The Germans are health freaks. Early morning organic fruit and vegie markets send them racing to their high-tech mountain bikes, frothing with excitement at the thought of some ultra overpriced fresh produce. Ugh. I’m quite content with my mayonnaise drenched lettuce-like material in my McChicken, thankyouverymuch.

The Germans jog smuggly past me, as I slouch waiting for my bus…but rather than hiding my shame behind my family-sized tub of gummi-bears I smile back… Because, I am well aware of their dirty little secret….Yup that’s right Processed-Food-Appreciation-Society (PFAS), I can reveal to you now, that in between all of that exercise and hippy food, the Germans also somehow manage to fit in a pack of Cigarettes. You didn’t think we’d notice the cigarette vending machines on every block, Germany? Not to mention the smoking zones in high schools! The health-fanatic charade is over, Deutschland!

So next time the German next to you takes a “quick breather” in the middle of your Yoga class… you can feel muuuuch better about your planned post-workout schnitzel. Go on, get a side of fries too.

The PDA (Public Display of Affection) is rife here in Germany. It seems that it is perfectly acceptable to make-out in virtually any public area… on buses, in crowded elevators, in cafes, whilst using an ATM, at church, at uni or in the waiting room at the dentist.

Yeah. I know, I sound like a bitter old hag. But sometimes I can’t help but feel like I’m intruding on something private, when I’m wedged awkwardly between two couples sucking face on the bus to Uni :/

German boys can’t dance.

There, I said it. Don’t hate me. In fact, if you’re a German boy and you’d like to dispute this claim, meet me at the local arcade and we’ll battle it out over a few rounds of dance-dance-revolution.

Now it’s not like I’ve got moves to rival Beyonce or anything. Quite the opposite in fact. But, when it comes to cutting shapes in the German discos… I become the popping, locking and dropping queen of the D-floor… well, at least in comparison to the rhythmless German boys who are swaying awkwardly to the beat.

Now. There are in my opinion two categories of dance-moves exhibited by German males:

1. The sober dance move

2. The intoxicated dance move

Although the first option may not involve enough movement to constitute dancing… it is at least very versatile and can be displayed in response to virtually any genre of music. It usually involves a very slight movement of hips, a gentle swaying of the arms if the music is really up beat, and of course… a look of absolute fear.

The second option, although definitely far more cringe-inducing for the observer, is easily preferable to the sober-move. A little bit of liquid courage will have any conservative German male breaking loose from his rigid shell… so much so however that many drunk German men believe wholeheartedly that they have momentarily been posessed by the ghost of Michael Jackson. I’m talking about spins, fast foot work, grinding and enthusiastic fist-pumping. None of which is done with grace or even a speck of skill…. oh, but they’ve got spirit, yes they do.

So if you’re like me, and you’ve always been the unco-ordinated kid at school… go out and challenge a German boy to a dance-off. You’ll leave feeling confident enough to audition for “So you think you can dance?”.

Germans like to stare at you. Especially if you’re on a bus. Especially if you’re a foreigner on a bus. Especially if you’re a foreigner not speaking German on a bus (highly likely).

It’s like the X-Men, their piercing stares burning multiple holes in you, as you wonder how much Nutella you accidentally been smeared on/around your mouth earlier that morning. (Unavoidable with toast. Gets you every damn time.) And then X-Men morphs into Zoolander, when you realise that your face is as clean as a new roll of toilet paper- spotless and smooth…
And yet their eyes never waver from yours, they never look away, regardless of the staring contest you challenge them to in return for their visual molestation.
(Don’t bother, you’ll lose. Trust.)


What could possibly be the cause for such a strange German phenomenon?
Behold, a list of personal thoughts.

-Didn’t realise I was speaking Swahili? Basically, I’m interesting.
-Talent scout in the form of a five year old. Spotted my modeling potential. Ha.
-Was seated next to George Clooney. Never the intended target.
-Edward Cullen in disguise. They’re hungry and I smell.
-iPod so loud they can hear N’Sync blaring through the headphones.
-Bad day, look disgusting, they can smell me from all the way there. Equivalent to a human s-it.

Whatever the reason, we don’t know.
No. Idea. No idea whatsoever.

Therefore, the suggestion?
Strip. You might as well get stared at for something.
And coinage is a likely possibility. Cha-ching. Boom, score.

Germany is cheap, but sometimes you find yourself paying for things you had previously never considered to have been geld worthy. From remembering the cost and return of Pfand- where you start to consider fifteen cents as fifteen million Euros- to having to pay to use the public toilets; previously only seen in Eastern Europe with their dodgy squatters. (Not complaining about the public toilets in Germany. If you’re lucky enough you might get the legendary ones that move their seats as they clean themselves. Drool worthy.)

But another cost that is not that internationally foreign yet surprises you nonetheless, is the cost of using a washing machine.
The current flat rate for student accommodation is €2.50 per wash.
The amount can vary as to where you live in Deutschland and if you have one of those swanky eco-friendly washing machine that can lower the Cents.
(Another €2.50 if you want to use the dryer. Use a clothes line, or your curtain rail. Or just wear them wet, they’ll dry when you start walking around.)

It might not seem like a lot, but really, that sh-t builds up! If you wash once a week, it equates to €10 a month. This can basically buy you a whole month’s groceries and ten million beer crates in Germany. But truthfully, laziness and herpes amongst exchange students leads to a clothes wash at least once every three weeks. And that’s productive.

So the obvious solution to the problem? Buy a big luggage bag/suitcase and stash your mother or grandmother in it (or father, gender equality). Poke holes in the item for breathing space. Make them build your very own Waschraum, provide food every now and again. Water is optional.
Trust us, it’s so much easier and billig this way.

(Source: th04.deviantart.net)

Thinking of taking on Gwyneth Paltrow’s latest ‘raw food’ detox diet? Or wanting to make your very own Banana Split to take the Winter blues away? Maybe even make a salad?

Please, for your sake. Don’t do it.

Especially if you’re from a country that doesn’t sell frozen produce that has drifted across the Atlantic for six hundred and twenty-seven months. Because finding a dying onion or apple in the pantry a day after you bought it, can truly be traumatising.

So to give you a greater picture, we went around and interviewed several ERASMUS students about their experiences of buying fruit & veggies in Deutschland:

“Went to Kaufland and bought a Banana. Those green ones shipped from Panama. Two days later, bam! It was black. Still ate it though.”

“Fried onions taste good with mushrooms, right? So I bought them. The onions that is. And they’re supposed to last forever, because they, uh, do so at home. Well, no. Around four days later, there was some kind long growth coming out of them. Sort of like green leaves. Then boom, I realised, my onions were turning into f-cking plants!”

“I bought a cucumber from Penny Markt. 25 Euro Cents, bargain. Ate a bit of it that night and put it in the fridge. Next morning, my cucumber was flaccid. Lying in a puddle of it’s own liquid…discharge.”
(Note: So far this has occurred to at least three ERASMUS students.)

“Are eggs always supposed to go in the fridge?”
Good question.

“I bought a Mango because it’s Summer back home and I’ve really missed eating them at around this time of the year. So I bought two that looked ripe. Tried to eat one that night. Fail. It was so green that it tasted like lettuce. Hard lettuce. Took the other one out of the fridge and left it to ripen up in the pantry for two days. Fail. Still frozen. Should I leave it out in the sun?

“Bought an avocado. Had to fry it for twenty minutes to make those chopped green rocks edible. Lots of oil but success at the end. Legend.”

“I really like those salami sticks from EDEKA.”
We do too.

Maybe we’re all just idiots. Maybe us ERASMUS kids are just perpetually drunk from the turpentine that we drink on a daily basis, and have no brain cells left as a result. Maybe we didn’t check that the cucumbers were hard before we bought them. Maybe Germany only imports that certain type of inedible mango. Maybe eggs aren’t always meant to go in the fridge. Maybe, maybe, maybe.

But after finding a consensus amongst the ERASMUS students, here are the definite answers on ‘fresh’ German produce, that we can provide you with:

1. Buy the apples. That’s basically the only fruit that’s available during the Winter season and there’s a high chance that the produce might even be local. However, a long life-span and great taste is not guaranteed.
2. Apparently the most reliable vegetables are garlic and celery. Don’t even know if garlic is a vegetable but have included it anyway.
3. Buy this fruit that’s called Physalis. Yeah they’re imported from South America and have a weird taste. But they sound like Syphilis and your fingers get all sticky when you try to take that cape crp off of it. Fun times.
4. Just eat meat during the Winter since there’s nothing else. You’ll make your very own perfume that way, allowing people to simply recognise your oncoming presence by your smell. Nom.

Or just scratch all that and wait for Summer. Easy.

Many Germans seem to believe that their lives are about as tabloid-worthy as the lives of A-grade celebrities  .. as is evident in how many of them feel the need to create online aliases for websites such as Facebook.

If your german friend by the name of Martin Schmidt asks you if he can add you on facebook, don’t be surprised if you later receive a friendship request from somebody who looks remarkably similar to Martin… yet is named something weird like Leo Löwenherz.

Don’t worry. He’s most likely not devised this alias in an attempt to evade the law. And neither is he the german equivalent to Lindsay Lohan. In most cases, he’s just paranoid that his old primary school friends will search him out and see his photos from that kayak trip last summer or Christmas dinner at Grandma’s. Oooh Scandalous.

Here’s one for those of you who (like us) have come to Germany from a Mi Casa es su Casa Culture… Little do you know it, but what you consider to be friendly and open… is rude and intrusive in the eyes of the Germans.

Here’s an example: My very sweet and timid German housemate knocked on my bedroom door earlier, to which I responded by hollering “Yeah, come in!” … I was clearly not about to get up from my sprawled position on the couch to open the door.

Timid housemate then edges the door open as slowly as possible.. as if any sudden movements could detonate a bomb. Peering through the gap, she offers me some cookies she’s baked. “Yeah I’d love one!” (note: still haven’t budged from my mould in the couch).

Now here comes the awkwardness… We now have to figure out a strategy for how to get the cookie from her position in the hallway to my position on the couch. In any other country, the cookie-holder would simply walk to the couch and initiate the cookie-transferral. In Germany though, cookie-holder appears to be blocked from entering my bedroom by some invisible-to-the-human-eye barricade. Hmm.. dilemma.

To cut a long story short… we ended up agreeing that the best way to overcome the invisible obstacle was to throw the cookie. Awkward.

Our advice: The Germans may not be prepared to break through this invisible barrier, but that’s not to say that you can’t! Go on.. waltz casually into your German housemates room at some stage and try sparking some small-talk. Just try to ignore the looks of fear, anxiety and confusion that your housemate will no doubt be exhibiting.