Tag Archives: Germany

My German Wife Offers the Perfect Alternative to Traditional Childbirth

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Kuato says, “Open your mind.” — Photo Credit: eyeliam (Jason Lander – https://www.flickr.com/photos/eyeliam/) — Subject to Copyright, Attribution 2.0 Generic

Back in March of 2013, my German wife and I were watching the entire collection of Firefly — you know, the greatest sci-fi TV series of all time? — and yet still, I had to make her watch it, because although she is a huge nerd, she just isn’t a futuristic, spaceship kind of nerd.)

There’s this one episode of Firefly called Heart of Gold, in which a brothel comes under attack by an evil tyrant hellbent on claiming his biological infant son from one of the young prostitutes he’d impregnated. The heroes of the show come to the brothel’s aid and a massive gunfight ensues. It’s a spectacle of bullets, laser beams and garter belts — pretty much the sexiest shootout ever — but during the mayhem, the pregnant girl goes into labor.

She starts screaming, hollering and pouring fluids from her nether regions. (It was a rather effective deterrent for anyone inclined to bring a new soul into the world.) My wife was watching this woman thrashing around and hollering in pain when she turned to me and said:

“It’s so weird that humans reproduce this way. I would rather lay an egg.”

*Would you like to read another post about my German wife’s attitude toward having babies? Check out this other gem: My German Wife Shops for American Baby Gifts

 


 

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InterNations: An American Expat Answers Questions About Living in Germany

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Life as an American Expat in Germany, an Interview
with Oh God, My Wife Is German.

Conducted by InterNations
October, 2014

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Please tell us a little bit about yourself. Who you are, where you come from, when you moved to Germany, etc.

I am an American expat from Portland, Oregon, now living in Hannover, Germany. I moved here in September of 2012 in order to be with my wife, who is just German as all hell.

New Town Hall, Hannover, Germany

When and why did you decide to start blogging about your experiences?

I’ve attempted to maintain one blog or another since 2001. None of them lasted because I just didn’t have the motivation, but this all changed when I met my wife. I thought she was hilarious – whether she meant to be or not – and I made a habit of writing down her more memorable “denglish” quotes. I had no idea I would ever share these things with the world. When it all started, I just thought I was collecting little inside jokes for she and I to laugh about in bed while we farted under the covers. Her quotes soon became the inspiration for the blog and — much to my surprise — readers seemed to enjoy them as much as we did. (The quotes, I mean. Not the farts.)

Do you have any favorite blog entries of yours?

You know, I’ve never understood what makes one post more popular than another. Some of my absolute favorite posts have tanked, while weaker ones have gone on to be reblogged and republished in numerous places. But there is one fairly recent post which amused me more than the rest: How to Convince Your Neighbors You Are A Thief and An Alcoholic (In One Simple Gesture)

vodka bottle in germany

Tell us about the ways your new life in Germany differs from that back home. Did you have trouble getting used to the new circumstances? Did you experience culture shock?

For me, the single biggest difference between life back in the States and life as an expat in Germany is boredom. That is to say, boredom no longer exists. Every day is different, especially as I attempt to live using a second language. And as for culture shock, oh my yes, I have a whole blog category relating my experiences in this arena. Here is just one post of many: Culture Shock 15: The Batshit Insane Ways in Which Germans Tell Time (And Why I Hate Them For It)

Do you think you were fully prepared for what awaited you in Germany? If you could, would you change some decisions/preparations you made?

There is no way anyone can fully prepare for a life change like this. You do the best you can – learning as much of the language, culture and history as possible – then dive in headfirst. Where do you find a job? An apartment? Friends? Forget it; these things will take care of themselves. And no matter if the transition goes smoothly or not, I guarantee you it will be hilarious.

Every expat knows that expat life comes with some hilarious anecdotes and funny experiences. Care to share one with us?

This is precisely what my blog is all about, from my wife’s time in America, to my time here in Germany. One anecdote does come to mind, however, but it has long since been lost in the archives of my blog. I think like 12 people read it at the time. It was called, New York Liaison: A Tale of Love and Projectile Vomiting in the Big Apple

New York Liaison: A Tale of Love and Projectile Voliting in New York City

Which three tips would you like to give future expats before they embark on their new life in Germany?

1: Learn the language.

2: Bring certified, notarized copies of everything.

3: Watch out for bikes.

How is the expat community in Germany? Did you have a hard time finding like-minded people or fellow expats?

The expat community here is great. There are groups meeting up all the time – English-speaking ones, especially. My biggest problem is bothering to go at all. It’s not that I don’t like them, it’s that I’m lazy and awkward. Socializing makes me tired. What I really want to do is watch the latest season of Game of Thrones with my wife, drink a couple of brew doggies and pass out on the couch.

 How would you summarize your expat life in Germany in a single, catchy sentence?

“Tearless grief bleeds inwardly.”

– Christian Nevell Bovee

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Check out InterNations for great expat networking and social opportunities at www.internations.org

And if you’d like to find out more about life as an American expat in Germany, check out some of our other posts, like this one: Culture Shock 5: Five Things That Suck About Living in Germany


Bachelor Week: American Man in Germany Left to His Own Devices for 7 Days

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Recently, my German wife went on a field trip with one of her Gymnasium classes to Poland. This allowed me a full week in which to eat, sleep, work and relax in exactly the manner I wished. No opinions. No objections. What followed were 7 days of ‘Me Time,’ and shit got weird fast.

Day 1

Woke up. Left the bed unmade and felt like a badass about it. (But still a little guilty.)

Tried to open the blinds and accidentally broke one.

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Went to the gym, worked out and showered. Decided not to shave my chin whiskers all week as a kind of repulsive welcome home gift for my wife. (The last time I did this, she stated flatly, “You look like a goat.”

Breakfast, lunch and dinner were all ritualistically drowned in Sriracha hot sauce.

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Day 2

Woke up. Made half of the bed, because… fuck it, right?

Took a picture of myself with my wife’s pink panties on my head and my eyes peering out through the leg holes… kind of like the world’s fruitiest ninja. I then emailed the picture to her and decided I am the funniest man alive.

Ate all of my meals with a near-lethal dose of Tapatio hot sauce.

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Finally returned that gigantic container full of empty beer bottles (Bierkasten) to Edeka. A clerk showed me how to slide the whole thing into the recycling machine, which felt uncomfortably like hand-feeding Optimus Prime.

Walked home and dropped a spicy deuce in the main bathroom downstairs with the window completely open, giving myself a panoramic view of our entire back yard. The old couple living in the house to my left — and the kindergarten full of children to my right — should have (theoretically) only been able to see my smiling face.

Day 3

Woke up. Drank coffee mixed with tea. (I call this “Super Tea.”)

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Talked to myself for an hour and a half. My monologue ended abruptly when the mailman rang the bell, scaring me so badly I spilled Super Tea all down my front.

Examined my facial hair in the mirror. I’d been hoping for the “rugged cowboy” look, but things were headed more toward “dandy Englishman.”

Went to the store, bought supplies and made the largest, spiciest batch of chili ever. (The seasoning mix was courtesy of one of my favorite blog readers, whom I’ve actually met and befriended in real life. I call him, “Texas Hagrid.”) I wore my trusty onion goggles as I cut the onions, because if I don’t, my eyes sting and water uncontrollably. (Because I’m a huge pussy, you see.) Cooked the chili and then tasted it — still boiling hot — and seared the sweet holy Jesus out of my mouth.

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Watched the same 3 Best of Vine videos for the 10,000th time each and laughed merrily:

1: Baby Sitting Caucasian Kids
2: The moment I finally catch that mosquito, I feel like a NINJA!
3: Beautiful NBA Basketball Game Song (AKA: Best vine ever)

Day 4

Woke up in a terrible mood. The whole world could really just kiss my lumpy white ass, you know? I think it was due to the fact that I went to sleep pissed off because my internet connection would not allow me to Skype with my wife the night before. We tried everything, and it was terribly frustrating. Obviously this gave me license to be a complete cock to every single person I encountered, overreacting to every petty annoyance with volcanic rage:

Old person walking in the middle of the bike lane so I can’t pass him? “STEP ASIDE, SHORT-TIMER.”

Bike pedal slowly coming unscrewed and I know I don’t have the right wrench at home to tighten it? “I KNEW YOU’D FAIL ME, YOU SECOND-HAND PIECE OF DOG SHIT.”

Bike store closed from 1pm until 3pm, like this is some kind of siesta culture? “OH FUCK YOU, DIETER. I HOPE YOUR SLEEP APNEA PLAYS HELL WITH YOUR QUALITY OF LIFE.”

Day 5

Woke up, went to the gym, showered and then sent the following text message to my wife: “I just finished washing my pink nutsack and I am thinking of you!”

Worked all day, getting up from my desk only to use the bathroom or peer suspiciously out the window at the slightest noise from the outside world. My neighbor closed the door of his car and I was certain I’d heard a gunshot. The joyous laughter of the children in school next door hit my ears like nails on a chalkboard. I felt like everyone in the neighborhood was watching me, judging me for watching them, so I left all the lights off and stroked my chin hairs in the dark. Time to start writing my manifesto condemning industrial society!

Ate 5 scrambled eggs for dinner, cooked with a big slab of pig fat. What? I just greased the pan with the fat — I didn’t actually eat it. Okay, so I did. Then I washed it all down with a full liter of tap water and felt sick to my stomach. You’re not better than me.

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Day 6

Woke up to find all of my upper body muscles so sore from the gym I could hardly move (though I managed to hit the snooze button on my alarm 3 times.)

Came home and — like every day since my wife’s departure — ate all of my meals drenched in hot sauce. This culminated in an intense burning sensation within every organ south of my nipples. Obviously I chose to ignore this warning sign and go about my day. At one point, I got up to urinate and, thinking I needed to pass some innocent gas, flexed a little. It was not gas. There was an incendiary round in the chamber, and it had gone off right in my undies. I jumped in the shower, put on a fresh set of clothing and accepted the fact that I am the most disgusting man on the planet.

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Purchased a mini keg of beer. Oh yes! Five whole liters of sweet golden honey all to myself! And no one around to tell me, “You’ve had enough, Dear,” “It’s time to go home,” or, “Your right eye is starting to wander again.”

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Wound up going to a party with my friend and took the mini keg with me as the greatest party gift ever. Everyone loved it, except the birthday girl, whom I accidentally sprayed across the tits because I had no idea how to open the keg properly.)

Day 7

Today… The Wife came home. Oh. Shit.

The house was a mess. All of the bathrooms qualified as biohazards and the kitchen should have been quarantined. This is exactly what happened the last time my wife went out of town! Why do I do this to myself!?

I swept the stairs with a brush and dustpan, wiped a sponge around the toilet seats and ran around the house with a broom like I was herding dust bunnies. I jammed all the dirty dishes in the dishwasher and punched the ON button, grabbed the trash and tossed it into the bins outside, then sprinted with all of the empty glass bottles to the recycling bins down the street and Hulk-smashed the shit out of them. Ran back home, folded the laundry, threw the bed together and fluffed the pillows on the couch. If she didn’t look too closely, my wife might have been fooled by this facade into thinking the house was in order. Nope. She saw right through it. And you know what she said when I met her at the train station?

THE WIFE: “You grew out your beard! You’re my little wolfman, aren’t you…”

ME: *Blushing like a girl and trying to hide my smile* “… Yes ...”

 polish-beer-debowe-mocne-and-zubr

When we got home, my wife presented me with several bottles of Polish beer to try. She is so awesome I could just cry. And I am, in fact, crying right now as I type this. (Which is probably due to the fact that the party last night left me deeply, profoundly, level 10, Red Alert hungover.)

I love you honey! *sniff* Please don’t ever leave me alone again!

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German-American Couple Visits the North Sea, Denmark and a Whole Hell of a Lot of Sheep

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“Stop. Stop. Stop.”

In mid-August, my German wife and I boarded a train which took us from Hannover to the North Sea of Germany. We met my wife’s family in Husum and stayed with them on the Nordstrand peninsula — in the tiniest, most 1970s bed and breakfast you’ve ever seen. Outside, we were surrounded by giant wind turbines, rolling green pastures and sheep. Oh God… so many sheep.

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Why are we all wearing socks, you ask? Oh, just the rocks and razor-sharp clam shells hidden beneath the mud…

We went for a walk through the Nordstrand mudflats during low tide (Wattwanderung) and visited the Hallig of Nordstrandischmoor. A hallig is an undyked islet, which means it’s basically just a little hill that becomes isolated by the ocean during high tide, and sometimes for several weeks at a time during winter. 27 people live on Nordstrandischmoor, and it is common knowledge that one of them is pregnant. (A real concern, when their only connection to the mainland is a rusty old construction railway.) The very thought of being trapped on this hallig for any length of time had me nervously checking the tide schedules and eyeballing the nearest sheep, wondering about its capacity to serve as a floatation device. “Mother of God, the ocean is closing in! C’mere you little shit…” *BAAA-A-A-AHHHG*

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That’s a church AND a school. “Welcome to 1st Grade, sinners!”

We also took a day trip to Denmark and visited the city of Sønderborg. I was super excited about this, as I am whenever I get to cross a border into a different country. It always feels a little naughty, like I’m getting away with something. Like I’m a drug mule with a colon full of heroin balloons, and my puckering anus is the only thing between me and a life sentence. I was disappointed when we didn’t have to stop for customs or border patrol — we didn’t even have to show our visas or anything! Oh European Union… you are awesome, but you are boring.

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“Where’s the civilian border patrol? Why is no one shooting at us?”

One the way back from Denmark, we stopped by Flensburg, which is the northernmost town on the German mainland. There, we ran into some kind of festival down by the water, where my brother-in-law and I poured shots of vodka into our Flensburger pilsners and named them “Titty Pils.” (My mother-in-law was not amused.)

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“I’m sorry, Schwiegermutter, but I am not the angel you thought I was.”

The next day, the whole family got on a ferry and rode out to another hallig, this one called Gröde. It is the smallest German voting district, with a whopping total of 17 inhabitants. They have a church, a cemetery and an elementary school in which two students are enrolled. Two. You can imagine what prom will be like when they’re older:

“Would you like to dance, Grizelda?”

“I’m sorry, Orbert, but Papa says dancing gives vigor to the Devil’s loins.”

…and then they just sit there, gazing out the window at the tallest hill on the island, at the peak of which are two sheep enjoying the most violent, wool-slapping sheep sex on earth.

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Oh yes, those people laying in the grass in boots and full raincoats are “sunbathing.”

I can’t really do justice to all the things we saw at the North Sea and in Denmark, so I’ve put this little video together. It summarizes the whole trip in about 60 seconds:

***WARNING*** Video contains a lot of annoying wind noises and more than a few swear words. *To clarify that last bit, I wanted to take a picture of the ocean, not record a video. You feel me, iPhone 4 users?

And of course, here’s a picture gallery. I took 90% of these pictures, but the ones that aren’t completely awful were taken by my wife. Please click one to begin the slideshow.

Thank you for reading our blog and have a wonderful day!

My German Wife Tells the Worst Inside Joke of All-Time

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“Wait, is there a punchline here?” Photo Credit: Joseph Sardin (https://www.flickr.com/photos/14328577@N08/) — Subject to copyright (CC Attribution 2.0 Generic)

Sometime in February of 2013, my German wife and I spent a weekend with her parents in their charming little house. My wife’s father — who shall henceforth be known as ‘Papa Thunderchops,’ due to his epic silver sideburns — was sitting at the kitchen table peeling carrots. Except for when he is outside tending to his garden, Papa Thunderchops is always in the kitchen peeling something: apples, carrots, potatoes… the man just loves to peel shit. So I sat down next to him and started helping, and that’s when my wife came into the room to find the two of us hunched over a rapidly filling bowl of carrot skins.

THE WIFE: “Want to hear a joke my family likes to tell each other?”

ME: “Absolutely.”

THE WIFE: “Carrots are good for your eyes. Do you know why?”

ME: “Why?”

THE WIFE: “Have you ever seen a rabbit wearing glasses?”

*The joke was so bad I actually started laughing. Hard. I was left to wonder, however, if it might be a common joke here in Germany. My wife insists only her family tells it, but that can’t be true. Have you ever heard it before?

 


 

American Expat in Germany Nearly Killed by an Acorn, Vents His Shame upon the Biggest Spider in the Universe

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I just discovered something you have all long suspected — I am a huge pussy. An American pussy, to be precise, but one who enjoys each and every day spent living here in Hannover, Germany. I love it here! I can handle the cold, hard slap of culture shock, and I am slowly (though painfully) learning the German language, but the simple challenges presented by the changing of the seasons continue to test my mettle.

Today started with the usual routine: I got up, got dressed, and retrieved my bike from the garage so I could ride it to the gym. However, I failed to notice the staggering number of acorns covering the street and sidewalk in front of our house. It is Fall as I write this post, and there is a giant oak tree looming over our roof. Every time I go out the front door, I hear the crack of an acorn as it strikes the pavement, reminding me that every year, a certain number of people actually die because of falling coconuts hitting them on the brain.

oak-trees-in-germany

Though smaller and less threatening, acorns are not the adorable comedic fodder we’ve been led to believe by the Ice Age movie franchise and its clearly retarded squirrel character. No, these little sons of bitches are rock hard and impossibly smooth, so you can imagine how a thin bicycle tire might interact with one at high speed.

After getting on my bike and pushing off, I descended the slope of our driveway and began to make a right turn as I entered the street. My front tire bounced off an acorn and turned my handlebars even more to the right, nearly sending me over the top as I struggled to keep it from going perpendicular. Of course a car was passing by at that moment, but I wasn’t in any real danger of being hit; the car was simply there so the passengers inside could witness the expression of sheer terror on my face and mock me for it accordingly.

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I got my bike under control, pulled over to the curb and looked back over my shoulder. There were so many acorns in the street I felt like I’d just unwittingly navigated a minefield during wartime. “6th Division, Charlie Company, Landmine Detection Unit. We just run right through that shit with blindfolds on. 97% success rate. Best record in the Corps.”

acorns-on-the-ground-in-germany

I’m joking right now, but at that moment, I was pissed off. I walked my bike back to the garage, opened the door and practically tossed it inside. Determined to clear the street of every last acorn, I reached for one of the brooms leaning against the wall and saw something move from the corner of my eye. Oh yes, it was the largest spider in Germany.

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As you can see, I managed to snap a few pictures of the spider after coaxing my scrotum back out of its hiding place. That other thing in the picture, my friends, is a €1 euro coin. When I tossed the coin on the ground, the spider started to shake really hard, as if scared. Then I realized it wasn’t scared at all; it was shaking its web in order to better snare whatever doomed creature had fallen into it. Isn’t that just awful? And isn’t that a perfectly legitimate reason to leave the coin there forever, spider or no, so it will never be touched by human fingers again? Christ, just telling this story makes me feel like I’m covered in bugs. I’ll need 2 milligrams of Xanax and 6 ounces of Jameson if I hope to stand a snowball’s chance in hell of falling asleep tonight.

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Since this spider was obviously too huge to live, I grabbed a garden hoe and — using the flat side downward like a piston — smashed that motherfucker with enough force to cause an earthquake on the other side of the planet. I did this repeatedly, and also while screaming like a little girl. Speaking of little girls, there’s a kindergarten right next to our house and the garage door was wide open, so the kids who were walking home from school that day heard, “AAAAAAAA*clang* *clang* *clang*AAAHHHGG!” while seeing a grown man employ a level of violence so profoundly unnecessary it was probably illegal.

I bet those little kids are scarred for life, crying themselves to sleep every night after begging their parents to explain why their new American neighbor hates living in Germany so badly he beats the very soil beneath his feet.

“Wait, the bad man was doing what now?” soothes the parent. “Screaming? And then he started crying, you say? Oh, go back to sleep, Klaus — you were just having another one of your silly little nightmares.”

 


 

TV and Movie Reviews: German-American Couple Watches “Californication”

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Photo Credit: Rex Roof (https://www.flickr.com/photos/rexroof/) — CC Attribution 2.0 Generic License

Title: Californication

Classification: TV Series

Genre: Comedy-Drama

Trailer: (Warning: Adult Content)

Summary: Fox Mulder walks into a room — any room — and at least one attractive female decides, I absolutely must nail that guy within the hour.

Rating: 3 out of 5 Merkel Diamonds.

Merkel-Diamonds-3-of-5

Conclusions:

ME: “Hey, it’s better than watching paint dry.”

THE WIFE: *Pretending to wake up from a sex-dream* “GUH!?–KISS THE TIP!”

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