Pizza, Popeye and 'Pos'

As far as German culture goes, I was very impressed, and frequently amused. I watched an hour of television in my hotel room, enjoying a remarkable 'magazine show' called Taff Time, which I can only describe as a combination of celebrity news (with an item about 'Hollywoodstars Tom Cruise und Katie Holmes'), human interest stories (an item about a teacher who had made a video documentary charting his battle against lung cancer) and soft pornography (a woman presenter running up to men sunbathing in a park and asking to see their bums). Crazy, moving, eclectic brilliance.

Strong like a sailor

Now on to one of my other passions: food. I was very disappointed with myself for not eating enough traditional German cuisine (choosing a distinctly un-German croissant for breakfast over the many Brötchen on offer, and having pizza for dinner). However, I did have some Maultaschen in the Shell cafeteria one lunch, and some white fish thing the following day (a North German delicacy? Perhaps.) The two German diners at our table that day ate spinach and boiled eggs (I'm sorry, I'm enthusiastic about sampling local culture, but my enthusiasm has its limits, even if that particular dish will make me "stark, genau so wie Popeye").

Strangers and 'Denglish'

My only mild annoyance with Hamburg and its citizens is that, when speaking to locals in German, I frequently received a response in English. This was partly because hotel workers would look up my name (and subsequently nationality) from a list when dealing with me; partly because I don't have a German accent; and partly because I seemed to have 'hier fremd' stamped on my forehead. I hoped it was because the Germans were so eager to practice their English, but it made me feel a little embarrassed to be British: a nation not known for their willingness to try and speak other languages. I would persist in my determination to talk in German. I would speak in German, and then the German would respond in English, so I in turn would reply in German, making for a very strange variety of Denglish, that ever-popular hybrid.

The dreaded interview

As for my interview, it was quick and painless. My future bosses were incredibly friendly and even offered to speak in English if we needed it. I understood as they explained to me in German about the company and my role. I sat wide-eyed and gormless for most of it, wanting to make a good impression but unable to think of anything apart from oh my god oh my god this place is really big! And it's real! And I'm part of it! I was slightly disappointed when they told me I couldn't start early. I'm just hoping these next two months will go really quickly. I really want to be back there, and not just to see if Taff Time does a follow-up piece to that fascinating Po story. I can't wait to go back to any of the fantastic Hamburg bars I visited for another Moskow Mule (not a traditional German beverage admittedly), or to stay in my gorgeous new flat, sit on my gorgeous new balcony and spy on the gorgeous German neighbour I spotted living opposite...Oh, the love affair begins...

previous | 1 | 2 | 3