Fully equipped with a beard you could shear for wool weekly, enough body hair to make a black bear jealous, and a belly full of delicious German beer, my old roommate Freddy is the archetypal mountain man, fully capable of enduring the densely forested hills of the Schwarzwald alone. But Freddy didn’t just look the part, he played it too. It must’ve been every other weekend he went a little holiday to dominate the great outdoors. I’d see him with his snowboard and skis, his mountain bikes, or his camping gear and ask him, “Where you off to, Freddy?” “Oh I’m just off to (insert random forest or mountain) to do some rock climbing/skiing/biking/camping with Kirsten.” “Oh, have fun,” I’d respond surprised by his nonchalance. With a simple yet enthusiastic “Danke schön!” he’d be out the door to tame Europe’s most untamable landscapes.
While Freddy’s love of extreme sports impressed me, what impressed me more was how open and, well, literal he was. Some days when I’d walk into our apartment after class I’d pass him smoking on the couch on the balcony by the door. “How’s it going, Freddy?” I’d ask without thinking much of it and expecting to hear the automatic “Good,” that everyone responds with back in the States. So when he said , “Eh, not so good, Tom,” it caught me a bit off guard. Snapping out of social autopilot mode, I ask him, “Not so good? What’s wrong?” “Well, I’ve been having a bit of a… how do you say… stomach ache? I’ve been going to the bathroom a lot.” “Oh no. Well, I’ll make sure not to use all your toilet paper. Gute Besserung (feel better)!” I replied awkwardly trying to utilize the minimal German that I knew and he let out a hearty laugh. Though Freddy’s English was not the best – much, much better than my German however – it was clear that he had just nonchalantly told me that he had the runs. I couldn’t help but giggle at his frankness.
I found myself in the same scenario about two weeks later as I finished my daily walk through Freiburg after school. “How’s it going, Freddy?” “Not so good, Tom.” “Not so good?” It was then that I noticed a metal brace secured to his shin and extending just above his knee. “Freddy! What happened?” “Oh, I broke my leg skiing this weekend,” he said in the same nonchalant, matter-of-fact tone before returning to his cigarette. “Well I think you might want to lay off the sports for a couple days,” I said, stretching for a joke to fill the unresolved silence and he laughed again. I couldn’t help but think that the worse my joke was the harder he laughed. A week later, he went mountain biking.
At least a month went by before I had another memorable Freddy run-in on our metal-grated balcony. Same scenario. “Hi Tom.” “Hi Freddy. How’s it going?” “Not so good.” “Why not so good?” “Oh I can’t hear.” “You can’t hear?” “Yes.” “How’d that happen?” “I woke up yesterday and I couldn’t hear out of my left ear.” “Did you get that checked out?” “Not yet. But I will see the doctor tomorrow.” “Well feel better… I mean, FEEL BETTER!” I shouted before walking away to the sound of his hearty German giggle.
Before going to Germany, I had heard that Germans “say what they mean, and mean what they say.” Though the language gap probably played a role, I still can’t get over how literally Freddy took the “How’s it going?” question. It was a surprise, pretty funny, but also very refreshing. People say that Germans are harsh with their words, but from my experience they are just very direct. If I didn’t do my dishes after cooking dinner or failed to fulfill my weekly living room clean up duty, I would sternly be told to do them. But, it was never insulting or judgmental. No one told me to do my dishes and then snickered, “What a lazy asshole,” when I walked away. I was told what I had to be told, and our friendships carried on as usual.
Thinking about this in Germany, I thought back to my roommates in the US. Asking them to not leave their clothes strewn about the living room wasn’t simply a reminder to do their part in the apartment, it was an insult their honor. It was as if by telling them to do their dishes I inadvertently attacked their character and labeled them irresponsible slobs. So much was inferred – often falsely – from what was actually said.
Now that I’m fully acclimated back in the States, I find myself on social autopilot once again cruising by “Hey Tom, How are ya?”’s and responding “Good” or maybe “Good, but busy” as I speed away. But every now and then I think back to Freddy; I think back to that burly beard, that genuine laugh, and his blatant honesty. Even though I learned more about his bowels than I ever wanted to, I can't help but miss that genuineness.
No comments:
Post a Comment