you should have the presents wrapped or put in the effort yourself, squeeze out through the door, put on 15 pieces of clothing while dropping at least two presents into the mud, hurry along the streets, get rammed by people, trip, squeeze in, die, take off, struggle, struggle some more, ask for help, make a difficult decision, squeeze out, well and so forth. Not to forget that before this one has to draw out a map of the fastest way to get done all shops in one day.
With a hammering head he sat down in a small cafe to do just that. He had grabbed a street map at the hotel and took at least seven minutes to spot his current location. Then of course he needed assistance on where to find what he was after: kid’s toys, books, perfume, one or two nice bottles, above average soaps... all those typical presents. One wouldn’t say he wasn’t prepared as of course his suitcase almost crossed the weight limit due to American specialties for curious Germans. Still, one present per person just didn’t seem enough. When asking for directions he noticed how utterly confused everyone became when he approached them for more than just the bill.
In general everyone seemed (pleasantly) surprised by his missing reserve. Literally each person he wished a happy christmas narrowed their brows for such a long time that they didn’t even get the chance to answer him. He noticed this especially with old people. By the looks they gave him upon greeting them they must be having a heart attack because of his politeness. This led to the conclusion that old Germans were terribly unloved. No wonder the were always in such grumpy moods.
Despite all of it he felt like he belonged in Germany. After all every second person he got into a conversation with let him know that “Kuhrt is e jermen name, or?”. Since once they warmed up to him being so forward they tended to be talkative alright! He also found that he quite liked Germany, its people and the way they spoke. Though Marei hated the German accent and was embarrassed by the citizens of her country, he found it pretty cute. After all his German wasn’t the yellow of the egg either, as they said here. Now that he was here, however, he used most opportunities to practice it. Like in the bakery in the morning. Marei had told him so many times about how amazing German bread was that he needed to taste it. When he caught the bread ladies attention he lent over the counter and tried his best accent.
“Hat ik bitta eina Kilo Brott.” With a broad smile he lent back and saw her amusement. “War richtig?”
“Fast.”, she answered, though he didn’t know wether he could say it any faster. Before he could she told him the sentence again. “Ich hätte gerne ein Kilo Brot, bitte.”
“Ah, great” For future usage he did his best to memorize the pronunciation until he noticed her expectant face.
“Yoo reely vant e killo bred?”, she asked friendly and his smile broadened seeing how they connected over their horrible accents.
“No, I just didn’t know how to say anything else.” In the end he left the bakery carrying a Struselbrotschen, which she suggested him. Admittedly he hadn’t been out for anything sweet as breakfast but it still tasted great and as an American he was pretty much required to like anything containing the tiniest bit of sugar.
While passing a guy polishing a stain on his car he swallowed the bite in his mouth.
“Itch mak dieser Ohto.” After the usual pause of confusion the man called after him “Danke”.
It was about late afternoon when Kurt’s phone rang. He was just packing up his things to move to Marei’s family’s house. So far he had stayed in a hotel just in case his girlfriend came home early and found his things laying around before he had the chance to decently surprise her.
“Hey, Kurt.”, he heard her sister’s voice through the cheap prepaid phone.
“Hey, Karen. What’s up?” However much he enjoyed the German accent it was a pleasure to speak to someone who felt a little more confident with his language.
“Well, actually Marei called and she has more work than we thought. So, she is returning in the evening on Christmas.”
“Oh.”, was all he managed to say in that moment as he didn’t want his disappointment to show through. “What’s the plan then?”, he asked.
“However you want. You can come anytime.” Hearing the smile through her voice made it impossible to be mad at her. Why would he, as it wasn’t the bearer of bad news to blame.
“How about I arrive early on Christmas so I can, like, help with preparations?”
“Of course.”
When they hung up he couldn’t help feeling upset. Yes, he had arrived early so he could explore her home town on his own for a little bit and then be able to spend all his time with her... well, with her. So he wouldn’t have to bother about certain activities to do and just go with the flow. Now his time with her was cut! Which it wasn’t her fault either. It was her job that held her up and they obviously didn’t know and probably didn’t care he was surprising her. To be quite honest he wasn’t really upset even but as a good American he at least had to make a drama of it for himself and cuss the situation out. Thinking about it he should probably limit this behavior. Simply because they took everything so bloody serious here. Like that one time when he complained about his sir loin steak being nothing like the American one. Obviously because they pretty much invented it - just like French fries and hamburgers - but he was kidding. Just that his waiter didn’t go well with irony and stared at him in utter shock and completely out of words in how to make up for their mistake. Kurt quickly dissolved the situation and explained that he was joking and compensated the poor man with a nice tip (after all he was a generous American). In that moment he did feel terribly sorry but thinking back he had to chuckle slightly.
At least Karen had a few tips for him on what to do and so the evening drew him towards the Christmas market which apparently was very famous and popular. Frankly he had to say he loved it. The people were so much more relaxed than during the day and everyone was strolling through the stalls taking in the sight of all those crafted goods, having a sausage at the corner, wash it down with mulled wine and have chocolate covered fruit as dessert. He bought himself a bag of roast almonds and popped one into his mouth every once in a while as he was inspecting every stall he passed. This was certainly something you would do hard to find in the US and a great place to get souvenirs for his own family back home. Surely his mother would find delight in self made wind chimes and his father would love a stylish stone cigar holder. Over all he just enjoyed seeing Germans enjoy themselves which he hadn’t had the chance to do until this point.
His next day was the last one before Marei would arrive and he would celebrate Christmas with a family completely strange to him. In a daring mood he ventured back to the city and back to the shops and found that the city was busier than ever. Obviously the last day before Christmas would be a huge disaster. Surprisingly he found though that he himself still felt incredibly relaxed as he took his time to avoid running present hunters and ducked into shop entries when he saw a thorough crowd of people advancing in his direction. This way he saw the shops in a new light. With a grin he entered the shop New Yorker interested in how they would portray the American style and found that it was mostly very skanky or hip hop style clothing. Peacefully he wandered into the underwear section and wondered how Marei would react upon receiving lingerie. One set really attracted his attention as it was bright red and bordered in white fluff which supposedly looked like christmassy underwear. Again a chuckle left his lips. The Germans were kinky and a little dirty after all. Naturally they could allow it in this situation since they sold this sort of merchandise under an American name.
“Kann ich Ihnen behilflich sein?” The female voice approached him from the side and with a highly red innocent looking face he turned to her.
“Umm, nein.”, he said quickly and raised his eyebrows as if he had gotten lost into this part of the store. Did underwear really just embarrass him? Was he being germanized? Taken aback the lady’s gaze followed him as he hurried away. It was time to give another steak a try anyways and this time he wasn’t even fake disappointed. Frankly he didn’t dare to be remembering his last experience. Yet, he was not granted full enjoyment of the meal. His darned phone rang again and once more it was Marei’s sister.
“Kurt, where are you?” Now it was him to be taken aback seeing how ungerman it was not to great the other person.
“In the city, I just had lunch.” Silence on the other end.
“Okay. When do you want to come? Marei will be here in a few hours.” He froze in the middle of his movement. How could he forget? Shops were closing early today not because it was the weekend but because it was Christmas Eve. Germans celebrated Christmas on Christmas Eve. Today. So much for helping with preparations. As fast as he could he left the restaurant, after throwing a note on the table which provided his waiter with a beautiful Christmas tip. By the time he reached the town house which was his destination it was already twilight and he had trouble not to be overwhelmed by the whole gathered family. Everyone beside Marei fortunately. The way he had expected there wasn’t much left to do for him so after being handed from one person to the next to become acquainted he was designated to entertain Karen’s son.
“Wenn du also meine Tante heiratest, die Mamas Schwester ist, bist du mein Onkel?”, the little one said in such a speed that he literally understood no word of it. To be on the safe side he said “No.”
“Yes.”, Karen whispered as she was passing by and he corrected into: “Yes.”
As time passed Kurt really wished he could have taken on a different task as the boy knew no dots and commas.
“Und mein Drache vom Adventskalender ist schwarz und richtig gefährlich und zum Glück ist der Zauberer, der ein Zauberschwert, ein Zauberschild und Powerblitze hat, ein Drachenflüsterer und dadurch ist er noch stärker, weil er einen Drachen an seiner Seite hat. Richtig cool!” All he understood was Power and cool and so he simply nodded, before he knelt down in front of the boy.
“Listen, partner. I promised Marei I would practice German and, like, I did, pinky promise. But I am just no lingual expert, no American is really, and so I might not be as great as she expects me to be. How about we make a deal, that you tell her we had some great conversations going on and that you speak, like, very easy German around me, so that I can at least understand a child?” With the broadest smile he could fine he extended his hand towards him. For a few seconds the younger one eyeballed him with a blank stare.
“Kommst du vom Nordpol?” Kurt was certain they were going to be great friends.
Time was leading up to dinner and sure enough a car pulled up in front of the house. Everyone inside turned into hustling ants. After all he wasn’t the only one who hadn’t seen Marei in a while. His job wasn’t to great her at the door though. Hearing high women’s voices screeching and people hugging, laughing and kissing each other, he placed a wrapping paper hat on his head, which Marei’s mother had made for him. Germans knew at least where to keep presents and so he crouched down next to all the gifts beneath the tree and waited anxiously, hoping that she wouldn’t be disappointed by the poor wrapping of her present.
