The bad and ugly part

Every once and awhile, I have moments where I want to run home and never come back here. It usually comes after a series of misunderstandings or negative experiences on otherwise hard days. So is life in a foreign country sometimes, and this post is to be taken with a grain of salt. I really don’t hate the Germans or think they are all like the few I am about to describe in not so flattering terms. Promise.

So anyway, on Wednesday evening I was riding my bike home as usual when I crossed the street with maybe a little less attention than I should have. I looked up to see a Hummer lumbering toward me. A Hummer. Such a vehicle looks like a dinosaur on the streets of Berlin, where Smart Cars and Minis are like ants at a picnic. Had I not paused with my chin literally on my chest, I probably would have made it across without disrupting its progress and therefore ruining the occupants’ day. Because I did, the driver unfortunately may have had to touch his brake. Fear of getting flattened roused me out of my shock, and I scooted out of the way. It wasn’t fast enough, I guess, because out of the window, one of the male passengers yelled something that had the root word “schlampe.” It didn’t matter that I didn’t catch the prefix. I understood what that meant. What I don’t understand is why impeding their progress for two seconds makes me a “whore.”

Then yesterday afternoon, I was on my way to meet a friend at a market, again on my bike. I paused at a red light in front of construction blocking the way I thought I was supposed to go. Maybe I didn’t jump on my seat fast enough when the light turned green. Maybe I exuded “I am a stupid American.” Maybe the guy was having a bad day. I don’t know. But for some reason, the man behind me on his bike began to yell at me, and continued to follow me yelling for three blocks. I’m not kidding. I finally turned around and flashed him a peace sign – the only nice thing I could think of that he would understand. “Ja, ja,” he said, and finally turned down another street.

I arrived to find my friend had her own set of similar experiences in the same time frame.

Seriously, I don’t understand why people here express such anger here for such minor infractions. If you cross the street right after the light turns red, they will blaze on their horn. If you take too long to bag your groceries, they will loudly complain. If you bring your water bottle back to the wrong place for recycling, they will bring it to you and explain in four different ways for about ten minutes in a high-pitched dramatic voice that you have done it wrong. Good grief. Ausruhen Sie sich bitte!

Okay, now I’m venting and unfairly generalizing. I’ll stop.

Like I wrote when I was in Japan, I get one tantrum. So this was it.

Lessons learned: Act quickly and correctly, otherwise be chastised.