The most important part of adpating to a new culture is embracing it, and acting like the natives do. Like, if you live with gorillas, you should pick their skin too and eat their little lice. If you live in a nude community, you should walk about bare. Bare naked, that is. If you live in Germany, well, you have to do as the Germans do. Monkey see, monkey do.
For starters, if you want to be German, you have to go outside at the smallest sign of a ray of sunshine. If you want to be German, if the temperature goes above 0°C (and there is the aforementioned sun), you have to go outside. If you want to be German, if there is the tiniest sign of baby flowers blooming (and the aforementioned sun and the aforementioned +0°C rule), you have to go outside.
You see, being outside is very important to the Germans. It's very important because you can almost never go outside! According to the Gregorian Calendar (the calendar we westerners follow), Winter goes from December to February. Not here. Winter begins late September and ends late April... if at all. So, you see, enjoying whatever sunlight there may be is a big deal to these people. To us, I mean. Because I'm one of them now.
I'm one of them, because last Sunday we rode our bikes. We rode our bikes all 4.8 km uphill to Mönkeberg. It was sunny, so the rule was clear: we had to go out. But also, it was really sunny, so we had to go out with our bikes. That's another thing the Germans do: they ride their bikes all year long. Winter, Spring, Summer or Fall, rain, hail, sleet or snow, these people are always on two wheels. We rode our bikes 4.8 km uphill in spite of it being only 5°C. Oh, we were so German on Sunday. Of course I complained about it all the way up and all the way down, but the Germans have no rules against complaining. I have to do it, but I don't have to like it.
I'm one of them because I dress like them. I should have taken a picture, really. Somewhere in Brazil and somewhere in Hamburg, Cris and Cata are giving thanks to the Lord because I finally took off my winter panties and left the house with thin hose on - purple hose, for that matter. And a mini skirt (mini to the point that leaning forwards or knealing downwards is too revealing) and a matching purple sweater. When I told Honey that I felt like a little clown, he said that I looked very German. "That's how they dress", he said. And I asked him if he liked it, and he said yes. Two birds, one stone.
I'm one of them because I think like them. I'm one of them because I speak like them. I'm one of them because I eat like them. I'm one of them because (as of April 11th) I go to their universities.
I'm one of them. I'm one of us.
C'mon, Angie. Give me my citizenship already!
For starters, if you want to be German, you have to go outside at the smallest sign of a ray of sunshine. If you want to be German, if the temperature goes above 0°C (and there is the aforementioned sun), you have to go outside. If you want to be German, if there is the tiniest sign of baby flowers blooming (and the aforementioned sun and the aforementioned +0°C rule), you have to go outside.
You see, being outside is very important to the Germans. It's very important because you can almost never go outside! According to the Gregorian Calendar (the calendar we westerners follow), Winter goes from December to February. Not here. Winter begins late September and ends late April... if at all. So, you see, enjoying whatever sunlight there may be is a big deal to these people. To us, I mean. Because I'm one of them now.
I'm one of them, because last Sunday we rode our bikes. We rode our bikes all 4.8 km uphill to Mönkeberg. It was sunny, so the rule was clear: we had to go out. But also, it was really sunny, so we had to go out with our bikes. That's another thing the Germans do: they ride their bikes all year long. Winter, Spring, Summer or Fall, rain, hail, sleet or snow, these people are always on two wheels. We rode our bikes 4.8 km uphill in spite of it being only 5°C. Oh, we were so German on Sunday. Of course I complained about it all the way up and all the way down, but the Germans have no rules against complaining. I have to do it, but I don't have to like it.
I'm one of them because I dress like them. I should have taken a picture, really. Somewhere in Brazil and somewhere in Hamburg, Cris and Cata are giving thanks to the Lord because I finally took off my winter panties and left the house with thin hose on - purple hose, for that matter. And a mini skirt (mini to the point that leaning forwards or knealing downwards is too revealing) and a matching purple sweater. When I told Honey that I felt like a little clown, he said that I looked very German. "That's how they dress", he said. And I asked him if he liked it, and he said yes. Two birds, one stone.
I'm one of them because I think like them. I'm one of them because I speak like them. I'm one of them because I eat like them. I'm one of them because (as of April 11th) I go to their universities.
I'm one of them. I'm one of us.
C'mon, Angie. Give me my citizenship already!
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