...the next time they ride the A train.
1. Stare. Oh my god, STARE.
The first few days I was freaking out. Were my baggy pants that unforgivable? Was my hair so nasty? Eyeliner on my nose? What What What?!?!
There are stares in New York, to be sure: the swift male double-take; the long male linger. Best ignored. There are stares in California, too. The gaze of total strangers. Served with a smile. Exhausting. (Dude, I don't know you. Must we engage?)
The German Stare (rampant across the country) is NOT sexual in nature. It doesn't feel friendly either. It's a pair of eyes taking you in and locking way too long. Nary a flinch. The over-fifties are the worst, but the under-fifties are not immune.
The New Yorker in me reacts one way (Look away, quick! Hold that gaze and an ugly encounter is sure to follow.) The Californian reacts in another (A slowly dawning grin. For surely this stare is precursor to a smile. NOT.)
Do I interpret The Stare as a form of judgment (you left the house like that?)? A watchful eye that keeps the world in line? Recall, this is the country that brought us Bismark's Iron Fist; Stasi informers; table manners so exacting my mother once reached across the table and hit the end of the fork I was holding. It knocked me in the chin. Apparently I was gripping the handle too close to the prongs. She was watching. (Then again, that might just be my mother.)
But there must a lighter side. Perhaps a heartwarming curiosity in all of humankind? My new friend Katja thinks it's an indication of insecurity. Dunno.
In the meantime, I have been practicing staring back (do NOT smile; do NOT break eye contact). I even try staring first. Kind of cool: Permission to study every person in this strange new world for as long as I so please.
Just do NOT let me do this on the subway in Brooklyn. Oh, swift and certain death.
2. Never say Excuse Me.
In New York, I do it all the time: Sorry. Excuse me. Oops, sorry 'bout that.
Step on a heel, brush against an arm, pass too close...
In New York, you have to. I mean, have you seen the way someone looks at you if you push past them on the platform? Spit out that "excuse me" lickety-split. It's not so much good manners as preemptive self-defense.
The last time I was in Atlanta, I learned: Dare to walk as close as two feet to someone, and you're expected to excuse yourself. Beyond the pale, the personal-space apologizing.
Still, Berliners might consider taking (even a corner of) a page from the American south. At first I was too busy doling out my own "entschuldigungs" to realize not a single "tut mir leid" had come my way. Line cutters, body bumpers, personal-space trespassers — silent all.
Today I am typing at my latest Favorite Place in Berlin: St. Oberholz on Rosenthaler Platz. Gabled windows, funky chandelier, two stories of redwood tables. Old Berliner feel, yet Beck's Mutations playing, laptops borne by every patron. Steckdosen! Free wireless! Coffee to grow cajones. A child's fairytale broadcast in the women's bathroom.
When I got here, a young woman with too much foundation was being photographed on the winding staircase. I staked out a table, and photographer, makeup artist, and model soon swarmed nearby. The photographer stood shooting from behind my chair. No more than two inches of air between her and me. I was trying to eat a salad under the shadow of her shoulders. She leaned back into me. Shifted to my left, to my right. Hello! Do you want to sit on my friggin' lap?
Unbelievable: The woman did NOT ONCE say "entschuldigung." It was enough for me to wish her a photo shoot at Fairway; oh how the throngs would take her down.
Katja says Berliners just can't be bothered. Americans are out-of-control polite for their taste.Yeah, okay but...maybe a crumb of something? I suppose it's nice to know a misstep doesn't mean your life's in the lurch. Go ahead, squat on that dude's stomach! Nothing to fear. Then again, that photographer was pushing even the Berliner envelope.
Once again, I am practicing. "Entsch—" Oops, shut up, Lilan. "Tut mir—" Ack, relax. See, it doesn't matter what I do. They're gonna stare at me regardless.
Lilan
That stare stuff drove me KRAZY in Germany when I was there 10 years ago.
It has a lot of judgement and entitlement wrapped up in it I think.
Anyways, good luck with that.
luv you
micha
Posted by: micha | September 01, 2007 at 08:10 PM