I didn’t realise what a pain it is, till now – I have finally reached a stage where I feel confident to try out meaningful conversations (beyond how are you and whats your name and have a good weekend) in German – and all of a sudden the Sie – Du conundrum looms large in the horizon. Its grammatically simple, really – it affects the verb declination a little bit,thats all. But the big question is – who do you use Du with and who do you use Sie with?

For the uninitiated, Sie and Du are like You and Thee (or the other way round, I don’t know). One is for peers (Du)and the other shows more respect and formality(Sie). Luckily for the English language, it was lost in its evolutionary process – its definitely the best thing English could have done for itself.

The simple rules of thumb which every German tells me is – for the first time, always use Sie, until the other person switches to Du. If you are on first name basis with people use Du, otherwise use Sie. Use Du for kids, always. And once you switch to Du, you never go back to Sie, because that would be a huge step backwards for your “relationship” – you are less close now.

Now heres what I have noticed about the rules of thumb:
(1)For the first time, always use Sie, until the other person switches to Du.
The other person? why the other person? Why cant I be the one to initiate? If each person thinks the other person will initiate the Du, we will forever be stuck in Sie, wont we?

(2) if you are on first name basis with people, use Du. otherwise Sie.
I am on a first name basis with everyone at work ( I find it weird to call colleagues Mr.X or Mrs.Y even when she is the CEO) and people reciprocate. Yet, some of them use Sie. Why oh Why? cant we stick to simple rules at least, please!

(3)And use Du for kids, always.
Now I don’t have to deal with any kids. So, this rule – as simple as it is – doesn’t help at all. On the other hand, I got an email from a complete stranger sometime back and he used a Du in the very first email! already! And this was even in a professional context. Now, I am confused. Does he think I am a kid? He cant expect me to know about credit risk management and think I am a child. So, what about the rules, buddy? Or are they just to confuse us poor foreigners.

(4) And once you switch to Du, you never go back to Sie.
This is the worst of the lot! I can never remember who I am on Du-terms with and who are in my Sie-book. See, theres no real logic to the Sie and Du, and they change over time, how the hell I am to keep track? I should carry two little red books with Sie and Du lists. Now, people can try to be in my Du books, instead of being in my good books! Wouldn’t that be cool!

Unless you live in Germany, you would probably think this is oh-so silly. I used to, too. But its very important here – people actually notice these things and think a big deal about them ( at least some of them – and you don’t know who these people are).

And I can’t believe, after plodding through so much vocabulary and grammar, this little thing is making me self-conscious about speaking in German. I wish Deutsch evolves too, like English, to have only one form of You. And that the evolution happens within the next couple of months!

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Very many years ago, I used to have a very simplistic exclusive view to what Indian means. “If you live in India, you are an Indian”. period.

One fine day, I had to fill in an application form for a scholarship in Singapore, in which the race column had four choices – Chinese /Malay /Indian/Others. Suddenly, Indian was not a nationality, but a race. That was a new concept to me. And my idea of Indian expanded a bit. As I left India, I still wanted myself to be included as Indian. But I didn’t want to include any Singaporean Indians. So I changed my definition to “If you hold an Indian passport, you are an Indian”.

Years went by. I had lived in Singapore for sometime. Things change. Habits change. Mannerisms change. And this FOB Indian seemed to be in a quandary between Fresher-Of-the-Boat Indians and the Singaporean Indian world. Taxi drivers started complaining to me about how they don’t understand the accent of Indians who come from India – they inferred from my fake Singlish that I was born and brought up there. My old definition still protected me, but I was beginning to empathise a bit with the other side too. So I generously expanded my definition to “If you hold an Indian passport OR If you are an Indian by race and I like you, you are an Indian” (ya, I still couldn’t include everyone and that was my loophole).

More years went by. I attended a job interview in which the interviewer asked me out of the blue whether I would be willing to give up my Indian citizenship. The process for visa for Indians (PS. this is not for Germany) was very tedious and he said it would be easier if I changed my citizenship. I don’t know why, but I said a firm indignant No. (Before we start any employer bashing, I did get the job offer regardless of my less-than-perfect answer, but refused it partly because of the long winded visa process and my unwillingness to wait.) Nevertheless, the incident made me ponder what I would have done if really a great job offer depended on my willingness to forsake my citizenship. The truth is, if it isn’t such a sudden unexpected question and if all other factors are excellent, I may not say No a second time. After all, what is in a passport? Its who you are that counts. And to protect myself from any such possibilities in the future, I arrived at my current definition for Indian, “I think I am an Indian, therefore I am an Indian”.

The concept of Indian is fluid and its precisely in its fluidity that it finds its beauty. We all have different definitions for what it means to be an Indian. In my life so far, I have already gone through four. Who knows how many more there are to come. I don’t think a billion people would ever come to a consensus on what it means to be an Indian. Nevertheless, the topic will still be one close to our hearts.

I would love to write about it more, but just don’t have the time now. So for now, I will just leave you with two links.

Scoot over to Divya’s and she (and the commenters there) have some great arguments.

The second one is on the flip side of this coin. Even as we struggle to be included as Indians, we have to fit in into the environs that we live in. Here is one of my old posts on how far I will go in adjusting to a new place.

Gotta go. More later.

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I genuinely believe that most people who indulge in such culturally insensitive jokes do not have any malicious intentions. Very many of them even heartily believe in the power of the above disclaimer. But what exactly do you expect me to do? If I am in a group where I am the sole representative of the population that you will be laughing your head off in about five minutes, do you really expect me to laugh with you? But then rebutting it wouldn’t be polite, because you of course had the holy disclaimer. I may not question the factual accuracy or the humor in your jokes – in fact, in my free time, I might even laugh at them myself. But while laughing at oneself as an individual is often easy, laughing at yourself as a member of a community or country is hard. I have listened to my fair share of Indian jokes and as much as I would like to think I am immune to them, I am not. And its not just me – I have the opportunity to meet and interact with people from different countries around here, and its common to hear jokes about the different cultures. As much as everything seems hunky-dory, if you would bother with subtleties (and sometimes not so subtle tones), the undercurrents are not as still as the surface seems to be. People are usually just polite to say anything about it. But mostly they are uncomfortable with such jokes, even when not directly made at them.

The funny thing is that most of the people who make culturally insensitive jokes are incapable of handling it, if the tables are turned. I am very bad at rebuttals in such situations – blame it on my upbringing, the fact that I am against them in principle or maybe just that I am not sharp tongued enough to respond in time with a caustic retort – but through the years, my response has been silence. But in my last job, I had a fellow Indian in my team who wasted no time listening to such jokes – whether they were served with disclaimers or not. To pick a mild example, when my Chinese colleagues would bring up people running around trees in Indian movies, he would have something to say about the flying counterparts in Chinese movies. 9 times out of 10, it would achieve its intended effect of shutting them up – but also, it would have considerably dulled the mood at the table.

To me, the disclaimer or intent has no relevance in this context. Its like placing a trampoline next to a building and pushing me out of a third floor window, for everyone else’s amusement. Sure, you placed the trampoline – you intended no harm. And you even told me that I am going to be pushed down – you preempted your joke with a “No offence intended”, didn’t you? Maybe I am not physically hurt from the fall – but the push is humiliating. And I had no choice but to be pushed. If I protested or pushed you back or even, just did not laugh with everyone else – I am the wrong-doer – the person who took the joke in the wrong spirit.

I believed that lie all these years. When people told me that it was meant in good faith, I thought it was really my fault that I was feeling bad. After all, I should be able to laugh at myself too. But that is just bullshit. “Society” conditions us into thinking that we should accept insensitive jokes and laugh with people who laugh at us – only because such people don’t want to take responsibility for their actions. They just push the blame around. But you know what, its not going anywhere. In an awkward situation created by an insensitive joke, only the person who said the joke it is to blame – and perhaps, the people who laughed with him. Though, sometimes the onlookers are just confused about what to do and choose the path of least resistance.

Its about time that people who make culturally insensitive jokes realise that it ain’t all that funny after all – offence intended or not.

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Sure, my previous address used to be in Holland, but that’s no reason to think Germany is in the Netherlands. I also don’t know how the West Germany sneaked into my address.

Seriously, even if they never went to school, don’t they at least watch soccer?

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When I am home, I complain about how just about everyone loves to give advice, totally unasked for and often unwelcome. If I drive, the policeman at our street corner will wave and say “Ma’am, drive carefully”. If I wear a blue salwar to the temple, the old lady there will tell me, “Kutty, you should wear red saris. Red colour will definitely suit you”. If I am at the bookshop, someone is bound to give me a book recommendation. And how I long for all these to come back, because now everyone in the 1 kilometer radius of my home is stuck with the refrain: “Hmm..you have been married for a while haven’t you..hmm”. While I had found all these annoying, its even worse when no one cares, not even to annoy you.

And the apathy is definitely something I am very much guilty of. Having lived for quite a while in Singapore, which I call the king of apathic lands, its rubbed off quite a bit on me too. If I see a girl sobbing in my neighbourhood, I probably wouldn’t ask her whats wrong. I will justify she had a fight with her boyfriend and just needs to be left alone. The thing is, if everybody just leaves everybody else alone, we are all gonna be very lonely.

The next time the old lady advises me to wear a red sari, I will just nod and smile and maybe even wear a red sari the next day.

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Today, I did not laugh when my colleague secretly confessed that he bought his Corrs CD from the pirates. Nor, when another male colleague distributed chocolates because he was pregnant.

You see, they patiently correct me when I say things like “Wurde Sie mögen einige nutten?” which apparently means “Would you like some prostitutes?”. And all I wanted to do was offer some nuts. Nutten is prostitutes, Nüsse is nuts!! In my defence, you can make a lot of German plurals by adding an -en at the end.

So, I have a strong reason not to laugh. But go on, you can have a laugh.

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“A handshake is a universal token of friendliness here. Be it in office, or at home or in the street when two cab drivers greet each other. Something that may not be done even in offices back in Trichur.”

I came across this at a post in the Girl-with-big-eyes’ blog and was reminded of something that happened a very long time back. I had gone back to India for hols and was attending a friend’s brother’s wedding in Trichur. This friend and I had been to school together, but after high school, we had gone our separate ways. She was introducing me to her new college classmates, and I, like a normal person would do, held out my hand for a “how-do-you-do” handshake. The guy looked positively shocked. My friend (we both had studied in a conservative all-girls convent school) looked so scandalized that I thought she would faint. Well, now that I had shook my hands with one, if I didn’t shake hands with the rest, that would be too much favouritism for everyone to stomach. So, I bravely kept at it. After shaking hands with abt three ppl, everyones gazes made it pretty clear they thought I was an alien. Oh what the heck – to my credit, I shook hands firmly and politely with all 8 of the new people I met that day. Trust me, I was embarrassed – I had somehow forgotten the old Trichurian rule of just nod and smile when you are introduced. But I didn’t think much about it until on a recent trip to India, I came across one of the guys I had met that time and he remembered me as the “girl who shook hands”! I am not trying to belittle Trichur – come on, I love my home town, but really! whats wrong with a handshake?

Its very intriguing how differently people across the world greet each other. Considering how much importance a first impression makes, I don’t think we give enough thought to this.

I never grew up with the tradition of touching my elders’ feet – but I am expected to do so whenever I meet the parents of my close friends from the North. And my recently married cousin’s wife is from the North and she does what my dad calls “a dive” whenever she visits our home. But what surprised me was that my mom was very impressed with her ‘humility’ and ‘good behavior’. Now, I just hope my mom doesn’t get it into her head that it will be a good way for me to show my respects – come on mom! its just a Northie tradition.

Farther away from home, Germans and Americans squeeze your hand! It doesn’t help that some of them are tall and big and strong – I have to remind myself every time “Squeeze, Su, Squeeze harder!” – lest I come across as not polite enough. I had a French friend who insisted on kissing me on my cheeks everytime we met. I was visibly taken aback the first few times, and he nonchalantly explained, “I am French. I can kiss you when we meet”. Hmm..I never really found out if it was just his greeting for girls or if it was really the French greeting.

A Brazilian acquaintance would hug me everytime we met – now I had reasons not to piss off this person – so I googled and found out thats really how the Brazilians do it – and so I endured the hugs. To be honest, it was really only a symbolic hug, nothing that makes even a touch-queasy person like me uncomfortable. But bottom line is, if you are in Brazil (and I have heard this is true for some other SouthAm cultures), you might wanna give hugsy a try, or at least be open to it.

In many Western cultures, men stand up before they are introduced to someone important – and the chivalrous ones stand up for women too. Standing up shows politeness and respect. Same goes for India – but its not the men who stand up – its usually the younger person who stands up for the elder one. I remember I did this once in Singapore, and was met with a startled “is-there-a-thorn-in-your-seat?” look.

I have been asked an umpteen times why Indian men are “so touchy” with each other. People, please dont take offence at me – I have already endured enough being at the wrong end of this question. If you have been to Little India in Singapore, you will know what these people are asking about – you will see Indian men who walk around with their elbows on the next guys shoulder. I have even seen a few hold hands. Now if this was restricted to Little India in Singapore, I could have shooed off the question. But look around you, Indian men are definitely more touchy – with other men (thanks to Indian traditions, they stay off from women – thank god for that!). Even in business contexts, I have decidedly seen non-Indians squirm when an Indian man, with all friendliness and innocence, would give them a hard and a tad bit too long pat on the back.

People around here pass you their visiting cards like it is such a no-issue. Don’t make that mistake in Asia. In Singapore, make sure you look at it if you receive a visiting card. Look impressed – fake it if you aren’t – it would only do you good. I am told its even stricter in Japan – when you are handing out your visiting card, make sure its in such a way that its not upside down for the receiver – hold it at the two tips nearer to you with both your hands. And bow till your nose touches your feet ( Ok, I am just kidding abt the last one! ;o)) But talking abt the Japanese bowing – I have to relate this rather unrelated incident – our office building used to house a lot of Japanese banks as well. So one day I am in a crowded lift, late for a meeting and wishing people would just stop trying to squeeze into this lift – when in comes a Japanese dude – complete with a double-breasted jacket and pin-striped shirt (a digression in a digression: if you doing business with the Japs and you dont know what to wear – err on the formal side – even my strictly-Tshirts-only husband bought a couple of decent shirts and suits when he worked for a Japanese company). Back to single-level digression: The Japanese dude who was standing near the lift door bowed his head low and long as a gesture of good bye to his business associates outside the lift. And the supersensitive lift door that was almost about to close went back to being open! A few seconds of impatient wait – and the door is about to close again – and again our pin-stripe dude bows – i should change the adjective to ‘wide’! And strictly no exaggeration – this continued for three times until someone grunted in impatience and he finally limited his bow to a slight nod of the head!

Back to greetings and introductions – have you seen two Saudis greet each other? – They would grasp each other’s right hand, place the left hand on the other’s right shoulder and exchange kisses on each cheek. Even men to men! Thank god, I was a kid when I was living in Saudi Arabia and was generally ignored. And by the time I was old enough, they denied me a visa – do you know the country has no provisions for tourist visa! You have to be invited to enter- and to leave the country, even a foreigner needs an exit permit. So, if you cant get any of the Sheiks to invite you over, you are never gonna see the Laila & Majnu caves and their really pretty oases. This might come as a surprise – but I din’t have too many complaints about wearing the Burkha – where else can you go to the supermarket in your PJs? and never have to worry about a bad hair day? Before I forget – don’t ask a Saudi man about his wife – your intentions will be construed as everything under the sun except politeness.

This has turned out to be a rather long post and I just wanted to narrate my handshake crib. But before I sign off, just one more thing I learned today. In Germany, say only exactly what you mean. Do not exaggerate, do not use superlatives or superfluous words unless necessary. I asked my usual “Guten Morgen! How are you?” to a colleague in the lift today morning. She replied with a matter-of-fact “OK” and a polite return “How are you?”. It was morning, I had just had my coffee and was feeling chirpy – so I breezily said “Great”. And that was a mistake – I got back a quizzical “Great?”. People dont feel “great” around here without a reason – how could I have let that slip my mind? I spent the next couple of floors explaining how excited I am abt my vacation next week and thats why I am feeling “great”. Ah so! everyones happy – sorry – “OK!” again.

Alrighty, end of post. I have tried to put down whatever I can remember, but its kinda limited to my personal experiences. The ads from the world’s local bank have given us all a couple more insights. But there is so much more to go – I shudder at the many blunders I am yet to make.

Would love to hear it if you have any experiences/anecdotes/advice to share.

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Why does the weather play such an important part in one’s lives? I remember, when I lived in Singapore, the ‘air-conditioned nation’, you are hardly ever really physically affected by the weather – all offices and most homes have air-conditioning, most walkways are covered so you can get by without getting too drenched in the rain and in most malls, you cant even see the outside world so you wouldn’t even know what the weather is like. And yet, my moods used to be affected to some extent by the vagaries of the weather.

The first spell of monsoon in Kerala always used to bring a sense of hope to me. The smell of fresh mud is something that one associates with new life and fresh beginnings. But then that early drizzle gives way to never ending downpour and I would begin to feel blue – maybe it was just the annoyance of sitting in a crowded classroom in drenched skirts or perhaps the inconvenience of carrying an umbrella around, but except for the first drizzle, the rain was a sure depressant for me.

Why all this weather talk all of a sudden, you might wonder. The weather in Düsseldorf has changed! And all of a sudden. The spring (or is it summer?) is definitely here. From 10 degrees on Saturday, we went to 30 degrees on Sunday! I had to strip off my jacket and roll up my jeans and keep licking at my icecream to feel sane. Now that might seem surprising coming from someone who claims to miss the tropics, but truth is that I had gotten used to the chills and I am gonna need some reverse adjustments and I might be forgiven for being taken aback by such a sudden change. Plus, Germany is definitely not equipped for hot weather. I am told that one needs to get special permission to install airconditioners, and for that you have to prove a whole lot of things, including that the air conditioner wont mar the beauty of the apartment building! I am grateful for the little fan that I sneaked into my shipment from Singapore, more for sentimental reasons than practical ones – it sure is gonna be a life saver if this weather continues.

I often wonder why the weather affects people in different ways. Whenever there is a shower outside, I say it is a great time to be snuggled in bed, while my German colleague would invariably retort that it is a great day to be indoors and working! At first, I attributed it to his industrious attitude, but that’s not the case – on really sunny days, I feel cheerful and am extra productive at work, while he gets all jittery and jumpy and would like to go out and enjoy the sunshine.

After all these technological innovations and advancements, man is still affected to a large extent by nature. As much as he likes to live a modular life, he cannot be insulated from the nature and her whims and fancies.

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Turns out its not. The lady gives me a very surprised look and tells me: “Malaysia..Asia? Oh..I thought Singapore is like Düsseldorf, a place in Germany” !!! I honestly was at a loss for words! Come on, people, get your geography right. At least not so badly off! Is there a separate licence for German cities? And why would I convert it? And she wasn’t an old aunty-like character. She was young, spoke near-perfect English and seemingly well-educated.And most Germans I have met are so well-travelled and well-read! This even beats the “Isn’t Singapore in China?” that I have heard from a US Marine.

I hope the obviously-not-so-intelligent lady at the driving place accidentally converts my normal boring licence to a vocational licence to drive a street tram..That would be oh-so-cool! Come on, I have to be rewarded for keeping a straight face under extreme duress.

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I had no idea how easy it is to make whipped potatoes!

Peel and cut, say 6 potatoes, put them in cold water, cover the lid and boil.
After the water is boiled, remove the lid and continue boiling for about 15 mins or till the potatoes are tender. Then drain the potatoes very well, add half a cup of warm milk and 4 table spoons of butter and knead well with a fork/spoon (Use a potato ricer, if you are a fancy cook). Continue to heat for about 3-5 mins, and then add about 1/4 cup warm milk and salt and pepper to taste. Fluff it well and its ready to serve!!!

After I made potatoes in three different ways for the last three days, Srijith thinks I have taken to German cuisine a tad too much – but you can’t blame me, the supermarkets sell potatoes by the kilos and I have only two people to cook for. I tried the Indian potato masala, Swiss Rosti (a rather miserable misdirected attempt, I must admit) and whipped potato. Maybe, next week will be french fries, golden potato croquettes and baked potato skins – I am told one can even make delicious cookies from potatoes!

Did you know that the potatoes have a very interesting history – they were first cultivated in South America by the Incas, who guarded it as their little secret (apparently, they even had Potato Gods), until the Spaniards came along and conquered the Incas. They brought potatoes back to Spain and continental Europe, where it received a mixed reaction (Did we really expect Europeans to think alike?). The Spanish called it ‘Edible Stone’ and ignored it. The Irishmen loved it, more because they dint have much else to eat. The Scots hated it because it was not mentioned in the Bible – so it must be unholy. But I like the English story the best – the royal cook threw away the tubers and cooked the greens (sounds like something I would have done =) for Queen Elizabeth, who promptly rejected it. Potatoes came to Germany in the late 16th century, when the King ordered the peasants to plant potatoes to save themselves from the famine – anyone who dared to disobey would have their noses chopped off! May be its a testimony to how much the Germans love their noses that I have to buy huge sacks of potatoes! Then the potatoes traveled to France – trust them to make it chic and trendy and we got the Pommes Frites or the French fries! The irony is that the worst French fries I have ever had in my life were in a cafe in Paris. And finally, the Irish immigrants and the returning soldiers from WWI brought the potatoes to the US – where Sir Mcdonalds(ya, I know theres no such knight – but there might have been one in Potatoworld) popularised it as we know it now! Maybe because potatoes are not all that popular in Asia, but I haven’t heard any Asian potato anecdotes.

So heres to potatoes – the spud is a real stud indeed!

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