I recently wrote a post about the hallo code. It's my attempt at understanding the nuances of when it's ok to be friendly in German culture.
But there's yet another dimension to the concept of the hallo code. From what I can tell, the word hallo may just have more meanings than any other word in the German language. Unlike the word schön, which means good/pretty/ok/nice/fine, the meanings of hallo are actually quite different from each other.
Let me attempt to explain:
Hallo = hello. You knew that already.
Hallo = are you paying attention? excuse me? With a little extra emphasis on the ooo, you can expect this from the cashier when you are texting in line at the grocery store and have reached the cash register. It's also a way for someone to tell you that something has fallen out of your pocket. It's what you say when you want to order a pizza and your waitress is busy talking on the phone.
Hallo = Hey, watch out! This comes from a cyclist who is getting no reaction after ringing his bell insistently at a pedestrian who has wandered into the bike path. You can also hear it from a driver who is angry at said cyclist for riding in the middle of the road because there are too many pedestrians in the bike path.
Hallo = Hey, everyone, all together! Pronounced 'HA lo-oooow!' This is what the announcer sings at the Hannover 96 soccer games when he wants everyone to sing the fight song.
Hallo = an angry way to say what the f*** are you doing? Pronounced 'ha LOOOOOW!' in a really loud and aggravated tone. This is what a cyclist shouts at another cyclist who almost causes an accident by riding her bike in the wrong direction on the bike path. This is also what the Hannover 96 fan yells at the fan behind him who has spilled beer on his head while singing the fight song. It's what the cashier says when the customer is still texting and has not responded to the first three hallos.
So I will wrap this post up with a pop quiz. Please fill in the blanks with the appropriate answer.
Question:
You are walking down the street and see a friend approaching. You say ___________ .
Excited to see her, you wander into the bike path in front of an oncoming cyclist. He says __________! Startled, you step backwards and a key falls out of your pocket. A passerby draws your points to it and says _____________ . Seized with team spirit, your friend wants to sing the Hannover 96 soccer fight song. She kicks it off with _______________ . Standing in the middle of the bike path, singing, dropping your belongings, oblivious to the world around you, everyone in the area joins together in yelling at you: ______________!
Answers: Hallo. To all of the above.
Friday, June 19, 2015
Tuesday, June 16, 2015
No place like...
I've been in Hannover for a while.
In fact, I have not left Germany since early March and that might just be a record. I find myself fantasizing about warm summer nights on the deck at the lake house (smacking mosquitoes in Wisconsin never sounded so nice). I long for old friends and corn on the cob. That's right - we are going back to the U.S. for four weeks this summer.
And the excitement about going home (though, as I have written before, that word is more complicated for me than it seems) has me thinking. Living in another country as an American is a little like seeing the wizard behind the curtain in Oz.
Remember Dorothy and the ruby shoes and her furry friend and metal friend and scratchy friend and her little dog too? Sometimes I feel a little like her, but without the cool shoes.
The U.S. has everything, or everything we think we'll ever need. We believe in it. It's huge and diverse and like a world in itself. We are taught that it's the best place in the great big world and everyone wants to live there.
When you come from the U.S., it's hard to imagine that people can get by on bicycles, with paid vacations, with public health insurance and coalition governments and no garbage disposals. It makes no sense that there are developed countries full of people who don't have closets and sleep peacefully on beds without springs. And that's just in northern Europe.
When I was living in the U.S., I didn't really know what it was like to live somewhere else. I didn't know what I was missing because hadn't quite left yet (caveat - for a signficant time, caveat - as an adult). Now I've had a chance to look behind the curtain. My blissful ignorance is gone. My experience is only in one foreign country in the great big world. It's enough to know there are other ways to go about living. They are better than The American Way, sometimes. Sometimes they are worse.
Now I also know that, no matter where I live, I can never have it all... at least not all at once.
Dorothy probably missed a lot in her quest to find the wizard. She could have hung out in Munchkinland for a while. She could have spent more time getting pampered in the Emerald City. She sure made some great friends, scratchy and furry and rusty ones. What if Dorothy saw that Wizard wasn't what she'd imagined, then shrugged and headed out to enjoy the rest of Oz? What if she looked around for a while before clicking those cool ruby shoes together?
In fact, I have not left Germany since early March and that might just be a record. I find myself fantasizing about warm summer nights on the deck at the lake house (smacking mosquitoes in Wisconsin never sounded so nice). I long for old friends and corn on the cob. That's right - we are going back to the U.S. for four weeks this summer.
And the excitement about going home (though, as I have written before, that word is more complicated for me than it seems) has me thinking. Living in another country as an American is a little like seeing the wizard behind the curtain in Oz.
Remember Dorothy and the ruby shoes and her furry friend and metal friend and scratchy friend and her little dog too? Sometimes I feel a little like her, but without the cool shoes.
The U.S. has everything, or everything we think we'll ever need. We believe in it. It's huge and diverse and like a world in itself. We are taught that it's the best place in the great big world and everyone wants to live there.
When you come from the U.S., it's hard to imagine that people can get by on bicycles, with paid vacations, with public health insurance and coalition governments and no garbage disposals. It makes no sense that there are developed countries full of people who don't have closets and sleep peacefully on beds without springs. And that's just in northern Europe.
When I was living in the U.S., I didn't really know what it was like to live somewhere else. I didn't know what I was missing because hadn't quite left yet (caveat - for a signficant time, caveat - as an adult). Now I've had a chance to look behind the curtain. My blissful ignorance is gone. My experience is only in one foreign country in the great big world. It's enough to know there are other ways to go about living. They are better than The American Way, sometimes. Sometimes they are worse.
Now I also know that, no matter where I live, I can never have it all... at least not all at once.
Dorothy probably missed a lot in her quest to find the wizard. She could have hung out in Munchkinland for a while. She could have spent more time getting pampered in the Emerald City. She sure made some great friends, scratchy and furry and rusty ones. What if Dorothy saw that Wizard wasn't what she'd imagined, then shrugged and headed out to enjoy the rest of Oz? What if she looked around for a while before clicking those cool ruby shoes together?
 |
| Definitely not in Kansas anymore |
Tuesday, June 9, 2015
New man in my life
There is a new man in my life. His name is Michael.
Before I tell you about Michael, I need to start with Will. He and I had a long relationship. It started when I lived in Minneapolis and I found him by mistake... or I guess you could call it fate.
He was super skinny and covered in tattoos. His tongue was pierced. Sometimes I didn't feel quite hip enough for him. He talked about bands and bars and trends I didn't know much about. But Will sat me down, put his skinny fingers in my hair, and knew just what to do.
The first time Will moved across town, I followed. Then the second time he moved I decided, with a heavy heart, to let him go. After a couple of rebound trims I moved to Germany and started three dark years of blunt cuts, too many layers, one-appointment stands all over Hannover.
I had almost gotten used to this lifestyle. I waited for months until split ends forced me to try out a fresh face and fresh pair of shears. Every time, I tried not to be disappointed.
Then I heard about Michael, and decided to meet him. I was a little nervous. I had even cut out a magazine picture and put it in my pocket, just in case. When Michael told me how much we needed to take off, my heart melted a little. When he started the razor cut, I swooned. I will be seeing him again.
Before I tell you about Michael, I need to start with Will. He and I had a long relationship. It started when I lived in Minneapolis and I found him by mistake... or I guess you could call it fate.
He was super skinny and covered in tattoos. His tongue was pierced. Sometimes I didn't feel quite hip enough for him. He talked about bands and bars and trends I didn't know much about. But Will sat me down, put his skinny fingers in my hair, and knew just what to do.
The first time Will moved across town, I followed. Then the second time he moved I decided, with a heavy heart, to let him go. After a couple of rebound trims I moved to Germany and started three dark years of blunt cuts, too many layers, one-appointment stands all over Hannover.
I had almost gotten used to this lifestyle. I waited for months until split ends forced me to try out a fresh face and fresh pair of shears. Every time, I tried not to be disappointed.
Then I heard about Michael, and decided to meet him. I was a little nervous. I had even cut out a magazine picture and put it in my pocket, just in case. When Michael told me how much we needed to take off, my heart melted a little. When he started the razor cut, I swooned. I will be seeing him again.
 |
| Of course the real man in my life, at a concert last Friday |
Sunday, June 7, 2015
The hallo code
Quiz question 1:
You are walking down the sidewalk, somewhere in Germany. Another pedestrian is walking toward you. Do you:
a) Smile and say hello (or hallo)
b) Look at your shoes and move on, frowning slightly
Quiz question 2:
You enter the waiting room at the dentist's office. Do you:
a) Quietly find a seat and pick up a magazine
b) Say a general hello (hallo) to all of our fellow patients before sitting down
If you answered a to both of these questions, you are a foreigner. You are probably from the Western Hemisphere. If you answered b or c, you are likely a German, or someone else from northern Europe.
I've mentioned before that Germans don't greet strangers, but it's not actually that simple. A German will talk to a stranger if they share something in common. It's a sort of hallo code. After 3 + years in Germany, I am just beginning to decipher how it works.
In anonymous places, there are no hallos. No one will give you more than a sneer on the street, in the grocery store, or on the bus. Usually they won't make eye contact at all. Germans must believe they have a superpower to become invisible. If you are not looking at the people around you, then they certainly cannot see you. Therefore, whatever you do, you can't be rude. If a new register opens up at the supermarket, it's ok to zoom forward from the back of the store and become the first person in line. Has your train arrived? It's ok to shove your way on before people have gotten off the train. Just don't look at anyone and your superpower is in full effect.
However, saying hello to people with some kind of shared experience is normal, and even expected.
You should say hello if you are joining a group waiting at the dentist's office or the hair salon. When an old lady greets everyone in the swimming pool locker room, you'd better smile and say good morning right back. Being naked is no excuse. A lycra-clad cyclist will always wave or nod to another lycra-clad cyclist headed in the opposite direction. But if you pedal past in khakis and a windbreaker, forget it. You might as well be invisible.
I've had Germans tell me that the only people who talk to strangers are crazy people. What must they think of Americans, then? Minnesota Nice must be some kind of mental disorder.
It's my new mission to figure out exactly when and where it's acceptable to say hello to people, then do it. Except I might pass on friendly chatter in the showers at the pool. Sometimes I wish other people really could be invisible.
You are walking down the sidewalk, somewhere in Germany. Another pedestrian is walking toward you. Do you:
a) Smile and say hello (or hallo)
b) Look at your shoes and move on, frowning slightly
Quiz question 2:
You enter the waiting room at the dentist's office. Do you:
a) Quietly find a seat and pick up a magazine
b) Say a general hello (hallo) to all of our fellow patients before sitting down
If you answered a to both of these questions, you are a foreigner. You are probably from the Western Hemisphere. If you answered b or c, you are likely a German, or someone else from northern Europe.
I've mentioned before that Germans don't greet strangers, but it's not actually that simple. A German will talk to a stranger if they share something in common. It's a sort of hallo code. After 3 + years in Germany, I am just beginning to decipher how it works.
In anonymous places, there are no hallos. No one will give you more than a sneer on the street, in the grocery store, or on the bus. Usually they won't make eye contact at all. Germans must believe they have a superpower to become invisible. If you are not looking at the people around you, then they certainly cannot see you. Therefore, whatever you do, you can't be rude. If a new register opens up at the supermarket, it's ok to zoom forward from the back of the store and become the first person in line. Has your train arrived? It's ok to shove your way on before people have gotten off the train. Just don't look at anyone and your superpower is in full effect.
However, saying hello to people with some kind of shared experience is normal, and even expected.
You should say hello if you are joining a group waiting at the dentist's office or the hair salon. When an old lady greets everyone in the swimming pool locker room, you'd better smile and say good morning right back. Being naked is no excuse. A lycra-clad cyclist will always wave or nod to another lycra-clad cyclist headed in the opposite direction. But if you pedal past in khakis and a windbreaker, forget it. You might as well be invisible.
I've had Germans tell me that the only people who talk to strangers are crazy people. What must they think of Americans, then? Minnesota Nice must be some kind of mental disorder.
It's my new mission to figure out exactly when and where it's acceptable to say hello to people, then do it. Except I might pass on friendly chatter in the showers at the pool. Sometimes I wish other people really could be invisible.
Thursday, May 28, 2015
Join the team
Dear readers,
I am going to take a break from my usual commentary and tell you a little about what I do when I am not pondering things like fizzy water, mustard udders and automats. Much of my time and energy these days goes into a little nonprofit called Play Global.
It started as the idea of our good friend Tom (Dizzy) Gillespie. A few years later, it has grown into an actual, legitimate organization. The idea is to teach baseball to kids in places where its lessons - respect, teamwork, self-confidence and fun - can make a big difference.
Now take a minute to close your eyes and imagine... wait, don't close your eyes. Keep reading and picture this:
Kids are running around in a park, they are shouting, laughing. Some are boys and some are girls. They are throwing a ball around.
Now picture that these children have not met before, they do not live in the same neighborhood, their parents are not friends. They don't even speak the same language at home, and their cultures have been divided for centuries.
Somehow, as they play together, none of that matters.
This is what Play Global is working on in Israel. Along with the Israel Association of Baseball, we are running a program called Baseball Le'Kulam, or Baseball for All. The simple idea - bring Jewish and Arab kids together in Israel, teach them to play baseball, let them get to know each other. And it works. We had our first clinic in March and I got to see it first hand. Here's my favorite quote from a Jewish girl who participated:
Got 3 minutes? Watch this news clip to learn more (also see Tom looking great on camera):
And all this costs some money. Not a ton of money, but we can't do it for free.
The real reason I am changing topics today is to ask for your help. I'm inviting you to join our team:
https://www.crowdrise.com/baseballinisrael-playglobal/fundraiser/playglobal
I don't ask much of you, other than to bear with me during my ramblings. I don't advertise and I enjoy writing for you without even knowing who most of you are.
But I am asking to be a part of this project and make a donation. How big or small is up to you.
Tom and I are running an online campaign to keep Baseball Le'Kulam going for the rest of this year. If we can raise enough, it could carry forward into next year too.
You can donate online. Here is the link one more time:
https://www.crowdrise.com/baseballinisrael-playglobal/fundraiser/playglobal
If you can donate, or even if you can't, please share this cause and the link with your friends and contacts. Kids, baseball, respect, peace... causes we can all believe in.
If you want to read a funnier blog post about the same cause, check out the King of Jewish Baseball.
And thank you, in advance. Now back to our regularly scheduled rambling.
I am going to take a break from my usual commentary and tell you a little about what I do when I am not pondering things like fizzy water, mustard udders and automats. Much of my time and energy these days goes into a little nonprofit called Play Global.
It started as the idea of our good friend Tom (Dizzy) Gillespie. A few years later, it has grown into an actual, legitimate organization. The idea is to teach baseball to kids in places where its lessons - respect, teamwork, self-confidence and fun - can make a big difference.
Now take a minute to close your eyes and imagine... wait, don't close your eyes. Keep reading and picture this:
Kids are running around in a park, they are shouting, laughing. Some are boys and some are girls. They are throwing a ball around.
Now picture that these children have not met before, they do not live in the same neighborhood, their parents are not friends. They don't even speak the same language at home, and their cultures have been divided for centuries.
Somehow, as they play together, none of that matters.
This is what Play Global is working on in Israel. Along with the Israel Association of Baseball, we are running a program called Baseball Le'Kulam, or Baseball for All. The simple idea - bring Jewish and Arab kids together in Israel, teach them to play baseball, let them get to know each other. And it works. We had our first clinic in March and I got to see it first hand. Here's my favorite quote from a Jewish girl who participated:
“The Arab
kids were not really so
different - and they were more normal than most of the kids in my class."
And all this costs some money. Not a ton of money, but we can't do it for free.
The real reason I am changing topics today is to ask for your help. I'm inviting you to join our team:
https://www.crowdrise.com/baseballinisrael-playglobal/fundraiser/playglobal
I don't ask much of you, other than to bear with me during my ramblings. I don't advertise and I enjoy writing for you without even knowing who most of you are.
But I am asking to be a part of this project and make a donation. How big or small is up to you.
Tom and I are running an online campaign to keep Baseball Le'Kulam going for the rest of this year. If we can raise enough, it could carry forward into next year too.
You can donate online. Here is the link one more time:
https://www.crowdrise.com/baseballinisrael-playglobal/fundraiser/playglobal
If you can donate, or even if you can't, please share this cause and the link with your friends and contacts. Kids, baseball, respect, peace... causes we can all believe in.
If you want to read a funnier blog post about the same cause, check out the King of Jewish Baseball.
And thank you, in advance. Now back to our regularly scheduled rambling.
Monday, May 25, 2015
The real Germany - travel guide
We've had a lot of visitors lately. The guest bedroom that usually houses our wet laundry is now housing guests. So after three weekends in a row of showing people around town, I have come up with some instructions on how to have an authentic German experience. Forget lederhosen and oompah bands, and welcome to the real Germany.
1. Ride a bike
Want to get around town like a German? Hop on a bike. Want to get run over by a German? Walk around in the bike lane. It will start with the polite ding of a bell, which then gets more and more insistent as the bike comes closer to you, dumb foreign pedestrian. Then you might get yelled at. For your own safety, please stay on your side of the sidewalk.
At least for Americans, there is a child-like thrill to getting on your bike and riding around with your friends. When you were eight, you rode to the pool or the store. Now, if you are me, you ride... to the pool or the store, or to work or to anywhere else. It's easier than driving a car, faster than taking a bus, and, just like when you were eight, you can drink a beer and get back on the bike without breaking any laws.
2. Visit a Biergarten
It's a beautiful time of year in Germany. The biergartens are open. So come on by - preferrably by bike - and order up a big one. Know that you don't have to specify the kind of beer. It's like in Cheers reruns when Norm shows up and orders beer. That's all you need to do. There might be a menu, but it's not necessary. Sit in the sun while it's out and slurp up those suds. They taste great in the outdoors.
3. Eat Turkish food
Do you think that Germans only eat potato salad and wiener schnitzel? Wrong. They do eat those things, but not nearly as often as they eat croissants and pizza and especially Turkish food. What I really mean is Döner - the Turkish version of a gyro with rotisserie roasted lamb shaved off and packed into a spongy pita bread with veggies and tzaziki sauce... I'm getting hungry just typing those words. There is a Döner shop on most every corner in cities, and even tucked away in sleepy towns where you'd think no immigrant would go. It's tasty, it's cheap, and it's not nearly as bad for you as a Big Mac and fries. Though you can get fries too, and they are delicious.
4. Have a lazy Sunday
God rested on the seventh day, and so do the Germans. They take Sundays seriously. There are no shops open, very few cars on the road, no reason to get out of your pajamas. Bakeries open from 8-11 so that you can buy Brötchen (rolls) for the obligatory long German breakfast (see #7). Then it's quiet time, all day long. On Sunday, it's against the law to mow your lawn or blast music. At first it bothered me that I couldn't go to the grocery store or run any errands on a Sunday or start the laundry before 10am (too noisy). Now I am ok with it. Having a day of rest worked out for God, and his laundry is way more important than mine.
5. Keep quiet
Germans are not loud people. Except when they are drunk or watching soccer, or - most often - drunk and watching soccer. It's also good to know that when you, as an American, speak in your normal volume (in Germany that is loud) in English, people can often understand you. Just because you don't know what the Germans are saying doesn't mean they don't catch you commenting on how quiet the bus is or how long that guy's mullet is.
6. Watch football
And by football I mean soccer. If possible, watch it outdoors on a huge TV screen with a few hundred other people. That way you can yell and drink beer together. If possible, wear your team's jersey or scarf and learn the right songs to sing.
Americans often think that soccer is boring and we don't really understand what all the players are supposed to be doing. That is how Europeans feel about baseball. But on game days, it's hard not to get caught up in the excitement, even if you have no clue what's going on.
7. Go to the bakery
Need breakfast? coffee and a newspaper? a quick snack? Go to the bakery. You won't have to look too hard; there's one on almost every corner. You'll need some bakery-specific vocabulary, but pointing and grunting also works. And on the weekends, you will need to throw on some sweat pants and get the rolls before 11. Your rolls are to go with the four different kinds of cheeses, 2-3 deli meats and exactly four spreads on the table. Go ahead, make a butter/gouda/jam/ham/cucumber roll. Then make one slathered in Nutella. And linger over it for an hour or three. It's Sunday, after all.
All you need for an authentic visit to Germany are these 7 tips. And you've got them here, for free.
Take that, Rick Steves. And order yourself a Döner while you're at it.
1. Ride a bike
Want to get around town like a German? Hop on a bike. Want to get run over by a German? Walk around in the bike lane. It will start with the polite ding of a bell, which then gets more and more insistent as the bike comes closer to you, dumb foreign pedestrian. Then you might get yelled at. For your own safety, please stay on your side of the sidewalk.
At least for Americans, there is a child-like thrill to getting on your bike and riding around with your friends. When you were eight, you rode to the pool or the store. Now, if you are me, you ride... to the pool or the store, or to work or to anywhere else. It's easier than driving a car, faster than taking a bus, and, just like when you were eight, you can drink a beer and get back on the bike without breaking any laws.
 |
| Know which part of the sidewalk is for you |
2. Visit a Biergarten
It's a beautiful time of year in Germany. The biergartens are open. So come on by - preferrably by bike - and order up a big one. Know that you don't have to specify the kind of beer. It's like in Cheers reruns when Norm shows up and orders beer. That's all you need to do. There might be a menu, but it's not necessary. Sit in the sun while it's out and slurp up those suds. They taste great in the outdoors.
 |
| My parents having a true German experience |
Do you think that Germans only eat potato salad and wiener schnitzel? Wrong. They do eat those things, but not nearly as often as they eat croissants and pizza and especially Turkish food. What I really mean is Döner - the Turkish version of a gyro with rotisserie roasted lamb shaved off and packed into a spongy pita bread with veggies and tzaziki sauce... I'm getting hungry just typing those words. There is a Döner shop on most every corner in cities, and even tucked away in sleepy towns where you'd think no immigrant would go. It's tasty, it's cheap, and it's not nearly as bad for you as a Big Mac and fries. Though you can get fries too, and they are delicious.
4. Have a lazy Sunday
God rested on the seventh day, and so do the Germans. They take Sundays seriously. There are no shops open, very few cars on the road, no reason to get out of your pajamas. Bakeries open from 8-11 so that you can buy Brötchen (rolls) for the obligatory long German breakfast (see #7). Then it's quiet time, all day long. On Sunday, it's against the law to mow your lawn or blast music. At first it bothered me that I couldn't go to the grocery store or run any errands on a Sunday or start the laundry before 10am (too noisy). Now I am ok with it. Having a day of rest worked out for God, and his laundry is way more important than mine.
5. Keep quiet
Germans are not loud people. Except when they are drunk or watching soccer, or - most often - drunk and watching soccer. It's also good to know that when you, as an American, speak in your normal volume (in Germany that is loud) in English, people can often understand you. Just because you don't know what the Germans are saying doesn't mean they don't catch you commenting on how quiet the bus is or how long that guy's mullet is.
6. Watch football
And by football I mean soccer. If possible, watch it outdoors on a huge TV screen with a few hundred other people. That way you can yell and drink beer together. If possible, wear your team's jersey or scarf and learn the right songs to sing.
Americans often think that soccer is boring and we don't really understand what all the players are supposed to be doing. That is how Europeans feel about baseball. But on game days, it's hard not to get caught up in the excitement, even if you have no clue what's going on.
7. Go to the bakery
Need breakfast? coffee and a newspaper? a quick snack? Go to the bakery. You won't have to look too hard; there's one on almost every corner. You'll need some bakery-specific vocabulary, but pointing and grunting also works. And on the weekends, you will need to throw on some sweat pants and get the rolls before 11. Your rolls are to go with the four different kinds of cheeses, 2-3 deli meats and exactly four spreads on the table. Go ahead, make a butter/gouda/jam/ham/cucumber roll. Then make one slathered in Nutella. And linger over it for an hour or three. It's Sunday, after all.
All you need for an authentic visit to Germany are these 7 tips. And you've got them here, for free.
Take that, Rick Steves. And order yourself a Döner while you're at it.
Thursday, May 21, 2015
You dropped a bomb on me
I got evacuated from my house on Tuesday night because of a bomb. Not kidding.
As an American I hear the word 'bomb' and I think about terrorists, homemade explosives, and crazy people blowing stuff up. The bomb found in my neighborhood was nothing like that. It was an American bomb. It had been lying dormant under a school since World War II.
Throughout Germany, they dig up dud Allied bombs every so often. Hannover is no exception. I wrote about this back in 2013 when a bomb was diffused in the Steintor area, forcing 9,000 people to evacuate. On Tuedsay night, 31,000 of us were the displaced people of Hannover. There's always a chance that the bomb will blow up.
Before I go on, here's a very quick recap of WWII bombings here:
There were a lot of them. About a million bombs of various types were dropped on Hannover during the war.
About the bombings:
The city was 90% destroyed during the war and most of what you see today was built or restored later on. The Allies were after Hannover's factories, industrial areas and railways, but residential areas were hit too.
So it's no surprise that a few bombs did not explode and got lost in the rubble. This one - all 550 pounds of it - was unearthed in the construction as an old school building was demolished.
About the evacuation:
At around 4pm the city published a list of streets that had to be evacuated. Everyone was supposed to be out by 8pm and we didn't know when we could return. There was also a very slight chance our house could be blown to bits by the time we got back.
What do you pack in this situation? It's like that hypothetical question of what do you take if your house is burning down. Family photos? Money? Jewelry? Brian and I just took our toothbrushes and passports. If this all went bad we needed to be able to get out of Germany with clean teeth.
About not wanting to be evacuated:
We headed to a friend's house around 6 with serious second thoughts. What if we just stayed? What would happen to us, really? Germans are all about safety and security and control. Maybe we were getting sucked in. Maybe by heading out of the house as ordered meant that we were being controlled. We were just following orders. We did not question authority.
Had Brian and I become Germanized? What was next - never crossing the street on a red light? Wearing a scarf in July? Drinking only fizzy water?
Americans don't evacuate. Americans stand their ground and defend their homes in tornadoes and hurricanes and alien attacks. We don't let anyone push us around and we hold our firearms high! Until they send heat seeking helicopters after us.
Back to the evacuation:
How do you get 31,000 people to get out of their homes? You call, you bang on doors, you block of streets, you stop the trams and buses, and you drive down the street with flashing lights and sirens and a loudspeaker.
Cultural side note: You would think that's forewarning enough, and that anyone who stays does it at their own risk. At least I would think that, but I am not German. When they say mandatory evacuation, they mean mandatory.
So when people don't respond to the calls and the loudspeakers, you send in a helicopter with a thermal-imaging camera. It shows where people are hiding out so that police can come and kick their doors in.
About being a displaced person:
It was fun to joke that Brian and I were refugees from the south side of town. We headed off on our bikes with passports and toothbrushes, not sure what the future would hold. Of course we weren't actually refugees. We went out for dinner and drank red wine and had a nice little sleepover with friends. We didn't even sleep in a tent. But it's not fun to leave your house on short notice because you have to. And when we returned in the morning, everything was back to normal. That's probably the most excitement this town will have for months.
But it made me wonder - what am I doing now just because the authorities tell me to? Are we letting the Germans push us around? Sure, the streets are clean and trains run on time, but that doesn't mean I have to do what I am told. The people who dropped that bomb weren't getting pushed around by anybody.
Today I deliberately crossed the street against the light, just to assert how foreign I am. I pronounced some German words incorrectly, on purpose. And I am currently chugging a large glass of tap water, while this song keeps running through my head:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yiLrJBHiSzM
As an American I hear the word 'bomb' and I think about terrorists, homemade explosives, and crazy people blowing stuff up. The bomb found in my neighborhood was nothing like that. It was an American bomb. It had been lying dormant under a school since World War II.
Throughout Germany, they dig up dud Allied bombs every so often. Hannover is no exception. I wrote about this back in 2013 when a bomb was diffused in the Steintor area, forcing 9,000 people to evacuate. On Tuedsay night, 31,000 of us were the displaced people of Hannover. There's always a chance that the bomb will blow up.
Before I go on, here's a very quick recap of WWII bombings here:
There were a lot of them. About a million bombs of various types were dropped on Hannover during the war.
About the bombings:
The city was 90% destroyed during the war and most of what you see today was built or restored later on. The Allies were after Hannover's factories, industrial areas and railways, but residential areas were hit too.
So it's no surprise that a few bombs did not explode and got lost in the rubble. This one - all 550 pounds of it - was unearthed in the construction as an old school building was demolished.
About the evacuation:
At around 4pm the city published a list of streets that had to be evacuated. Everyone was supposed to be out by 8pm and we didn't know when we could return. There was also a very slight chance our house could be blown to bits by the time we got back.
What do you pack in this situation? It's like that hypothetical question of what do you take if your house is burning down. Family photos? Money? Jewelry? Brian and I just took our toothbrushes and passports. If this all went bad we needed to be able to get out of Germany with clean teeth.
About not wanting to be evacuated:
We headed to a friend's house around 6 with serious second thoughts. What if we just stayed? What would happen to us, really? Germans are all about safety and security and control. Maybe we were getting sucked in. Maybe by heading out of the house as ordered meant that we were being controlled. We were just following orders. We did not question authority.
Had Brian and I become Germanized? What was next - never crossing the street on a red light? Wearing a scarf in July? Drinking only fizzy water?
Americans don't evacuate. Americans stand their ground and defend their homes in tornadoes and hurricanes and alien attacks. We don't let anyone push us around and we hold our firearms high! Until they send heat seeking helicopters after us.
Back to the evacuation:
How do you get 31,000 people to get out of their homes? You call, you bang on doors, you block of streets, you stop the trams and buses, and you drive down the street with flashing lights and sirens and a loudspeaker.
Cultural side note: You would think that's forewarning enough, and that anyone who stays does it at their own risk. At least I would think that, but I am not German. When they say mandatory evacuation, they mean mandatory.
So when people don't respond to the calls and the loudspeakers, you send in a helicopter with a thermal-imaging camera. It shows where people are hiding out so that police can come and kick their doors in.
About being a displaced person:
It was fun to joke that Brian and I were refugees from the south side of town. We headed off on our bikes with passports and toothbrushes, not sure what the future would hold. Of course we weren't actually refugees. We went out for dinner and drank red wine and had a nice little sleepover with friends. We didn't even sleep in a tent. But it's not fun to leave your house on short notice because you have to. And when we returned in the morning, everything was back to normal. That's probably the most excitement this town will have for months.
But it made me wonder - what am I doing now just because the authorities tell me to? Are we letting the Germans push us around? Sure, the streets are clean and trains run on time, but that doesn't mean I have to do what I am told. The people who dropped that bomb weren't getting pushed around by anybody.
Today I deliberately crossed the street against the light, just to assert how foreign I am. I pronounced some German words incorrectly, on purpose. And I am currently chugging a large glass of tap water, while this song keeps running through my head:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yiLrJBHiSzM
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About Me
- Julia
- Thanks for coming to my blog. It started as a way to keep in touch with family and friends, and now has become an ongoing project. I'm an American living in Germany and trying to travel whenever I can. I write about my experiences as an expatriate (the interesting ones and the embarrassing ones), and about my travels. There are some recurring characters in this blog, particularly my husband Brian and several of our friends. The title comes from the idea that living in a foreign country means making a lot of mistakes. So the things you used to do easily you now have to try over and over again. Hopefully, like me, you can laugh at how idiotic it feels. If you have happened upon my blog, then welcome. Knowing that people are reading what I write makes me keep going. Feel free to write comments or suggestions for future posts.