Alice in Germany

I arrive in Europe days before bird flu, but as I am escaping the new ‘every school must have a working flag pole and teach values’ Australia I figure I’ll take my chances. Patriotism and dictated values have never really been my thing. Time to broaden my horizons, embrace another culture etc etc. All very well and good in theory, in practise the first thing I do on arrival in Germany is track down the local English speaking club. Oh, who am I trying to kid – I found it on the internet well before I left home.

In my defence I know barely a word of German and know only two people in the whole country. Bruno, my ‘very German’ boyfriend, and Marianne who I sat next to on the 12 hour flight from Ho Chi Minh city to Paris. Poor Marianne brushed her teeth with the water in Vietnam and was vomiting all over the place as the plane landed in the City of Love. That was my first trip Germany. We’ve been friends ever since. But I transgress.

Now I am coming to Germany to build some semblance of a life. I want friends and I figure a common language will fasten the process. Yes I am well aware most people at ‘le club of English’ will very likely be older than my mother. But quite frankly I often prefer the company of ‘baby boomers’. I love talking about how much better the world used to be - that is before my ‘politically apathetic’ generation reached adulthood. No, really I do.

I arrive at the designated meeting point. The room has been double booked so we have to forgo the lecture and adjourn to the Irish pub. Fantastic. As it turns out most members of ‘the club’ are German. Great, a chance to meet the locals. The normal meeting is re-scheduled to next Monday.

Monday arrives, the room is booked and I eagerly prepare for ‘the real thing’. Sure I know it will be a tad more formal, maybe a lecture and then a group discussion. Should be fun, just like my old university tutorials, full of novel ideas and stimulating debate (well how I would have liked my university tutorials to be).

An elderly Irish lady has chosen an Irish short story to share with us. Fantastic. Time to embrace my Irish heritage.

Wait ... before we start they’ll just pass around this English grammar test to be corrected at the end of the night. Just for fun. It’s from a magazine article entitled something along the lines of ‘common grammatical mistakes made by stupid Americans’. Ha ha, everyone shares a knowing chuckle. It seems to be a widely accepted fact that nothing unites nationalities faster than a little laugh at the Americans. I’m not really sure why this is, but that is another blog entirely.

I sneak a nervous glance at my grammar test while hiding behind my nervous twitter. Can I face the humiliation of fitting straight into the ‘stupid American’ (read: ‘Australian’ or better still ‘native English speaker’) category in front of my new (and only) German friends? In a matter of hours I will be exposed for the intellectual fraud I am. Yes I come from an English speaking country where not only was I not taught a second language but I also never learnt grammar.

To be honest the Irish story is a little long but funny and quite entertaining. Ok time for discussion.

Oh .... no wait ... what’s she doing? Oh alright there is another story.

My attention is beginning to wane. She speaks quietly and I strain to hear. But I think I pick up the general gist – enough to get by in the group discussion. 20 minutes later the story concludes.

No .... she can’t be .... yes she is .... we are now pushing the one hour mark and she has a third story.

I do not attempt to pay attention. I prefer to read one story and digest it. Think about it. Discuss it. Take something away from it.

By the end I am exhausted. Is this because, while I like to think of myself as relatively intelligent (or at least able to appreciate intelligence in others), I am actually the intellectual equivalent of a mouse with the attention span of a gold fish? No I think not - I arrived at 7.45 pm and it is now nearing 10 pm and I have been sitting for the entirety.

But I can not go to bed yet, I have forgotten the grammar test correction. I cleverly hold my paper so as to shield it from potential prying eyes while stealthily glancing at my neighbours answers. I, who abhor cheating, have been reduced to this, just for the sake of maintaining the respect of a few flegling friendships. I think I managed to nod knowingly after each correct answer is given, while all hopes of being able to teach English slide under the door with the last shreds of my self confidence.

Heated discussion regarding the correct position of ‘with’ in sentence structure follow me out the door.

# posted by Alice in Germany @ 2:01 pm