Also: I am allowed to include a couple of photographs, so I included the 3 I think I will include. If you feel a different picture would work better, please let me know!
So, without further ado, it is my humble honor to present:
'Adapting'
My computer died about a week after I arrived in Berlin. I didn’t take it well.
Just as an injury to an obscure muscle group greatly enhances one’s appreciation of the ubiquitous, tireless, thankless, heretofore flawless and totally unnoticed work performed by this muscle group, so did the eventual forced hibernation of my laptop make me realize what a pillar of support my computer it has become to me, especially during stressful transitions. No matter where I am on earth, I can listen to Pet Sounds, check my email over and over again, and type in 12 pt Times New Roman about whatever strange advertisements or awesome dogs I saw today—unless, of course, if my laptop has the wrong mouthparts and cannot nourish itself off of the local energy grid. I lacked the proper adaptor for German electrical outlets and was forced to watch my computer starve to death over the course of a week.My computer died in the midst of perhaps my most drastic transition to date, and it shook me. I felt truly adrift for the first time in a long time. Things got worse from there. A full inventory of all of the things I found to complain about would be boring and embarrassing, but you can get a pretty good idea of my general state of mind by pacing back and forth in your room for a few hours while chanting the following mantra:
“I can’t buy hair conditioner or black beans. These people are awful. I’m sick. My blog is terrible. These rules are inconsistent and humiliating. Nothing is worth photographing or writing about. I can’t buy hair conditioner or black beans…”
For a couple of days I felt uninteresting and generally crappy. This city is large and beautiful enough that I was able to distract myself with novel or bizarre things, but my alienated, drifting, angry malaise persisted.
I was grouchy and I needed to complain about it to the Internet, so I finally went to the major electronics retailer, laid down the euros, and got what I needed to connect my old computer to my new home.
This is my new electronic adaptor, or, as I learned after extensive, embarrassing circumlocution with the guy at the store—“I need a thing, like an electronic thing, that you use to give electricity to electronic devices, that are from the wrong country, and that country is America…”—‘Adaptor’ in German.
The stylish mid-80s adaptor I got from my well-traveled Grandma Mona wasn’t compatible with the strange modern outlets here in Germany, and my first purchase—a much sleeker little black number that cost about as much as a beer—wasn’t equipped for the triple-pronged plug on my laptop power supply.
This humble, homely little thing—that cost about as much as five beers—may not be much to look at, but it means quite a bit to me. Namely, it represents:1. My first successful, independent interaction with a mechanism of German society, that mechanism being the “electric grid/chain electronics retailer/electricity consumer” ecosystem.
2. My eventual triumph (by means of increasingly large outlays of cash) over frustrating little pieces of plastic designed by injection-mold engineers at the behest of German government in an effort to prevent me from starting an electric fire, burning down my apartment complex, and limiting the economic productivity of my fellow citizens.
3. The catalyst for a little reflection about change, translation, and what kind of person I am.
My first thought: I am an American. I believe in justice, the rights of the individual, and making sure power is actual before I obey it. I love bald eagles and pine trees and the Mississippi River. I love my country, and I miss it.
My second thought: I am an English-speaker. In hard times or awkward situations I always fall back to my Muttersprache. When all else fails (and all else fails all the time), I am someone who can talk good: turn a phrase, tell a joke, say something outrageous or disgusting or strange enough to earn some attention.
My third thought: if I want to be happy in Germany, I need to let go of both America and English.
This one was contrary and scary and challenging, but down as I was it seemed worth pursuing.
Here’s the thing: Language and culture are our link to the rest of humanity, our common medium. American culture and American English are my life-long, scratched-into-my-soul interface with society, so connecting with other English-speakers in America is as straightforward as plugging my computer into the wall. America and English have been constants in my life, permanent and all-pervasive routines, and I find routine deeply comforting.
But (BUT) I did not come to Germany to be comfortable. I came here to break routines and challenge myself and try another way of life; and the only way to do that without going insane is to let go of that three-prong, 110v worldview and connect with these European-types on their own terms, two prongs at 220v, with like a little jacket and a tiny cup of espresso. .
I’ve been letting homeland baggage drag me down and hold me back—refer back to when my computer died and I pouted rather than dealing with it. I don’t know what I am, but I do know that I am more than an American, and I am more than an English-speaker. This is my chance to see what sort of person I am when I give up my dominant external themes and dissolve myself in a new culture.
So: I need to dissolve, embrace change, and adapt. I love America and English, so I will let them go. They’ll be there when I get back.
no worries, my wonderful sister maya helped me out. thank you, sister.
ReplyDeletei sent it to the wrong friggin' email this afternoon and hence missed the official deadline, but i have a feeling i may squeak by with an exception.