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| Book 1 of the Schattenreich |
I realized I haven’t yet talked about the fact that two of
my characters in the Schattenreich series are, in essence, expatriates. Gus and Caitie Schwarzbach were
raised in Fredericksburg, Texas. Gus left while still an adolescent, but has
always felt that his roots were in Texas, not least because of Caitie.
Caitie is a more complicated case. As many of you know who
have gotten past Primary Fault, the first book in the series (
here or
hier, for example), her real roots are German. But she was born,
raised and hell-raised, and educated, as an American even though she can speak
the
Deutsch.
My motivation for this choice was my own experience as a
Texas expatriate living in Germany. Since Caitie falls for this German irresistible
bad-for-her hunky baron druid guy, I thought it would be good to have their backgrounds
be as different as possible. (Did I plan this? Yeah, kinda).
I’m a lifer here in Germany,
and I have the anchor to keep me put: I’m married to a German. This gives me a unique perspective on
life in Germany that is oh-so-different from my other American friends who are a) not lifers and b) not married to Germans. The
categories a) and b) often go together. I only know of a few instances of
lifers here who are not married to Germans. But I’m rambling. You want to know
what expatriate living here is like. Or you already know and want to argue with
me. I’m good with that.
Since I live near Cologne, an entrancing part of Germany (i.e.,
not Bavaria or Lower Saxony), my take on things might be different than
Americans in other places. I lived for a few years in Hannover. No. Just no.
Let’s not go there again. Unless we have to. And even after living for over
twenty years in Germany, Bavaria still seems like a Disney version of Germany
to me – beautiful and sparkly but mostly incomprehensible in terms of dialect
and culture.
So now that I’ve alienated a whole crapload of
potential German readers, I just want to say that both of those other places have distinctive exquisiteness
and are well worth a visit. Bavaria (especially Regensburg – ah, Regensburg. I love
the food and the beer and the Danube) and Lower Saxony (Herrenhausen Gardens,
oh yes! And those cute houses) are well-populated and well-loved regions in
Germany. But my heart was lost to the Rhineland almost the minute we moved here
in 1995. We live on the outskirts of Cologne, the so-called
Speckgürtel, and are only a 30-minute
train ride from the city center.
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| A water spout on the Cologne cathedral |
Even though sometimes the culture and the dialect in Cologne
seem out of reach to my limited American worldview, I love it here. I love the
deep history of Cologne and the surrounding areas. I love the people, who are
as varied as the history. I love that everything here is steeped in fairy tale
and superstition even though superficially, everything is
Brav.
Brav is one of those German words that is hard to define in English. I guess you could say conformist, conventional, or even
conservative. Cologne is not an attractive city, but you forget that
quickly and are deeply insulted when American visitors remark on the lack of
beauty.
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| The Cologne cathedral and the Hollenzollernbrücke |
Look at any of the historical pictures of Cologne after the last World War.And with a little understanding (
Verstand) that urban planning was shoved to the wayside in order to build housing and
other infrastructure quickly, then it becomes clear that Cologne has her rough
spots, but, to borrow Herbert Grönemeyer’s words (in his moving song,
Bochum), Cologne has an ‘honest’ skin.
The
Rhineland is also deeply Catholic, but if you scratch beneath that skin, other
things will begin to surface. That makes this part of the country highly
attractive to a reader and writer of fantasy.
There are things that you learn when you accept the expatriate
way of life in Germany.
You learn what curly kale is. And, no, you don’t put it
into a smoothie. You cook it slow with onion and some Westfalia
Mettwurst and serve it with German fried potatoes.
You learn about things like
escarole and endive (hint: more than one kind) and herring in cream sauce.
You learn to love that unique German television mystery series, the quintessential German
krimi (as soon as you understand enough of the
Deutsch to watch it) called
Tatort. And if you are married to a German, you will watch it, every Sunday evening, promptly at 8:15 p.m. right after the news.
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| A very large Schnitzel |
You learn that certain
beers can only be poured into certain glasses. You learn how to make
Schnitzel and
Frikadellen (but with American potato salad, thank you very much).
You learn to say
Guten Morgen (or,
better, just
Morgen) and
Mahlzeit! and
Tschüss! (or, locally,
Tschö!)
And you try to be even more polite than the Germans, especially at the meat
counter at the grocery store.
You learn how to read
Straßenbahn timetables and to make sure you have your train ticket
punched
before you get on the train,
unless the train has a punch machine inside. Then, of course, you have to make
your way to the machine as soon as you board. By then all the seats are taken,
but, hey, that’s life.
You love balmy summer evenings when you can take the
train to Cologne and sit outside near the water or in the inner city at one of
the many cafés and restaurants with outdoor seating. On those days, it seems
like the whole world is outside and wearing a smile.
In the winter, you may not
see your neighbors for months and wonder if they have been attacked and eaten by
rabid weasels. Then with the first fine day in spring, they all come out into
the light, blinking and rubbing their very pale arms
And you learn to hide the most egregious (can be understood
both ways) American side of your personality because, you know, as an American,
you want to belong. And when some of your German friends start complaining to
you about all those bad things that Americans are or do, you learn to smile and
listen without comment (or shouting or waving hands). And you try to avoid
complaining to your other American friends about those stereotypical things
that the Germans do.
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| Jecken celebrating Karneval |
As the native
Kölsche say, ‘
Jeder Jeck is anders’. We’re
all different. And that's good so.
photo credits:
nixter via
photopin cc
Madison Berndt via
photopin cc
Eisbäärchen via
photopin cc
LanguageTeaching via
photopin cc
jmtosses via
photopin cc
