Friday, February 29, 2008

Driving in Germany, cont'd.

From an email from someone calling himself "the dumb American" (anything but):

Did you ever the hear the joke about the difference between heaven and hell? In heaven the French do the cooking, the Brits are the police, and the Germans make the cars. In hell, the Brits do the cooking, the French make the cars, and the Germans are the police.

Ha ha ha.

Well, maybe it's in the delivery....
----------end of email---------------

From this I conclude that I'm just one dinner of fish-and-chips away from hell...

Thursday, February 28, 2008

Driving in Germany

Just over a year ago I got my German driver's license. While this has certainly opened up many new opportunities for me to explore Germany, it has also opened up many new opportunities for me to get hopelessly lost. With a combination of luddism and masochism, I refuse to get a GPS system. Instead I putt around in my woe-fully underpowered Peugot 206 with a street atlas on the seat next to me. I call it my MPS - Map on the Passenger Seat. Sadly, map reading is somewhat difficult at 50 kmph, and last minute changes in road configuration can through my plans into disarray. For example, I have tried now without success 2 times to the find the Duisburg train station. The first time, I became hopelessly lost and eventually found my way out of the city. The second time, I because hopelessly lost, made an illegal left turn, and was immediately pulled over by a motorcycle cop.

Now, German police are professional, competent and... green. A fine, friendly, almost-Kelly green. And they drive station wagons. This makes them somehow less intimidating and more friendly to me than American police. Hopefully I will never be disabused of this notion. Anyway, this fine officer pulls me over and gives me a 10 Euro fine instead of the normal 30 Euro fine, paid immediately by debit card. Why did I get off so easily? Some possibilities my neighbors came up with:
  1. I speak German. You might not think this is charming, but most Americans I've met here speak almost none. He may have thought it nice to meet one who could abjectly apologize.
  2. I'm cute. I don't buy into this one; even had I been cute in the past, I'm well past 30, and my eyelash-batting days are over. The husband does get points for suggesting this one, though.
  3. I was polite. When I told this story to my neighbor, she was amazed. "You met him at the window with all your papers? You apologized?". Apparently, a German would more likely argue that the infraction was so insignificant, it doesn't deserve a ticket, and doesn't the officer have better things to do with his time, and no one was hurt/inconvenienced/made late by his actions...
You be the judge.

The first post: reporting from Germany

Welcome to my first foray into the 21st century. Allow me to bring you up to current events:
Just over 2 years ago we decided to up and move the family to Germany. Now we live just north of Düsseldof, are a half-hour away from my in-laws, and I've transformed from a working mom to a desperate Hausfrau. Why desperate? Read on...