Germany - Was ist das?

Sometimes you feel like you already know a country before you even visit it. You’ve met plenty of expats from that country, tried the food, seen the movies, and listened to their music. Germany is a great example of this. We meet roughly 1,000 Germans every time we go for a hike, I’ve chowed down on my share of wurst, I know who Hans Gruber is, and everyone knows 99 Luftballons is a banger.

But sometimes a country really surprises you, and the more solid the image you had in your head before visiting, the more delightful it will be when that country completely defies your expectations. This is what happened in Germany for us, in no small part from the friends we were lucky to visit while traveling there for almost a month. We saw Hamburg, the island of Rügen, Berlin, Potsdam, Leipzig, Saxony, and Munich. Each place had its own flavor and stories to tell, and there’s too much to go into without hiring an editor, so Hamburg and Potsdam have got to go. If you want to know more about Hamburg, listen to the Beatles. If you want to know more about Potsdam, talk to someone who went to SUNY; they have a campus there.

East vs West - FKK - “It’s the only freedom we had”

Minutes away from freedom

What does a nudist beach have to do with the Cold War? A whole lot, if you’re an East German. Which since 1990 is the same as a West German. Except not exactly. I’ll get to the nude thing later, but for starters, a quick history lesson. Germans were Germans for a long time, but the country wasn't “Germany” until a guy named Otto Von Bismark decided to Littlefinger his way into making an actual German state in the 1800s. This was met with lukewarm acceptance at best and active terror at worst by other European powers, who feared a unified Germany might end up being too powerful and cause all sorts of trouble. Sometimes it sucks to be right. Otto was eventually shoved into the memory hole by a new Kaiser, Wilhelm II, and sure enough bad things happened almost immediately and WWI didn’t go well for anyone. Germany was devastated by the war and the ensuing peace treaty. After a short interlude of debauchery and happiness in the 1920s, the Nazis came to power, feeding off economic turmoil and fear. After becoming Chancellor in 1933, Hitler led Germany down a terrible path which included starting the most destructive war in human history, committing genocide, and in the end leaving Germany a shell of its former self, bombed into ashes by the Allies and occupied by both the Soviets and the Western powers.

Bismarkhering sandwich, a favorite on the Baltic

Enter East and West Germany. Divided by the victors of the war, the two Germanys went down wildly different paths over the next few decades. West Germany benefited from American and Western European financial support and a significantly more forgiving attitude from the occupiers. A slow and inefficient “Denazification” process (about 10 percent of Germans were members of the Nazi Party) meant that some lower lever Nazis would eventually return to positions of power, and if you knew how to build a rocket you would simply be moved to the USA and forgiven of all crimes.

The East was different. The Soviets had no interest in forgiveness and quickly sent over 100,000 people to the gulag. They made a point of claiming that West Germany was essentially a continuation of the Nazi regime, while the East was being remade into a new socialist (not the national kind) state. And of course, if you could make a rocket, you were fine.

Soviet cemetery in Potsdam

Time passed, and the two Germanys continued to drift apart politically and culturally. By the time the Berlin Wall fell and the country was united in 1990, for many Germans, it felt like their counterparts in the East and West were truly foreigners. Simple foods had the same name but were completely different dishes, the West still practiced religion (somewhat) while the East was almost completely Godless, one group was relatively well-off while the other was economically devastated, and even simple cultural norms had changed.

Which brings me to the nudist beaches, known in German as FKKs. FKK stands for Freikörperkultur (Free Body Culture) and was originally a philosophy created in the late 1800s in the German Empire. FKK is now synonymous with nude beaches more so than the philosophy. It’s complicated, but essentially the idea was that being naked in nature was a good thing, and you shouldn’t be ashamed to do it. The idea caught on and nudist beaches were established in the 1920s, but guess who didn’t like people enjoying being naked? The Nazis. After WW2 ended FKK came back with a vengeance in East Germany, but did not experience such a revival in the West. There are numerous theories for why this happened, but I like the one my friend who grew up in East Germany offered: “Being naked was the only freedom we could enjoy.”

West Germans, with their abundant freedom and Levi’s jeans, had no great interest in nude beaches. So when the country reunited, vast swaths of FKK beaches on the East German Baltic Sea slowly started regulating themselves to suit the tastes of the new West German tourists. And those tastes did not include seeing loads of East German wurst flopping gently in the waves of the Baltic.

This is the environment we cluelessly entered upon visiting Rügen, specifically the town of Baabe. This is not a place non-Germans typically go for a beach vacation, and the reason we were there was through the generosity of a German couple (Torsten and Regine) I met in Nepal years ago. We planned to meet up where they lived in Leipzig later on in the trip, but before we did that Torsten offered a stay at his parents’ beach cabin. We readily accepted and found ourselves being picked up at the train station by his amazing parents, who allowed two random Americans six nights at their place. There was a small language barrier, but they (like most everyone on this trip) spoke much more English than we spoke German, so we managed to make some small talk and figure out a few things about one another. As they left us at the cabin, Torsten’'s father was explaining how to get to the beach, and he gestured in one direction and suggestively said “FKK… that way” with a sly smile.

So of course we had to check out the FKK. Over the three decades since unification, the FKKs have been relegated to the fringes of beach towns, and you have to walk a little bit to reach one. But once you do, that sweet East German freedom is yours for the taking. And take we did. Our clothes off. Long story short, being naked on a beach is awesome, just like being naked in an onsen is awesome, or being naked in a Georgian bath is awesome. If this trip is teaching us one thing, it’s that being naked around other people is not just OK, but fun.

The rest of our time in Rügen was peaceful. We went on long walks, heard a terrible rendition of “Country Roads” at a local concert, and I managed to recreate that ubiquitous scene in a Western movie where a character walks into a saloon and all the locals stop what they’re doing to stare at the newcomer. This was in an underground nautically-themed bar in Baabe, which Google claimed was a great place full of friendly people. I entered with a hearty “Hallo!” immediately became unnerved by the six Germans staring holes into the back of my head, and proceeded to mess everything up by walking up to the bartender (we were expected to sit down and wait to be served), ordering beer with my horrendous German, and then messing up getting the bill by probably saying something like “Check to be served please now yes?” We survived somehow.

Berlin - “Poor but sexy”

In 2003 the mayor of Berlin called it “Poor but sexy,” referencing the fact that Berlin after the reunification of Germany became a haunt for young people, artists, and in general, sexy people. The old warehouses of East Berlin, left in disrepair by the GDR, became techno clubs and sprawling bars, and there was a feeling of freedom and affordability that I imagine was similar to Williamsburg before it became the shitshow that it is now.

Berlin today is definitely not the “Poor but sexy” hipster paradise that it was a few decades ago, but it is still a fascinating city with an incredible history where you can party for 24 hours at a club without ever leaving the premises. We had planned to visit Berlin for a very short time to save money (it ain’t cheap) but extended our stay to 5 days to spend some time with yet another pair of Germans we had met while traveling, Sandra and Olaf. We met on a wine tour in Georgia and after 9 hours in a van together we all concluded that we liked each other’s company. We had dinner a few days later and they offered to show us around Berlin if we were passing through. They were fantastic guides and showed us a side of the city we would never have seen without them. We met up three or four times over 5 days, and each time was great. They had suggestions for off-the-beaten-path things to see including an old American radar station that is now a graffiti park (the source of all of the photos in this section; you'll see why later on), but what will stay with me forever as one of the top cultural moments of our year abroad was going to a Berlin club.

A quick primer on Berlin club culture - it’s unique. There are many clubs to choose from, and it’s not uncommon to enter a club on Saturday night and leave Sunday evening. There are clubs for all types of tastes - techno, queer, metal, hip hop, and of course a full complement of sex clubs. The most serious clubbing I ever did was in Argentina, where it’s typical to enter a club at 3am and leave around 8 or 9 in the morning, but that’s child's play compared to Berlin. Of course, there is plenty of artificial stamina enhancement available at these clubs, but the amazing part of the club scene (from what I could tell in my brief experience) is that nobody really cares at all what you do or don’t do, as long as you are respectful of others. Meaning, if you want to just dance for 12 hours and not be bothered by anyone, you can do it. If you want to be totally sober and just enjoy the environment, nobody is going to hassle you or push you to do something you’re uncomfortable with.

Now, we are getting a bit older, and we were never very cool, so Berghain wasn’t going to happen for us. And I’ve never stayed up for 24 hours straight for any reason. At first Laura was really insistent on trying out a swingers club, but when I explained to her that it didn’t involve actual swings she lost interest. Our friends suggested a club that was low-key but had a lovely beer garden and outdoor dance floor. They told us the club rotated themes and that today was a celebration of queer identity. I considered wearing my black tank top since all my clothes are terribly uncool and it was hot out, but I thought I might as well just embrace my squareness and so wore my classic oversized black jeans and an octopus T-shirt. Not exactly clubbing attire, but you make do when your life is contained within two backpacks. Also, Olaf wore a black tank top so I avoided looking like his less cool twin.

Upon arrival at the club it was clear to me there were not a lot of octopus T-shirts to be seen (no shirt at all was the vibe), and we certainly boosted our chances of getting in by arriving with two Germans who knew what they were doing. I would not have blamed the bouncers if they turned us away, but fortunately they did not. We paid a small cover charge and after stickers were placed on our phone cameras to ensure privacy within the club (something I would love to see in other places, such as any party I attended from 2008-2015) we were in. The rest of the afternoon into the evening was a genuine delight. We met some friends of Olaf and Sandra at an outdoor table and essentially just talked for a few hours while drinking the house champagne.

As it got dark and the champagne started to kick in a little, we ended up dancing, which I can assure you is not a thing I do often or willingly. But this is where the open atmosphere of the German club really showed up. There were so many people dancing in so many different (sometimes very different) ways, and everyone respected your personal space. There seemed to be no judgment, and I kept my eyes out for the common sight in an Argentine club of a guy approaching a woman out of the blue and a cordon of her friends lining up to block his way, but saw nothing of the sort. Of course, this being a queer event probably meant there weren’t a ton of horny Argentine straight men floating about, but unwanted attention by anyone seemed vanishingly rare. Good vibes were all around, not a party pooper in sight.

We danced some more, took a few champagne breaks, and eventually said goodbye to the group who had been so welcoming to us throughout the day. It goes without saying that we were the first to leave, as the Germans all were determined to stay until it shut down (at the reasonable hour of 10pm, this being a Sunday). Although I would have liked to stay, I was craving a kebab and I had probably drunk more champagne and danced more than the previous 10 years of my life put together, so it was time to leave.

In short, if you get an offer to go to a Berlin club with some locals, say yes. Although if the club is named after a candy bar do some research first.

We closed out the biergarten

Saxony - Germany’s Alabama

After Berlin we traveled to Leipzig to meet Torsten and Regine, and their two children, Ole and Pina. Although Pina is brand new and at this point has less German that we do, Ole is older and was a font of German vocabulary for us. We learned to point at something and say “Ole, was ist das?” and would be rewarded with a new word. At first I thought it must be strange for him to hang out with two people who could only say things like “My name is Matt” and “Are you my friend?” but Torsten informed us that in school he has many friends who don’t speak German yet, so we probably just seemed like oversized children to him.

We didn’t have much time in Leipzig, but it was a lovely town. We managed to visit the Völkerschlachtdenkmal, or Monument to the Battle of Nations. It's a gigantic building dedicated to when Napoleon got his ass whooped at Leipzig during the war of the Sixth Coalition. Within the building are 4 impressive stone men that represent 4 German Virtues, at least according to those who built it: bravery, strength of faith, people's strength, and sacrifice. It's a bit of an odd thing to see in Germany, where any display of nationalism is muted, at best. We'll get into that shortly.

Our plan for the weekend, developed by Torsten months in advance (organizational skills, an actual German virtue) was to leave Leipzig for a very small town in Saxony near the Czech border, Schmilka. At first I thought this may be the home of the legendary Milka chocolate that we had been eating almost daily since our arrival in Europe. I was wrong (it’s in Switzerland), but it was a great place anyway.

The German Virtue of "Strong Liver"

We were informed that Saxony is a bit of a right wing bastion in Germany, home to the strongest support base for the AfD (Alternative for Germany) party. For most Americans, modern Germany seems to be a very liberal nation, and in many ways, this is true. Germany is a leader in renewable energy, progressive healthcare and social programs, and in general is quite progressive compared to the USA. However, as with most countries, there is opposition to this more liberal way of doing things, and in Germany it takes the form of the AfD. As a far-right party, along with an anti-immigration and anti-EU platform, the AfD focuses on reawakening a sense of pride in being German. This includes retaining German customs, language, and cultural identity. In a country where the shadow of WW2 still looms large this is quite controversial, and I think rightfully so. Germany as a country had a lot to answer for after WW2, and although it’s an impossible task to make up for something as terrible as the Holocaust, Germany has made an attempt to confront the past while other countries simply ignore their own atrocities. The USA often turns a blind eye to slavery and the slaughter of Native Americans, and Japan still refuses to acknowledge responsibility for WW2 war crimes, for example. In Germany most forms of Nazi symbolism are banned, museum exhibits directly address the Holocaust and the Nazis, and in general the nationalist mythos that I’ve seen in many countries (including my own) is conspicuously absent from public discourse.

Meissen, another city in Saxony en route to Schmilka

The AfD is fighting against this environment, and gaining support every year. In early October elections were held in the states of Hesse and Bavaria (both formerly West German) and the AfD did better than expected, getting about 19 and 16 percent of the vote respectively. This might not seem like much to an American used to two parties, but in a country with many different parties that is often ruled by coalition, it’s a frightening omen of things to come for many progressive Germans.

So, with all this going through my head I expected Saxony to be something like driving through an isolated town in the deep South of the USA. Maybe some rusted out BMWs in yards with big German flags hanging from the porch, while an old man wearing faded lederhosen with a German Shepard at his feet suspiciously started at our car as we passed through. Fortunately this did not happen. Instead it was beautiful countryside all the way to Schmilka with nary a “Make Deutschland Great Again” sign in sight. In Schmilka we had delicious food, drank some beer, went on hikes, and caught up with Torsten and Regina in between asking Ole “Was ist das?” for various mundane objects.

Of course, going to a small tourist town in the mountains won’t give you a true sense of a place, so I trust that Saxony is indeed experiencing a right-wing resurgence. I think in general Germans are more restrained than Americans when it comes to showing their political colors, so an explosion of right-wing rhetoric and symbols was never going to happen. I did talk to Torsten and Regine as well as other Germans about the AfD and what the resurgence of nationalism means for Europe and the world in general. Their prognosis was bleak, and to be honest, so is mine. As Laura and I move from country to country, it’s clear that having pride in where you are from is a good thing, but when that pride starts to cross the line into a feeling of superiority over others, nasty things start to happen. It’s not unique to Europe, the USA, or anywhere really. It’s a part of being human that we search for a group to belong to, and simultaneously a group to exclude. When that group is your local sports team, it’s relatively healthy (unless you're a Detroit Lions fan). But to believe that your country and culture is truly superior to all others is a recipe for war.

I just realized I figured out how to achieve world peace with that little paragraph above. Please take note of that. Just focus all your nationalistic fervor into a sports team and everything will be fine. The rest of our time with Torsten, Regine and co. was way too short. It was great to see them on their home turf, but I need to visit Leipzig again soon, if only to show Ole and Pina some improved German. I’m thinking something like “My favorite color is green.”

The only photo we could get where we are all in the same frame. A stick helped.

Munich - “It’s 9am, would you like a beer?”

Our final stop on our tour of Germany was a tiny town you may have heard of called Munich. It has a few small claims to fame, including: Headquarters for BMW, home of Bayern Munich (the winningest football team in recent German history), and a little festival called Oktoberfest. But for all these attributes, Laura and I will remember Munich for being the home of two new friends we made in Georgia (it’s a trend), Caroline and Jürgen.

After connecting in Georgia on a multi-day hike, Caroline and Jürgen offered for us to stay with them for a week at their Munich apartment. We quickly ascertained that they were probably not serial killers, so we gratefully accepted. I don’t know what they thought of us, but nobody murdered anyone so it turned out great. When we arrived in Munich on a rainy Sunday, they were both waiting for us at the car rental dropoff point downtown. We got comfortable in the apartment as Jürgen cooked up a hackbraten and provided us with bretzen, spicy mustard, and many other Bavarian delicacies whose names I cannot remember. After this, Jürgen and I went to a Bayern Munich game, while Caroline and Laura watched the game in a bar. Jürgen is a Bayern superfan and occasionally gets tickets to a game (they are a very coveted resource). Usually Caroline goes with him, but in a gesture of generosity that would become a trend, they offered me one ticket and Caroline offered to keep Laura company while I went to the game. Since Laura had never heard of Bayern Munich I thought this was sensible.

During our week’s stay, our friends gave us a grand tour of Munich and the surrounding area. Caroline had to work during the day so Jürgen became our de facto tour guide, ushering us around by foot, by car, by metro, or by bicycle. In the evening we’d meet up with Caroline to have dinner, including one memorable Greek restaurant where I think we all had a few too many shots of ouzo. A few of the most memorable Munich moments:

Getting weisswurst at a local restaurant for breakfast. The tradition for weisswurst is to always eat it before noon and to drink a beer with it. I can understand the before noon part, since it was historically made fresh and spoiled easily, but downing a liter of beer anytime before 8pm is against my personal code of conduct. I’m here to tell you that Germany did not give one shit about my personal code of conduct. I was consuming 1-2 liters of beer every day in Munich and it was terrible and wonderful at the same time.

We're smiling but I assure you we are in pain

Attending a beer festival (NOT Oktoberfest) outside of Munich in the town of Rosenheim. Caroline and Jürgen were careful to tell us that this festival was nothing compared to the scale of Oktoberfest, but it was pretty impressive to me nonetheless. There were loads of Germans donning traditional Bavarian clothes, the beers were truly massive, and we got to ride a Ferris Wheel. The most interesting part of that day for me was seeing Caroline and Jürgen immediately recognize one of the roving servers as their traditional server from Oktoberfest. She had recently decided to only do smaller local festivals to avoid the hassle of Munich, but it was hilarious to see that our friends were such consistent attendees of Oktoberfest that they had their own server connection. This is a level of local street cred that is equivalent to a New Yorker visiting New Jersey and recognizing their bodega guy who moved away from the Bronx a few months ago, then immediately being served a bacon egg n cheese without needing to ask for it.

Watching people surf in the middle of Munich. Being treated to a full breakfast every morning, courtesy of Jürgen and Caroline. Bread, cheese, meat, everything healthy. They knew I love cheese so I was forced to consume several blocks of it during our stay. A terrible burden.

A truly exhaustive tour of the biergartens of Munich. Something new I learned - Oktoberfest only has six breweries represented. These are six of the oldest breweries of Munich, and they all came with local opinion from Jürgen and Caroline: Augustiner (well-liked), Hacker-Pschorr (total trash), Hofbräu (it’s fine), Löwenbräu (it’s ok), and Paulaner (pretty decent). Although there are other breweries in the region, these six are the only beer you can drink at Oktoberfest, and you will likely only be able to get either an Oktoberfest or Helles. The staggering variety of beer that Americans have become used to in the past two decades is just not a common thing in Germany. I do think this is an example of “If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.” The beer is cold, good, and comes in intimidatingly large vessels.

You can see in my eyes that the beer/ouzo combo is starting to take effect

By the end of the week I never wanted to see a beer again. However, I was sad to be leaving our friends and Germany. By connecting with people we met on our travels we turned what was supposed to be a one week stopover into nearly a month of enriching experiences. More importantly, we felt at home on each leg of our German journey. Being told by Torsten’s parents that they loved listening to Black Sabbath on the pirated radio station in the 80s and having a laugh about the prevalence of heavy metal in the GDR, having Olaf and Sandra guide us through the Berlin club scene, playing silly games with Ole while trying to learn the word for “tree” (it’s baum), or just enjoying a few very large German beers with Caroline and Jürgen, these are all memories that are more important to me than seeing the Reichstag or going to a museum. These people made this a marvelous month, and we will be back in Germany soon.