You're my best friend

Friend.

There is a word you won't hear much in Germany.

I was hanging out with a German colleague that I have known for years. We have traded stories together, thrown parties together, gone to restaurants together, gotten drunk together, shared cabs together, recommended movies, beer, food, car purchases... I've even watched his little kids grow up during the random times he brings them by the workplace for the last 5 years. As I try to speak German, he tries to speak English. That way we honor each other's native language and try out new sentences in our broken speech. You know, all the things that friends do.

Comparatively, in the US you would call us good friends. I might even garner the honorary title of 'uncle' to his kids. (My parents always had three or four 'uncles' at any given time that the kids had to call uncle-this and uncle-that, and they were never related to us.) Then I made the mistake one day of referring to him as my friend.

"No. Not 'Friends'. Only 'Bekannt'."

Then I got the lecture explaining that any good German will only have 3 or 4 'friends' in their lifetime. The title of "Friend" is something that also needs to be agreed upon by both parties and there must be some sort of super-secret-hand-shake-oath where one swears to call every christmas and easter, attend every confirmation communion, plan funerals of who ever dies first and take care of the wife and children after they are gone. It's the Sicilian equivalent of being 'made' by a mafioso Godfather. "We are not friends. We are only bekannt."

Bekannt. Common, familiar, known.

Actually this is true to some extent. For years now, I have never been invited over to his home (or any other colleagues' homes). We just work together. And come to think of it, my wife and I are kept at arm's length from many native Germans who are nice enough of the surface but tend to keep to themselves when it comes to things other than the random get-together.

Armed with this new info, I asked a few other German 'friends' about our 'friendship' and got the same answer each time. Some even went so far as to say that 'friends' are reserved for native born Germans, which touches upon the deep seeded roots of racism being tied in with tradition.

Conversely, it seems that every English speaker I know becomes instant friends with me because we are in this strangely oppressive society searching for familiarity.

Buying a Cola

Be warned. In the US when you order a Coke, Soda, or Pop with your meal you get a large glass with ice, a straw, unlimited refills and a smile. Not so in Germany.

Be prepared to get yours in a small warm bottle. If the waitress is on the ball she will usually set a glass down in front of you, take the 0.2 liter coke bottle and turn it upside down with a quick twist and fill the glass for you very unceremoniously. Then you will watch as your hopes of tasting those fantastic bubbles get doused as they fill up the top of the wide glass like a foamy head of beer and fizzle away into the atmosphere. This not only takes the rest of the fizz out of a warm soda, it erases all hopes of getting a 'taste of home' as you sit in a foreign place.

Word to the wise: Just order a beer. Soda costs twice as much per ounce (or cubic equivalent) and you will garner less stares if you are drinking a local brew.

Introduction

Ever notice how an animal stares down it's prey? Or how an interrogation officer looks you in the eye for weaknesses? In Germany this is common practice. Walking down the street you gather stares from people in their windows, people sitting at cafés, people walking the other direction. In many societies this is seen as offensive, rude, belligerent, defiant or even inhuman- but not in Germany. What are they staring at? Is something wrong with me? Do I stare back?

Most stares coming your way are harmless, like someone watching a mildly interesting tv program. But sometimes they just grate at your soul and you are shocked into some sort of defensive reaction. Don't stare at me!

In this blog we will explore the many differences between Germans and the rest of the world. These subtle, strange differences don't show up in tour books or first encounters but they lie under the surface like an iceberg's jagged edges waiting to skewer the unsuspecting "Ausländer".