Thursday 8 August 2013

Make me a German what?

Despite Gaia's assertion that I have 'reached the end of the road' with my blog, I plod on. Inspiring comments from other, more erudite readers urge me forward. So here goes. The other night, CG and I watched a TV programme. Nothing unusual in itself. The rather ambiguously named 'Make me a German' was about a Brit journalist and his half-German (yet non-German speaking) wife who decided to try out life as a typical German family for a while. (I say ambiguously as 'German' could mean a kind of cocktail, or beg the question a German what? Wouldn't 'Make me German' have been more appropriate?)

The next day's review in the Guardian neatly summed up the show's highs and lows - full of cliches and contrived situations. Father goes out to work on shop floor of successful but small, family-run pencil factory. Mother stays at home doing housework and looking after the children, one of which goes to a Waldkindergarten (in the forest) and gets to play and poo in the great outdoors. The parents have to eat a specified amount of pork and potatoes every week in order to match average German consumption thereof. Father gets ticked off for arriving late to work and for sending a text message during work hours. (We are told this is greatly in contrast to British office life, where people spend the whole afternoon on Facebook.) They get reprimanded by a neighbour for making too much noise on a Sunday. The same neighbour displays thinly-veiled racist tendencies towards the prominent Turkish population in the area. There was lots of hand-shaking, sausage eating, and all the shops were closed on Sundays - shock, horror. And so on, and so on. As is often the case with stereotypes, I was struck by the programme's ability to simultaneously hit the nail on the head and generate so prolifically. We asked ourselves: is life really that bad here?

British people make much of the numerous laws in Germany, and it is true, there are many. What is more, Germans tend to know of them, cite them word-for-word, and even obey them. However restrictive this may sound, I have yet to encounter a law that doesn't make sense in some way. To understand the most obscure ones has required intensive consideration at times, but I have always found the solution. And it really is better to do what the Germans do and toe the line. The irony of all this is that there remains here a sense of freedom, particularly with regard to children. The health and safety law epidemic gripping Britain has not reached the fatherland and hopefully never will. Young Germans are still free to roam the streets and climb trees and build dams in the river. The finger of blame would not be pointed at the parents or teacher if something were to happen (unless, of course, they were clearly to blame).

There is also a marked lack of materialism and consumerism here. Debt is not a desirable state to be in, and people do not mention their credit cards, if they even have one. Mortgages are seen as millstones, rather than milestones. It is cool to live within one's limits, unostentatiously, and respect the laws of the land and one's fellow man.

If it weren't for the odd occasion where Germans throw caution to the wind and/or sink gallons of beer and stand on the table singing, life here could be rather boring. But it isn't, and what's more, I think Britain is catching onto the fact that Germany gets quite a lot right and is not only a force to be reckoned with, but something to be envious of.

None of this means I wish I wasn't British. Oh no John no. I go about my ordered life and smile politely at all the remarks about British weather (rain), British food (fish and chips), the Royal family (Prince Charles' ears) and the British pound (no comment). But inwardly I relish the fact that I get to enjoy what Germany has to offer whilst knowing I am from a much cooler, quirkier place.



And the thought of living there again terrifies me.


PS: I write some of my most profound blog posts when I am supposed to be writing other profound things, and this is no exception. I now have five weeks to complete my master's thesis and progress is SLOW. Just let me clean out my kitchen cupboards and dust the skirting boards, then I'll get started...

No comments:

Post a Comment