Ich bin doch Schwerbehindert

It wasn't my first time on the ICE, so as I strolled to find a seat on Germany's fastest train I felt like quite the Europameister. All of the cabins in the car had at least one occupant...so I unsheathed my most charming smile and approached an elderly woman, sitting alone, with one of my well-rehearsed German phrases:

"Entschuldigung, sind diese Plätze frei?" (Excuse me, may I sit down?)

The woman lifted her eyes from her Zeitung and stared at me. After a short pause,

"Ja, wenn Sie schwerbehindert sind." (Yes, if you are retarded.)

I wish a third person was in the cabin to flash the retarded "awkward turtle" this situation so desperately deserved. Sure enough, the outside of the cabin was clearly denoted with several schwerbehindert markings which I hadn't noticed.

Sure, mistakes are bound to happen when you're thrust into a new environment. Mistakes like locking yourself out of the cell phone your cousin gave you and finding yourself on the wrong side of the tracks when trying a catch the U-bahn. Everything seems to confuse me, so the message is crystal clear: You are not immune to culture shock no matter how experienced you think you are. I just wish I didn't have to learn these lessons as if I was severely handicapped.

Blunderings aside, my first week in Germany was pretty memorable. My cousin Anne picked me up from the Frankfurt Hauptbahnhof and I crashed at her apartment for a couple days. Notable undertakings included eating homemade Bavarian dumplings, swigging Apfelwein (made with happy apples :), and a 14-hour jet-coma, and my first ever foray into the German nightlife scene.

I also headed to the Lake of Constance, where I reunited with my old Gastfamilie, the Tillys. They are quite possibly the most hospitable people on Earth. Not only am I visiting them for a week, but also the appropriately-named foreign exchange student Germán from Mexico.

So far, I've played high level pick-up soccer (the average German's soccer skills are a notch higher than the average American's basketball skills), enjoyed my first Schnitzel, rode a bike alongside the beautiful Bodensee, and attended Gymnasium with Julius and Germán. Though I don't have any homework, the days still seem to pass at 100 mph because in this country, even the daily grind is exhilirating. Even the mundane "beer run" or making push-button coffee gets me excited.

Okay, you could argue that's because I normally don't drink coffee or go on beer runs...but that's the point! I have reassessed my stances on these topics since I'm in a different setting, and in this new cultural context, I've been letting myself go. (Don't laugh!...alright, fine, laugh.) I detect myself aligning with the German culture, though I stubbornly refuse to do the same back home. Buying some locally made wine and turning on the espresso machine are completely different than the fake ID alcohol purchases and $3 mochas you may find in the States.

Like the ringing in my ears from last Saturday's Diskothek, I suppose this novel sensation will too fade away given enough time. It will be interesting to see if this does occur, given that I am a true German addict (and a schwerbehindert one at that).



Myself, Julius, Maxi, Germán, and Sophie rocking out in the Tilly's sound-proof room.