Little Germany

Last night Torsten and I went to a German restaurant with a friend. It was one of those hole-in-the-wall type places, one that looks like a deli/grocery store from the front--in fact, we didn't even know that it was a restaurant until our friend suggested that we go there for dinner.

Dinner was good--unassuming atmosphere to say the least, lots of traditional German fare, including schnitzel, bratwurst, spaetzle, and Oktoberfest beer, plus black forest cake for dessert. We had a nice meal with good conversation, and after dinner, Torsten spent forever admiring the German items for sale in the grocery section. There were jams and chocolates and prepared mixes for traditional German food. We were tempted by the mohrenkupf, but Torsten was afraid they wouldn't be fresh, so we passed. We did come away with some Kinder chocolate and a bar of marzipan, though. Along with many promises from Torsten to come back soon. He was thrilled.

The funny thing was that it was weird to me to see all that German stuff right there on a shelf for anyone to buy (at a high price, of course... I guess the exchange rate plus the shipping costs plus the import tax plus the need for profit explains that, but still). All those products were things that I had never heard of until the first time I went to Germany with Torsten, and that I associate very much with being in Germany.

It reminded me of the first time I went back to France to visit my host family after I spent a year there without any breaks. That year felt like a separate entity, like a whole different world--as though I had broken some sort of time-space continuum to get there. While I was there, when people asked me if I was going back to the U.S. for the holidays, I always felt shocked--like I couldn't leave in the middle and go home, even for a short trip, because I would never be able to get back there.

And then the year ended, and I went home, and I compartmentalized everything that had happened during my year abroad into a place in my mind where nobody else could be, a history that only I knew about. I kept in touch with my French friends and host family but it felt like getting letters from outer space.

But then I went back for a visit. And then another visit. And then I visited with my parents. And then my French host brother came to visit me, and met my sister. And my French host family will be here for my wedding. By now those two aspects of my life are wholly mixed, almost like they're... ONE LIFE or something ludicrous like that.

So I suppose I should have seen it coming. After all, I've been to Germany with Torsten twice, and his parents have been here, and met my family, and sat on our couch. So it's not so much them that I associate with a different world... it's Germany itself, and all the smells and sounds and the general atmosphere it has. And apparently, typically German groceries are a big part of that. And seeing them in a random deli in DC was like running into E.T. on the Metro.

Of course, both Germany and the U.S. are home to Torsten in different ways. I wonder if he felt the same way about seeing some of his favorite German things casually for sale in the middle of DC. I didn't ask. Maybe I should have.