Ceci n'est pas une endive - Tag - Deutschland

Eingewöhnungsphase

notafish — Mon, 26 Mar 2012 11:05:00 +0200

La "phase d'acclimatation" (eingewöhnungsphase) est une phase pendant laquelle la mère qui laisse son enfant à la crèche ou à la maternelle se doit d'être présente, afin que l'enfant s'habitue sans heurt à son nouvel environnement. En Allemagne, elle peut durer jusqu'à deux ou trois semaines...

Es gibt eine Menge zu sagen, was der Status der Frau in Deutschland angeht. Eigentlich könnte ich ein ganzes Blog nur dazu schreiben. Aber nehmen wir das ein nach dem anderen. Heute sprechen wir über eine sehr interessante Sache, die mir einfach so fremd ist, dass ich nicht ein Mal weiss, wie ich darüber berichten kann.

Die Eingewöhnungsphase. Ich habe Glück gehabt, weil ich, als meine Tochter geboren wurde, eine Spitze Tagesmutter gefunden habe. Eine Tagesmutter die mich nicht komisch angeguckt hat, wenn ich gesagt habe, dass ich meine Tochter gerne mit 3 Monate bei Ihr den ganzen Tag lassen wollte. Aber nicht jeder in Deutschland hat dieses Glück. Seitdem meine Tochter zur Schule (und ja, ich weiss, das ist bei euch Kindergarten, und nicht Schule, aber bei uns ist das die Schule, Punkt. Aus.) geht, habe ich eine Menge französische Mütter kennengelernt, die ihre Kinder (die kleinere) in eine Kita gemacht haben. Und die jeden Tag seit ich weiss nicht wie viele Tagen, sogar Wochen, ihr Vormittag in der Kita verbringen, um ihr Kind einzugewöhnen (läuft dem eigentlichen Zweck zuwider oder?).

Lass uns doch eine Sache feststellen. Ich bin französin. Das macht mich per Definition eine Rabenmutter. Das Wort existiert gar nicht auf französisch, was schon eine Menge sagt, was das Konzept angeht. Am schlimmsten in Frankreich bist du eine "unwürdige Mutter", wir haben dazu kein spezielles Wort. Ich bin keine Feministin im engen Sinne des Wortes, aber Kinder, eine Karriere, Freunden, und ein eigenes Leben alles zusammen ist etwas, was ich mir schon gut für mich vorstellen kann. Ganz normal in Frankreich, nicht so in Deutschland. Aber Zurück zur Sache.

Die Eingewöhnungsphase ist eine Phase, in der du dein Kind zur Kita oder zur Tagesmutter bringst, und dabei bleibst, um sicher zu stellen, dass das Kind sich an die Kita/Tagesmutter gewöhnt. Theoretisch gar nicht schlecht. Ich kann mir sehr gut vorstellen, dass es Kinder gibt, die es schwierig finden, getrennt von Maman zu sein (und kann mir auch noch besser vorstellen, dass es Mütter gibt, die es schwierig finden, vom Söhnchen getrennt zu sein). Also, ein Paar Stunden zusammen in der neuen Umgebung zu verbringen finde ich gar nicht verkehrt. Aber jeden Tag 15 Minuten mehr als der Tag vorher in der Kita zu verbringen (rein theoretisch, wenn du vor hast, dein Kind ein ganzer Tag in der Kita zu lassen, wir das eine ganze 20 Tage dauern, oder so), um fest zu stellen, dass dein Kind nach der ersten Stunde schon ganz happy mit den anderen Kinder spielt, und dich gar nicht angeguckt hat ist, to say the least, ein Bißchen viel. Wovor fürchten sich die Kita Leute? Dass das Kind weint? Hallo! das macht ein Kind jeder andere Tag auf irgendwelchen Grund, von Mittelohrentzündung bis zum "Mein Bruder hat mir den Legostein genommen!". Eine Mutter hat heute erzählt, dass sie sogar 3 Studen in der Kita verbracht hat, während ihr Kind mit anderen Kinder ganz friedlich im Nebenraum gespielt hat, "nur für den Fall...". Arrrrrgh. DREI Stunden. Ohne Computer, ohne Leben. Du sitzt da und wartest... nur für den Fall. Unglaublich. Als Mutter finde ich mich eigentlich gar nicht so schlecht geeignet, um nach einer Stunde beurteilen zu können, ob mein Kind sich wohl oder schlecht fühlt. Aber nein. Hier ist die Eingewöhnungsphase was es ist. Du kommst nicht herum (ausser wenn du eine Spitze Tagesmutter findest, die selbst 7 Kinder erzogen hat, und ohne Eingewöhnungsphase klar kommt). Und nicht nur in der Kita, sondern auch in Kindergarten.

Als wir in der französische Schule einen Info-Aben gemacht haben irgendwann letztes Jahr, haben uns die Lehrerinen schon davor gewarnt: "Hier ist eine französische Schule. Sie kommen, lassen das Kind, und gehen. Wir sind zwar in Deutschland, aber es gibt keine Eingewöhnungsphase. Punkt. Aus." Ich fand es sehr lustig, wie sie das durch den Abend mehrmals betonnt haben, ich vermute, sie haben schon Probleme gehabt, mit Eltern, die das gar nicht verstehen könnten. Ehrlich gesagt, hätte ich nicht gewusst, wie es in Deutschland funktionniert, hätte ich gar nicht verstanden, warum sie das sagen... Aber es wurde festgestellt, ich bin eine Rabenmutter...

Mère Indigne, Gemälde bei meiner Cousine Hortense Garand, mit ihrer Zustimmung hier benutzt. Sie macht echt coole Sachen, ihr solltet ihre Webseite besuchen :D

Radio Trafic

notafish — Mon, 19 Mar 2012 09:55:00 +0100

En Allemagne, toutes les radios, de la plus grande à la plus petite, donnent des infos sur le trafic et ce au moins une fois par heure, quand ce n'est pas plus. Du coup, on a parfois plus de trafic que de musique ou d'actualités.

Es gibt eine Sache, die ich in Deutschland wirklich vermisse. Das Radio. In Frankreich gibt es eine Unmenge von "Talk Radios". France Inter, Europe 1, RTL. Und dann haben wir auch eine Unmenge von eher thematische Musik Radios. Jung, alt, 80er, 90er, 60er sogar, allgemein, etc. Und wir haben ein (1, una, une) Radio, was Verkehr angeht. Radio Trafic, oder Autoroute Info, wie auch immer das jetzt heisst. Ganz am Ende der Bandbreite (gegen 107.7 oder so), eigentlich regional eher als national, das Radio sagt dir genau wo der nächste Stau ist, und wie du den umfährst. In Deutschland aber, jeder Sender ist ein Radio Trafic. Die Zeit, die auf Verkehrsnachrichten verbracht wird ist einfach...crazy. Du bekommst jede Stunde mindestens 5 Minuten Verkehrsnachrichten, und Programme werden unterbrochen, um zu sagen, dass "A66, ein defektes LKW befindet sich auf der rechten Spur, bitte fahren Sie vorsichtig" oder "auf der A661 kommt ein Fahrzeug entgegen, bitte fahren Sie vorsichtig" (Ja, viele entgegende Fahrer in Deutschland, ganz strange). Lustig ist aber, wenn es um Ente geht, die auf der Fahrban rum rennen. Nicht so lange her waren Kühen auf der Fahrbahn, irgendwo in Hessen. Ich gebe es zu, manchmal ist das Verkehrsradio sehr lustig.

Natürlich fährt man in Deutschland viel mehr als in Frankreich. Es gibt so viele Autobahn wie Haare auf meinem Kopf, und Städte bis zum geht nicht mehr, die neben einander liegen. Verkehr ist so wichtig, dass es sogar Umleitungen^[1] gibt, die geschildert und nummeriert (!) sind. In Frankreich bist du ganz alleine (und vielleicht auch mit deinem Handy oder deine Navi, die die Spezielle "Staufunktion" haben) um einen anderen Weg zu finden. In Deutschland brauchst du nur die U Schildern zu folgen, wie dein Radio dir gesagt hat, um einen Stau umzufahren (und wahrscheinlich in einen anderen Stau rein zu fahren - aber das ist eine andere Geschichte).

Aber trotzdem, Mensch, so viel verkehr im radio ist... einfach zu viel. Bei France Inter oder France Info wirst du nur den Verkehr in grossen Städte raus finden, und so in den Rush Hours (7.00-9.00 und 17.00-19.00 oder so, nicht mehr), was dir eigentlich nicht wirklich hilft, wenn du in Carcassonne in deinem Auto sitzt und 20 Minuten am Kreisel verbringen musst, aber mir ist es wirklich genug. Und bei der Musik Sender kriegst du vom Verkehr eher gar nichts mit.

Ich vermisse wirklich ein Verkehrsfreies Radio, ein Radio das dir erlaubt, zu vergessen, dass du im Stau sitzt.

Notes

[1] Wikipedia hat sogar einen Artikel dazu, der nicht auf Französisch existiert ;)

Die quadratische Quiche

notafish — Mon, 02 Jan 2012 12:20:00 +0100

Une nouvelle série sur la vie en Allemagne, les allemands et la langue allemande. En allemand. Première partie : la quiche :)

Also, dieses Blogpost sollte:

meine Schulden bei den Ironblogger Berlin irgendwie ein Bißchen runter halten
der Start einer neuen Serie von Blogposts auf Deutsch sein. Ja, auf Deutsch. Ich bin mir nicht ein Mal sicher, dass es überhaupt deutschsprachige Leute die dieses Blog lesen gibt, aber wir werden es Mal versuchen. Vielleicht, wenn ich es wirklich schaffe, werde ich sogar ein eigenes Blog für die quadratische Quiche Serie eröffnen, aber da ich schon zwei Wochen im Ironblogger Berlin Contest bin, und kein Blogpost geschrieben habe, könnte man das ernshaft bezweifeln.

Na gut. Warum die Quadratische Quiche? Eine Sache, die das irgendwo-anders-leben echt schwierig macht, ist das Kochen. Wie so? Kochen, bzw. essen ist (zu mindest für eine Französin, die essen und kochen mag) ein grosser Teil einer Kultur. Und die französische Kultur ist sowieso mit Essen eng verbunden. Also, für jemanden, wie ich, der kochen mag, ist die Möglichkeit "wie zu Hause" zu kochen eine echt wichtige Sache. Meine erste Erfahrung mit dem im Ausland kochen war in den USA. Ehrlich gesagt, das war... die Hölle. Ich wollte eine Zitrone Tarte machen (ha! Deutsch hat das französiches Wort gestolen!). Für die braucht man Butter. Ganz normale Butter. Wie in... Butter ohne Salz. Damals (1989) unsalziges Butter war in New Mexico nicht zu finden. Anyway. Zurück zur Quiche.

Da ich eher eine lazy Köchin bin, habe ich von meiner Mutter mir die leichtesten Rezepte gemerkt. Die Rezepte, die man unter 30 Minuten in guten Essen umwandeln kann. Darunter ist ein super gutes und super einfaches Quiche Rezept. Wie in "Quiche Lorraine"^[1]. Eine Quiche ist in 15 Minuten gemacht, in ungefähr 30 Minuten gebacken, füttert eine Familie von vier locker, und ist einfach lecker. A winner für die lazy Köchin. Ich muss dazu geben, dass ich den Teig nicht selbst mache, weil Blätterteig viel zu kompliziert ist, aber unsere Zeiten sind so, dass man kann in jedem Supermarkt fertigen Blätterteig kaufen kann.

Aber... in Deutschland, Blätterteig wird für alles, ausser eine Quiche benutzt. Ich vermute das häufigste Gericht, was man in Deutschland mit Blätterteig macht, ist Apfelstrudel, oder so was ähnliches. Und daher ist der Teig, den man im Supermarkt findet, quadratisch. Eigentlich eher rechteckig, aber das ist ein Detail. Und eine Quiche, wenn sie Quiche heissen will, muss (wie in muss, nicht sollte) rund sein. Rund. Wie die Sonne, der volle Mond oder einen Fußball. Nicht quadratisch. Nicht rechteckig. No way. Ich habe lange gesucht. Rewe, damals Tengelmann, Aldi usw. Kein runder Teig. Pech gehabt. Aber OK, ich bin Französin, habe mich entschieden, nach Deutschland auszuwandern, ich muss damit leben können. Aber eine quadratisch Quiche? Das ist echt schwer. Besonders weil ich eigentlich nur eine runde Form für die Quiche habe. Gut, ich bin einfallsreich ^[2] und kann mich anpassen an die kommische Kochenart der Deutschen. Ich kaufe trotzdem den quadratischen Teig. Und mache ihn rund. Schere und hop. So ist die Quiche eine echte Quiche, und damit meine Integrität als französiche Köchin behaltet. Und dazu gewinnt man auch ein paar Ecken um kleinen Käse Croissants zu machen.

Ich würde trotzdem ganz gerne wissen, warum der Blätterteig in Deutschland rechteckig ist. Macht ihr keine Quiche? Oder habe ich nur die falsche Supermärkte in meiner Nähe? Na gut, ihr könnt das Rezept von der Quiche meiner Mutter bei Lyzzy finden. Ich werde nur dazu sagen, dass der Käse in der Quiche darf kein Gouda sein (ich weiss, Gouda war nur eine Maßgabe für den richtigen Käse) :P. Bei Rewe findet man einen echt guten Meule d'Or geriebenen Emmental für den Zweck, macht die Quiche noch französischer.

Notes

[1] Wir werden gleich bitte die ganze Debatte: "Lothringen ist aber kaum Frankreich, und fasst schon Deutschland" gleich hier halten, die Quiche ist französich, Wikipedia hat's gesagt :P

[2] Das Wort habe ich aus Leo, hoffe es passt. "Voll gute Ideen" oder so.

Faute de grammaire, on mange de la dessert

notafish — Sat, 29 Aug 2009 01:55:00 +0200

It is probably a marketing trick to be using French sounding names in countries where French is not spoken. Especially for food. The "Cuisine flair, I suppose". But what really really bothers me, is when marketing does not check its grammar and ends up using the wrong gender for a word, or making a pathetic spelling and grammar mistake. Two examples in Germany, where the gender of "dessert" has been changed, or where a mousse-like dessert is called Crème Composé when it should be Crème ComposéE.

J'ai toujours eu l'impression, à tort ou à raison, que le français jouissait d'une place particulière en Allemagne. Pas seulement en Allemagne d'ailleurs, un peu partout dans le monde. Du coup, il est utilisé dans un peu tous les domaines. Et plus particulièrement dans celui de la cuisine et de la nourriture. J'imagine que la cuisine française donne une image plutôt positive d'elle même et que donc par extension, utiliser le français quand on parle de nourriture permet de donner une image positive d'un produit.

Depuis quelques mois, la télévision allemande fait de la pub pour un dessert, dont le nom est "La Dessert". Et je dois avouer que cette grossière erreur de grammaire me hérisse le poil. Bien sûr, on peut imaginer que l'erreur n'en est pas une, mais plutôt un néologisme bidon destiné à permettre le dépôt de la marque. Je me dis que si ce "néologisme" avait été pensé par une marque française, je trouverais peut-être cela très spirituel. Mais du fait que ce produit soit exclusivement allemand, je ne peux m'empêcher de penser que les marketeux ont tout simplement mal fait leur boulot et qu'en voulant faire "français", ils ont sorti ce nom de leur chapeau sans penser plus avant.

Voilà pourtant que la semaine dernière, en faisant mes courses, je trouve dans les rayons de mon supermarché un nouveau produit (marque du distributeur, en l'occurrence REWE, le Leclerc du coin, genre) qui me fait à nouveau bondir. La crème composé (sic), si elle est fort bonne, me fait mal à l'oeil et à la grammaire. Il lui manque un "e" salutaire, que ma bonne âme de française qui corrigeait à l'école les dictées de ses copains a du mal à digérer (la crème elle, était bonne). Cela s'écrit "Crème composéE", bande de mauvais !

Je suppose qu'il y a des milliers d'exemples de grammaire hachée et torturée pour les besoins du marketing, mais ceux-là sont dans mon quotidien et ils m'énervent.

Job Hunting: How Culturally Unconventional Can You Be?

notafish — Mon, 01 Jun 2009 12:51:00 +0200

La façon de répondre à une annonce pour un travail, si elle comporte dans plusieurs pays des composantes équivalentes (la lettre de motivation, le CV), comporte aussi des éléments spécifiques à la culture et au pays. Pourtant, je me dis que si je devais répondre à une annonce en Allemagne, je serai bien en peine de faire une candidature "dans les règles". Je crois, du coup, que je tenterai de répondre en étant calire sur le fait que mon parcours international m'empêche d'être conventionnelle dans ma candidature...

I've always wondered if I could find a job in Germany. Not so much because of my competence or lack thereof, but rather about whether I could, or couldn't, conform to the German way of answering a job ad.

Answering a job ad, in the countries where I've looked at it (mainly US, Germany and France) has a rather similar structure. Cover letter and CV are the core components. Basically, these are a letter stating why you're the best person for the job and a list of the positions you've occupied in the past X years.

However, there are rather important cultural differences to the way you do it. Not to mention that the recrudescence of social networks and other online tools needs to be thrown into the bargain, as it has somewhat changed the way of doing things.

The last time I applied for a job in a somewhat conventional way was probably about 6 years ago, in France. Which probably is a completely outdated way of doing it. I had the name of someone to send my application to, sent a cover letter, my CV and went on to an interview. Pretty simple and straightforward.

Here in Germany, I've watched with interest as my man was looking for a job, and how he was going about it. The "conventional" way of doing it in Germany is, apart from the CV and cover letter, to join to your application what the Germans call "Zeugnisse". The way I understood them, "Zeugnisse" are recommendations, of sorts. but not exactly. They are letters from the people you worked for, which reformulate the position you've occupied and tell how good you were in it. The further back you can go, the better. Which, for someone with a varied career, might amount to a lot of paper.

In the US, as I understand it, recommendations can be from virtually anyone. Your bosses of course, your colleagues, but also your friends (the more titles they can boast of the better) and why not, your family. Something that I believe is completely inconcievable in Germany. You probably would never ask a friend to write a Zeugnis for you.

In France, recommendations are (were?) definitely not the norm. While the "anglo-saxon" application has certainly taken on in the past few years, the diplomas you can align and the great names you can drop within your CV offer a much better chance of being noticed than having your Harvard-friend write a recommendation for you.

So the question is, how would I apply to a job here in Germany? I could of course go and read a whole load of online resources ^[1]about how to Zeugnisse should be written, or how to write your cover letter, and even how to organize your CV. But I'm thinking it would be conforming to something I am not, having worked in different countries, different fields and many different companies, for so many different customers. I'm thinking that in this ever changing and challenging global work market, being yourself, even if that means being culturally unconventional, is probably a better way to go about it. I probably couldn't produce many Zeugnisse (who knows what my boss from 10 years ago in France has become in 10 years?), but I can detail what I did and when, and even better, I can actually reflect on what I have done and what it has brought me for my job today. I would even say that being French, while I am sure that I am the right person for the job, I am not sure that the documents I provide are those that are expected, but that I am open to providing more information if needed. In short, I would try and be myself, rather than try and fit in a predefined frame.

I guess I have faith in recruiters, if they're looking for someone to do a job, they're not looking for anyone that can do that job and can lay it out on paper, but rather for someone who can reflect and think on what their experience is bringing to the table.

And frankly, in a world where a (the best) job can be had ^[2] with such applications, I do think there is potential for unconventional.

What's your experience with international applications?

Notes

[1] Those resources were chosen with a quick google search, I can't say anything about whether they're good or bad

[2] More info on The Best Job in The World in this BBC article

Quand la pub joue avec les stéréotypes culturels

notafish — Mon, 18 May 2009 15:15:00 +0200

I found it funny to find an ad in the last Géo issue, which appealed to the stereotypes that French people have about Americans and Germans. An intercultural ad if there was ever any. The ad is for an American-style refrigerator and the tagline reads "tall, cold and ecologist. No doubt, this American is German".

Cet après-midi, en buvant mon café, j'ai feuilleté le dernier numéro de Géo sur l'Islande. Comme souvent quand je lis un magazine, je me suis arrêtée sur certaines pubs et notamment sur une publicité pour un réfrigérateur Bosch. Je suppose que ce sont les mots "américain" et "allemand" qui ont attiré mon attention.

J'ai parlé ailleurs des stéréotypes et de l'intérêt qu'il y avait à en avoir. Cette pub fait appel, selon moi, à plusieurs stéréotypes, impliquant trois nationalités.

D'abord, il faut garder à l'esprit que la pub s'adresse à un public francophone (peut-être même français). La référence aux allemands et aux américains est donc par défaut teintée culturellement.

Mon interprétation : Pour le français, le stéréotype de l'allemand est souvent celui d'une personne de grande taille, d'abord plutôt froid et souvent porté sur l'écologie. Pour le même français, le stéréotype de l'américain est aussi celui d'une personne de grande taille (tout est démesuré aux États-Unis), d'un abord plutôt chaleureux mais assez peu intéressé par tout ce qui touche à l'environnement. On trouve donc dans le slogan trois stéréotypes, l'un commun aux deux pays et deux autres contraires dans les deux pays.

Ce que je trouve très fort ici, c'est l'équilibre entre l'utilisation des stéréoptypes positifs et négatifs. Ni l'allemand, ni l'américain ne sont dépeints de façon toute négative ou toute positive. On a :

grand = stéréotype commun
froid=stéréotype négatif pour une personne (ici l'allemand), mais bon pour un réfrigérateur
son contraire chaleureux=stéréotype positif suggéré pour l'américain
et enfin écolo=stéréotype ni vraiment positif, ni vraiment négatif, puisque "écolo" est teinté politiquement et culturellement et peut avoir, suivant l'interprétation qu'on en fait, une connotation positive (respectueux de l'environnement) ou plus négative (écolo militant qui casse des McDo).

Je ne sais pas si cette pub me ferait acheter un réfrigérateur, mais culturellement, je la trouve extrêmement bien faite.

Choosing a Name: The Last Name

notafish — Wed, 28 Jan 2009 10:40:00 +0100

Choisir un nom de famille pour son enfant. Il fut un temps où la chose était plutôt simple, mais la loi et les mouvements migratoires font de ce qui pourrait être une aventure simple un parcours du combattant. Entre le double nom et les doubles tirets, donner un nom de famille à notre fille aura été une vraie gageure.

Now, the first part of this was a long time ago. It was about the First Name. Here comes the story of the Last Name, prompted by the fact that I got my daughter's German passport a few weeks ago.

You'd think that having chosen the first name, we'd be done. But no. Even the last name is a culturally tainted venture, which bears in itself much more trouble than one would think, and not only cultural trouble.

Most of our societies are rather patriarcal. You get the name of your father. Even the ones that sometimes think themselves much more open and allow women to keep their names really are patriarchal. Take Portugal, which collates both the father's and the mother's name in a unique new name. This ends up in children having different names from that of their parents. Which isn't understood by French authorities, at least a few years back, who had no idea how to take care of my French cousin marrying a Portuguese man and which name was really his (different from both of his parents).

In Germany, you're only allowed to give the name of the father or the name of the mother. Not both. Fortunately, Germany recognizes foreign laws when it comes to names. In France, the law changed with a text passed in 2002 (that came into force in 2005) which basically opens a whole new realm of possibilities for last name transmission. Following French law, you can now give to your children either your name, that of your partner, or both together (in both the order you--him or him--you). The catch is the double hyphen that comes into play. Yes, you read that well, a double hyphen.

Now, it seems that French law requires this double hyphen ^[1] if both parents' names are chosen. It will allow the kid to drop one or the other name when they marry or have kids (for more information, see here, in French).

When we declared our daughter, we asked for the double hyphen. No need to say that the German authorities were a little puzzled about this rather freaky way of writing a name (an accent on my last name was already quite a challenge). But the German Ministry of the Interior had issued a text about that French specificity, which allowed us to get that straightened out. Our daughter's birth certificate displays the double-hyphen. And so does her German passport, which is quite a victory, since when I went to fill out the papers for her to have a passport, the woman at the desk did make it very clear that although she would try and see what she could do concerning my accent (on which I was very set), there was no way she could enter a double-hyphen in the system. We have indeed signed a disclaimer when we registered our kid that said we were aware of the fact that this funky double-hyphen might not be reproduced on official papers so I was prepared. And amazed when I saw that the passport bore both hyphens.

I am kind of looking forward how this name pattern plays out in the future. I am happy to have been able to give my name to my daughter, I am not sure she'll find that so cool when it comes to filling out administrative papers... Time will tell.

Notes

[1] I have come across a quick note which seems to say that this is not the case anymore... go figure. [edit] see here this relatively short ticker which confirms this, and this article pointed out by keriluamox in the comments

Of Values and Grades

notafish — Mon, 06 Oct 2008 10:02:00 +0200

A few days ago, as I was surfing along the message board The Local, I ended up on this survey (which I can't take, cos I'm too old, *pout*). So I browsed the different questionnaires, to see.

One thing struck me about the value scales (1 to 5) and how the 1 was to represent the worst and the 5 the best. I was wondering whether this was not problematic for some people. The Germans, for example, have a value scale of 1 to 6 in school, 1 being the best, and 6 being the worst. The French note system goes on a scale of 10 or 20, 0 being the worst and 10 or 20 being the best. I've realized that when I take a poll, I tend to be confused when the answers proposed use number scales that don't fit with my way of grading (ie. the best being the highest number, the worst the smallest). This said, it is usually easier to get away from my inherited scale values as there are rarely scales over 10 or 20 levels. So I asked my partner whether a value scale of 1 to 5 would confuse him if it was backwards (he's German). He said that as long as there weren't 6 levels, he would actually expect to use 1 as the worst value, I would have thought the contrary.

In the same line of thought, I've always found it very funny that one of the most common marketing argument here in Germany is the result that a product got at the Stiftung Wahrentest. On products, you find a little label^[1] that tells you how well the product fared in the tests. These tests rate products following the German grading system. I must say that at the beginning, in my French mind, a product which got a note of 2 didn't really prompt a positive reaction, on the contrary. I also realize that the subtleties of the number after the coma are lost on me. The French system usually only allows for half points, so a 2,4 translates automatically into a 2,5 for me, or a 1,6 into a 2, etc.

What's interesting here is how values which are in objectively the same (a 2 is a two, whatever the language and the country) are affected by subjective and unconscious values shaped by education, language and culture.

As an aside note, a search through the different possible layouts of this label is also very interesting, as it shows that depending on the note the product obtained, the actual number will be displayed or not. When a note of 1 to 2 is obtained, the number is usually displayed, when the note is closer to 2,4, it's usually "forgotten". Nice marketing trick.

Note

[1] label image from Wikipedia with a funky licence

Holy state! the Church got me (again)

notafish — Tue, 29 Jan 2008 15:32:00 +0100

Well, here is the sequel to my very interesting story about the German Church getting a hold of me.

Actually, I probably need to rectify something. It is not so much the Church that got me, but the German State. So let me explain the next steps.

When I saw that the Finanzamt (Tax office) was ready to take away this "Church tax" on top of my normal taxes, I appealed. And said that I ws never told, as I registered at the townhall when I arrived in Germany, that checking that little box would make me a catholic in the eyes of... the State. I called the Finanzamt, talked with the person in charge of my file for a while, she was pretty comprehensive and said Well, why don't you write this down and send it to me, we'll see what the next step is. Which I did. That was back in November sometime. I finally got an answer a few days ago, which went something like:

According to § 5 Alinea 1 sentence 1 of the Church tax law, the obligation to pay church taxes starts on the first day of month following the date at which you have registered your residence. ... Since you have registered on the 15th of JUly 2005 and did not register your lack of confession (keine Konfessionslosigkeit), Church taxes are due as of the 1st of August 2005.

As the Germans say: Pech gehabt! (Too bad...). There is one thing that totally strikes me here, it is that they don't say "since you have registered that you were a catholic", no no, they say "since you have not registered that you were without confession". I find the phrasing (a double negation) at best uncomprehensible, at least quite ambguous. But it goes back to what I said in my earlier post, which is that basically, I failed to prove my innocence, so I'm guilty.

Well, receiveing this letter, which basically discarded the explanation I had given (ie. "I am French, in France we don't do this, when I registered, I was not made aware of the consequences of my checking that box etc.), I tried to see what I could do. Answer from my accountant: Two options. Either you can make the Town's administration change the check box by convincing them that you weren't aware of the consequences, or you have to take the necessary steps to get out of the Church..

Well, I tried the first option. And heard in so many words from the woman who registered me at the time (2 and a half years ago) that she had explained to me everything at thetime about the consequences of checking that little box. Guess what, she already had told the Finanzamt about the fact that she *always* explains to foreigners very exactly what that little box means. Huh? If that were the case, I don't see how much differently I could have understood the thing two years ago and today, and if I had been aware of the implications, I am not sure I would make all this fuss about it today. But you see, it's her word (German, civil servant) , against mine (French, freelancer, broken German). Tell you what, I've lost to start with.

So my only option was to get out of the church. This famous Church I never got in in the first place. Epic story if there ever was one.

In Hessen, you need to go to the Amtsgericht (municipal court) to "leave the Church" (or opt out, escape, resign, contract out...). When you get to the office "Kirchen Austritt", you need to provide an up to date registration form (the famous one I had checked wrongly), which means that basically, the one that you have checked in the first place is not valid anymore (go figure!). Once you have that, you are carefully read what you are doing 'in case you're not sure of what you are doing). You then have to pay 25,00 €, get a few signatures on the paper and you are finally out of the church, effective on that day.

So, 2 years and 6 months after not having entered the German Roman Catholic Church, I am finally out of it. And I must say that I am also angry at the German culture like I have never been before. I feel betrayed, used, disregarded in my culture and beliefs. I think it is the first time in my life that I am so bitter at one of those ever present administrative glitches, because the German State has coerced me into supporting a Church that I not only do not support, but have clearly not supported in more than 10 years.

One lesson learned, I will never again go to a German administration without a German speaker, or at least a dictionary, and I will make sure that I understand everything, or simply refuse to sign.

Another lesson learned, no matter what your feelings about how close to your culture another culture can be, make sure you are not missing a vital piece of information like " The Germans, when it comes to matters of religion, are 100 years behind the French".

A few remarks out of the blue:

It seems I am not the only one who finds those practices (mixing Church and State) unbelievable: other foreigners, believers or not believers, catholic or not have had the same reaction as mine
There are Germans that don't like the fact that the German State is so tied to the German Church (See the Save Yourselves The Church website)
If I had wanted to get married religiously before I actually "got out of the Church", the Church would have asked for a certificate of baptism from me not older than 6 months. Can someone explain to me how come it's enough to check a box in a State office to become a full-fledged (paying) member of the Church, but not enough to benefit from the Church's services? What is valid in one place should be valid everywhere. But no, when money is involved, the Church is not so demanding as when faith is involved.
In my first tax receipt, in 2005, since I had not earned any money and did not have to pay any taxes, the fact that I was "Kirchensteuerpflichtig" (ie. that I had to pay Church taxes) was not even mentionned on my tax return form.
Several conversations with Germans of different affiliations (believers, non-believers, politicians, non-politicians) have shown me that this tie between Church and State is much more than just a legal bound, it is a very strong social pressure. But I'll talk about this in another post, another day, when I am less angry.

The Credit Card Hell

notafish — Thu, 20 Dec 2007 13:34:00 +0100

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

carry so much cash on them
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.

The Toilet in the Bathroom

notafish — Fri, 14 Dec 2007 10:50:00 +0100

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.

German punctuality is overrated

notafish — Fri, 30 Nov 2007 07:43:00 +0100

I am pretty sure that if you ask anyone in the world to give you one cliché about the Germans, there's a pretty good chance that "The Germans are always on time" or "The Germans are very organized" will come up more than once. In any case, that's what French people would say.

And after two years and some living in Germany, I must say that this is rather true. Except for one thing. Doctors. Seriously.

I never really go to the doctor to start with, so I have little experience with wiating rooms altogether. To top that, my parents have enough doctors friends for me to have always been privileged and able to get a consultation between two other patients, or after hours. But still. In a country where punctuality is erected as a national sport, I can't believe the time I have been losing in the past few weeks in doctor's waiting rooms.

First, there's the doctor that follows up on the baby. I think he's the worst. We have an appointement at say... 8.30 in the morning. It's the first appointment of the day. Still, we never enter the consultation room before 9.15, at the earliest. I's not even that the doctor stays stuck in trafic or anything of the kind. Nope. He just is late. So we tried the middle of the day. Appointment at 15.30, got in at 16.30. One hour right there. The end of the day. Appointment at 18.00 you get in at 18.45. The problem is, even if you know that, you can't really arrive half an hour later, because then the next patient will have been here before you (i.e., you're considered "late") and they'll be seen before you. That's the Ordnung (the order) talking. You just don't go before someone who was here before you, whatever your appointment time is.

So I thought it was just this one doctor. But it's not. Went to the nose-ears-throat doctor, same thing. Even better actually. They told me I could go between two people (it was an emergency, my nose was bleeding like a fountain). So I sat there, and waited, thinking I woudl have to wait 5 minutes. Nope, there were 5 people before me. Insane. So I went again and came back with an appointment this time. I only waited an hour and 15 minutes. That one was tricky though, because they had two waiting areas. One waiting room, with magazines, and then the waiting corridor, where you have to wait another 20 minutes. And see someone who arrived after you actually enter the consultation room before you.

Two doctors could have been a coincidence. But I went to a third (yes, you'll notice that having a baby is a very doctory thing altogether). Same story. I would either get an appointment two weeks from now (again, for something that should really not wait), or come tomorrow between 10.00 and 11.00. Which I did. The waiting room was minuscule and stuffy, and after 40 minutes waiting there, I just felt sick and had to go. Fortunately, that one doctor is across the street from our appartment, so when the receptionist told me "You're on in 30 minutes", I said "ok, I'll come back then". Which I did. To wait another 10 minutes in the entrance and yet another 10 in the doctor's office. Incredible.

Needless to say that in the past few weeks, I have read lots in waiting rooms, and if I have learned one thing, it's that Germans are not all always on time.

Holy shit! The Church got me.

notafish — Tue, 20 Nov 2007 10:25:00 +0100

Or where cultural differences have legal roots.

This afternoon, my accountant calls me to tell me that the tax office has finally finished reviewing my tax declaration. And then she asks me this very personal (at least in my books) question: "Are you a catholic?". Now. The reality is, I've been raised in the catholic religion by my parents, went through the whole baptism, communion etc. I had my religious and mystic moments, but they went. As a matter of fact, although I still claim that my "beliefs" (for lack of a more accurate word) are shaped by the catholic religion, I lost faith about 10 years ago. It was abrupt, it was hurtful, also liberating and good. In short, I have not been a *good* catholic in 10 years. I have occasionally gone to church, I still believe in some kind of entity somewhere out there. An agnostic of sorts. But if people asked me: "Do you feel that you belong to the catholic Church today", I would say no. In fact, I tell you, no, I don't. But if people asked me what religion I am, I would probably answer that my beliefs are shaped by catholicism, or even that I am a catholic. Some kind of a cultural background. Problem is, what is really behind this question "What is your religion?"

Well, when I arrived in Germany, I had to register at the local administration. And they asked me what religion I was. I answered catholic. Big mistake, huge. To me, this was in the middle of tens of other questions such as how old are you, where were you born etc. In short, some kind of census information which would be used for statitstics. Nothing more, nothing less. Well no. In Germany, when you say you're a catholic, it has nothing to do with your beliefs, it has to do with your membership. The real question should be "What church are you a member of?". Because once you say you are a catholic, that's it, you're listed as one, receive papers from the local church, the this-and-that journal of the catholic church, in short, you're a member. And, last but not least, the State (yes, the laïc state), actually adds 8% taxes on your income tax at the end of the year, which will be distributed to the catholic church.

Mind you, I learned about that last year, when I did my tax declaration, and my tax adviser already asked me the question and listed the caveats associated with being a catholic in this country. To which of course I answered, I am "without confession", because well, it is the truth. So one year went by. I had no taxes to pay, so nobody really paid attention. This year it seems, there was money to take, so the tax office added those 8% to my total. And I don't want to pay them. Mind you, at this stage, it's not so much about the money, there isn't much to pay. It's about the principle. You see, I come from a country where the separation of State and Church occurred in 1905. And when we mean separation, we really mean separation, it is entrenched in our culture. The Church is on its own. And as a matter of fact, the French Catholic church appeals to its followers to help, through the "denier du culte" and other means to get money. In short, there is no tie between the State and the Church. and certainly no financial tie.

Now, the most interesting thing is, my accountant was trying to convince me that "this is the law". ie. that if I've said once that I am a catholic, I need to get a paper which proves that I am not. In short, you're guilty before you can be innocent. *I* am the one who has to prove that I am member of a church I never entered in the first place (at least in Germany), in order to leave that church. And I was trying to explain to her how shocking this forced membership is to me, and that if anyone had to prove anything, it should be the German State or the German Church which would have to prove that I am, indeed, a catholic and an active member of the Catholic church. I must say that to my French mind, the mere idea that by crossing inadvertently a checkbox one day makes me a life long member of the Catholic church is at best a big mistake, at worst an act of coercition. The joke being, that in Germany, to get "out" of the Church, you need to pay and make a whole lot of administrative steps which finally end up in the deliverance of a piece of paper which confirms that you're out. I am not even sure that exists in France, and even if it does, there is no way I am going to "get out of the Church" that formally, because in my culture, it's a personal choice, as I believe any religion should be, not a legal or tax-bound choice.

The next steps promise to be interesting, since at this stage, I am not sure what I have to do to "get out of it". Stay tuned.