Ceci n'est pas une endive

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Wednesday, April 23 2008

Choosing a Name: The First Name

I never got around to telling the story of our daughter's name. It is, indeed, one heck of a story, which starts even before she was born. You have to remember that she has a German father and a French mother. This led, before her birth, to endless dicussions about what names are suitable in both languages. We had a few criteria we tried to respect when choosing her first name.

The first criterion was pronunciation. We wanted to make sure that the name would not vary to much from one language to the other. This rules out all the names having very specific pronuciations, such as names starting with "J" for example, which the Germans make soft (as in yum) or "H", which the French tend to forget to pronounce altogether (Hans is "Ans" in French, and "Hans" in German).

Pronunciation is one thing, but spelling is another, which is actually related. We couldn't take a name that people couldn't read in one or the other language. This ruled out my favorite "Benoît" (Ben-o-wha in French, Ben-o-it for the Germans) and names with French nasals or specific French spellings (Agnès is read A-ni-es in French, Ag-ness in German, I find on nice, the other one not so).

Another criterion was ambiguity. Some names are very easily recognizable as female or male, others are just extremely ambiguious in one language, when they are not in the other. Again, Delphine is very French, but never leads to confusion about the gender. Arne, on the other end, written or spoken, for people who are neither Swedish, nor Northern Germans, is often mistaken for a woman's name. So we needed a name that would be very clear.

And finally of course, a name we both liked. Which is, as we found out, probably the hardest thing of all. Not som much because we have different tastes, but because cultural differences kick in very fast. The German sounding names I liked were either terrible, out of fashion, too fashionable or plainly unheard of, the French sounding name Arne liked were either terrible, out of fashion, too fashionable or plainly unheard of. Funny to see how much culture the name carries.

Well, we settled for the first name Emma, classic, simple, read and pronounced in most languages in exactly the same manner, hardly ambiguous, and which we both liked. It took us around nine months... And then came the last name. But this will do for another post.

Thursday, December 20 2007

The Credit Card Hell

I have already tackled one of the aspects that sometimes makes me think that Germany is a backwards country. I mean, don't get me wrong, it's an OK backwards country, but there are a few things that just drive me nuts. One of those is the fact that having a credit card in Germany is like owning a useless piece of plastic.

Some will tell me that credit cards *are* in any case, a useless piece of plastic. But seriously, how can a country like Germany still not have taken the necessary steps to be tourist compliant? I just don't get it.

I know France is rather advanced in the plastic-money business, as are the US. But I have been travelling all over Europe, and Germany strikes me really as the most backwards country when it comes to using credit cards. Actually, even when it comes to using paying cards, period.

Let's try a desciption here.

On my French account, I have a debit card which *also* acts as a credit card (VISA), In French, it's called a Carte Bleue (blue card). With one bank account, I can have just one card, which acts both as a debit and credit card. I pay a monthly fee to hold that card, depending on the level of automnomy, credit and other things I want with that card. I can use it in France of course, but also everywhere in the world where Visa is accepted. I use it to withdraw cash in France as well as anywhere else. The fees on payments made with that card around the world are about 2%, I can withdraw cash everywhere for a small change fee, and I can withdraw cash in France or in the euro zone for no fee (up to 5 withdrawals a month not at my bank). The payments made with that card are withdrawn either right on the spot or at the end of the month, depending on the specificities of my contract.

On my German account, I have a Maestro card (called EC Karte) which works *only* as a debit card. I also have a credit card (in this case a Mastercard), which is a separate piece of plastic. I can use my EC-Karte to withdraw cash, however, if I use a different ATM than that of my bank (Naspa) or - fortunately- of all Sparkassen I immediately pay a fee of 5 euros to withdraw cash. Fee which I pay automatically as soon as I withdraw money anywhere else than Germany. It's worse with my credit card, the fee is 5 to 8 euros to use an ATM for cash *anywhere*, even in Germany. The payments made with my EC-Karte are withdrawn on the spot, the payments made with my credit card are withdrawn at the end of the month, with a change fee for international payments. I pay a monthly fee to hold that card.

This already shows you the differences. One card, little fee on the one hand, two cards, outrageous fees on the other hand. But that wouldn't be so bad if you could actually *use* those two cards. Well, in Germany, you can't. Or you hardly can.

It first struck me while standing in line at a Mediamarkt. There was a guy in front of me who bought a computer, something around 1000 euros altogether. And he was paying it with cash. As I was looking at the bills line up on the counter, I couldn't believe that anyone would

  1. carry so much cash on them
  2. even bother to collect and count the cash for such a sum.

But there it was, in front of me. And that is where I realized that Mediamarkt does not take credit cards. I mean, they take EC-Karte, but they don't take credit cards. Which basically means, if you're in Germany just when the last iPod comes out and you can't wait and want it right away, either you got a German account, or you gotta have the cash. Don't even dream of arriving with your Visa or Mastercard or American Express, all gold and international. You'll get a polite "we don't take credit cards". Punkt, Ende, aus. And guess what. IKEA does the same. "No credit cards". I find that, as a French who travels all the time, completely incongruous. Actually, I find that insane. I mean, I could understand that the little shop around the corner does not take credit cards, but for Heaven's sake, Mediamarkt and IKEA? I mean, it's not like you're going to IKEA to buy for much less than a 100 euros. And you usually come out of Mediamarkt with at least the same amount woth of wares.

Now, I've been in Germany two years, so although it still drives me nuts, I am getting used to it. But two days ago, I found reason to get mad again. I went to Mc Donalds. A huge, big enormous Mc Donalds, open 24/7, so full that you never find a place to park. And I didn't have any cash. And when I don't have cash in this country, I don't feel good (because I know that cards are seldom accepted), but I thought, come on, Mc Donalds, American imperialism, blablabla, surely they take credit cards. Still. I asked. Well guess what, they don't. But worse, it's not only that they don't take credit cards. They don't take cards at all. Only cash. Cash only. You'd think that given the number of tourists who end up in a Mc Donalds, Mc Donalds would make an exception.

But no. The German economy is shaped for Germans. No-one else. Tourists go home, because we won't adapt to your ways. I find this credit card no man's land totally unfriendly. You can't go to Mc Donalds, you can't go to a restaurant, drink a coffee, you can't go to a supermarket, you can't pay for all these things with a supposedly "international means of payment". If you're not German and have the right EC-Karte, or don't carry bills and coins in your pocket, you're doomed. For someone like me, brought up to carry around as little cash as possible, it's hell. Surely there is a reason behind this. But I don't get it. One day I might investigate.

On the other hand, you can pay with a credit card for a Twix in pretty much any gas station across the country. Go figure.

Ah and I almost forgot. McDonalds is having their annual game thing with Monopoly. Guess who's one of the main partners for the prizes? VISA! What a joke.Monopoly by Mc Donalds

Friday, December 14 2007

The Toilet in the Bathroom

We've just moved appartments. Apart from the fact that we now have double the surface, there is one very important thing to me, French woman, in this new appartment, and that is the toilet.

In Germany, toilets (except in restaurants) are in the bathroom. Ouch, with the common use of bathroon as a word for toilet in American English, I realize this is rather confusing. So let us agree on a definition here:

Toilet in this post is going to be the seat you sit on to do your thing,

while bathroom is going to be the room that contains, among others, a shower or a bathtub and a sink where you brush your teeth at night.

This agreed upon, let's go back to our toilets. So. In Germany, every single bathroom I have seen has a toilet. The reverse is not true, in the sense that there are houses (and restaurants), where there is also (keyword here being "also") a toilet in... well, a toilet room, by itself.

So we moved, and in this new appartment of ours, there is a "guest toilet" (Gästeklo), that is a toilet in a room by itself. And for me, French, this is great. I must say that I simply hate toilets in the bathroom. To me, the toilet is the seat of foul odors, whereas the bathroom is the place for soap and eau de toilette, i.e. it smells good. So having someone shit (pardon my French) in my bathroom is something I utterly dislike. My parents' home have two toilets, and two bathrooms, all of which are separated (so four rooms total, 16 walls). I don't like someone shitting in my bathroom, no more than I like someone looking at my destroyed toothbrush, or browsing through my towels, or even disliking my eau de toilette. In short, shitting and cleaning oneself are to me two different activities, as different as cooking and sleeping, which usually don't happen in the same room (except in small Parisian studios, but that's another story).

So while we were reviewing the different rooms of our new appartment, I told my German man that we could for example get rid of the toilet in the bathroom to gain space and us that to put a wardrobe, or a shelf, in any case something useful.

His look froze me on the spot.

- You mean get rid of the toilet in the bathroom?
- Yes, that's exactly what I mean.
- Can't do.
- What do you mean, can't do?
- It just can't happen. A bathroom without a toilet is not a bathroom, at least, not here in Germany.

And how can you answer this? You can't. Implacable cultural reality. There's no bathroom in Germany without a toilet. So I'll have to live with it.