Das Gift

No surprises here then! Presents wrapped in cellophane. 

The art of present giving is quite different in Germany to the UK. Here is what I learnt, the hard way:

Part one, for those with 5 mins to spare who like the hard facts!

1. Germans do not always immediately open your present!

OK, so you’ve handed over the perfect gift and expect your friend to open it, ‘cos they obviously just can’t wait to see what you’ve got them.  Well the thing is they can, it seems. Often, I have the experience that my present is put aside, leaving me in high anxiety as to when the moment will come when it will finally be opened. Then the only tactic to employ involves stalking, cornering and repeating endlessly, “Here’s your present, here’s your present” until they open it and you can relax and enjoy the party.

2.Birthday cards, Christmas cards? What are they? In the UK, I would say the card is just about as important as the present to signify how much you care about friends, but in Germany people rarely send or give cards.

3. It’s wrapped but I can still see the present, duh. For some shops the definition of gift-wrap involves putting clear plastic foil around it and tying it with a ribbon. I mean, where’s the element of surprise? You can see the present through the wrapping. On the other hand, at least you don’t have to wait for your friend to unwrap it.

Part two, for those who feel like having another cuppa and are willing to give their facts the benefit of the doubt. 

I have done a little investigating and I think these little cultural misunderstandings can be easily explained thus:

Germany is bordered by nine countries and has no natural buffer like the English Channel. Therefore trust has always been of particular importance for the exchange of goods. Here, the German language generously supplies further evidence. The German word "Gift" means Poison. It is of little wonder then, that upon receiving a potentially poisonous dose that the most prudent response would be to set such a parcel aside to assess the situation in the due course of time. I know I would. 

The reason for Germans not sending birthday cards is pretty obvious to me. It takes far less effort to write Happy Birthday than Herzlichen Glückwunsch zum Geburtstag.  Little wonder, then, that cards never caught on.

It is recorded that on the 18^th December 1776, in Northern Rheinsberg, Heinz-Peter von Herzhog gave his second cousin removed Hendrik-Franz a birthday present. After waiting for three days and three hours for his cousin to open his present, he finally lost it, ripped the paper asunder with his sword, inadvertently spearing his beloved cousin through the heart in the process. His father Duke Philip von Herzhog decreed that from thence forth that “ye so much as one man cloak his present in obscure papers as to be damned by all the power of wrath need be.” After that word spread through the land that a new transparent material was needed for wrapping up birthday presents to avoid further accidents. Finally, word reached Switzerland and Jacques E Brandenburger invented Cellophane in 1908.

Part three, for those onto their second choccy biscuit who are willing to digress into unknown territory at their peril. 

A cautionary tale of present giving at Christmas. 

Wrapping up presents in cellophane doesn't however always prevent accidents or near poisonings. On the 24th December 2012, W.P. opened a present from her British friend, C.M., safely wrapped in cellophane.  It contained a beautiful looking Praline. She couldn't resist it and immediately bit into it until she was literally foaming at the mouth and had to spit it out in great disgust as it was the most horrible praline she had ever tasted. W.P. remained in a state of shock, digesting the fact that her friend may have tried to poison her, until her boyfriend pointed out what was printed under the the cellophane, for use in the bath only.

Throwing caution to the wind, and the left over crumbs to fizz in the bath, W.P had to admit the enjoyment was lost, as it is one thing having a bath in perfumed oil without having to taste it at the same time. 

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Old bag with school bag

Last Thursday I took part in a self-portrait workshop run by Grace at the 'Trailing Spouses' Art Group. I had brought along my own props: a medium format camera and my son’s schoolbag, as I had an idea about how I wanted to portray myself. The camera represented my college days, and the dreams aspired to since that time towards some sort of career in photography. The school bag sums up my life as a mum, especially as I now carry it everyday for my son. Called a “Tornister”, nearly all German school kids have one. They are squarish, large and robust enough to sit on and you can choose from various themed designs. The thing is, it is so heavy, I end up carrying it for him. I always feel slightly preposterous walking down the road sporting a magenta striped rucksack emblazoned with footballers in mid-action, the straps squeezing my shoulders.

  

I merged the two portraits, to show that I find it hard to draw the line between these two images that reflect myself. Also, this lack of separation often leaves me feeling that I fall short in both respects, firstly as a mother and secondly as a creative and /or professional person.

 I read on the ‘used to be somebody’ by the journalist, Gaby Hinsliff, that she felt a kind of lifting of guilt associated with being a working mum when her child started primary school. She says “…. it is the first time the choice - that terrible, double-edged choice - about whether to be home or not has been completely taken away from me.” In Germany, or at least where I live, there is still very much a choice about how long you leave your child in school. In the school where my son goes to, for example, the lessons start at 8:05 and sometimes finish as early as 11.50am. Then, some of the children are picked up for the day before lunch by their mums(or Dads perhaps), whilst others stay on in the after school care centre, which was founded just seven years ago, until 4.30pm at the latest. So that feeling of guilt is still in the air, when there are still two systems for the stay at home and working mums. This school system is changing in Germany, but there still isn’t one school here in Bielefeld offering the same school hours to all children, starting and finishing at the same time.

On occasion, I have picked up Eric before lunch and we have both really enjoyed the extra time together with my younger son Henry for the rest of the day. I am not actually supposed to pick him up before 2pm. Most of the time I pick him up between 3:00 and 4:00pm, like in the British system. Being self-employed, my workload is fragmented and I need to be able to work through to the afternoon on some days.

I do feel though it is strange, that in Germany you have to book a minimum of 45 hours a week of childcare for the under 3s in a kindergarten (9hrs a day!), which seems a lot, whereas when they go to school at the age of six, you may find the same child only being entitled to attend school for 4 hours a day. After school care is not free. It costs me 130 Euros a month including lunch, although if you have two or more children in a nursery or school, you just pay for the one child with the highest fees, which is good. 

Nevertheless, I do think it would be nice for the atmosphere of the school and the children if they could all be at school at the same time, and all enjoy the Karate, football or cooking clubs etc that are on offer  in the after school care centre. Socially, the school is also divided, for the parents and the children. Children who finish school before lunch are not allowed to use the playground in the afternoon because of insurance reasons. I obviously have more contact with parents whose children are in the after school care because I see them when I pick up my son. 

My experience is that many parents here don’t like the idea of comprehensive education, where lessons take place in the afternoon, because they believe it would be too inflexible and strenuous for the children. They prefer the model of lessons in the morning and an option of after school care in the afternoon, perhaps because of their own educational experience. My husband, for example, was at school from Mondays to Saturdays in the morning, but then he could run around unsupervised with siblings and friends for the rest of the day. I can’t imagine that happening these days. 

So I suppose I will have to get used to that portrait of myself for a while, and the choices associated with it.  In the meantime,  here is a picture of the "Tonni" in its full glory.  

Hand-me-down Haiku

 I’ve always had a liking for the way T-shirts and clothing in general (especially children’s) are adorned with a random sprinkling of words (usually in English, even in other countries).

Curious about the language that Henry wears in his wardrobe of hand-me-downs, I decided to sift through it. I have sorted the phrases into categories:

Sports/Teams:

Team Player

Power Team

Winter Sports

Scuba Diving

Club of One

Crazy Jumps

Ride My Bike

In My Own League

Assertions/Questions

What’s Up? Jumps

 It’s Mine

Esoteric

Air Space in Front of the Other’s Eyes

Some of these phrases have a strange resonance for me: Club of One, for example. What could this mean? How can you be alone, yet belong to a club? This philosophical question haunted me. Are we all destined to be alone, and united only by our oneness? Was this to be seen in a positive light; a blatant celebration of the individual, the breakdown of the traditional family ties and a joyous disregard of the individual’s responsibility to the extended family and society in general?

What’s Up? Jumps sounded like a theatrical script from a fringe production. The actress standing stage left calls into the dark “What’s up?” Cue spotlight. Man in black leotard jumps up and down on the chalky stage. Curtain falls.

Air Space in front of the Other’s Eyes I bet that you have never thought about the air in front of the other’s eyes as being different, say, to air in front of their nose or the air in front of your nose, for that matter. Definitely worth thinking about!

And then there is the brash “Its mine” I mean, isn’t this phrase something we parents squirm at when our kids say it.  “No, darling, please share” we meekly respond, smiling weakly at the other parents as our toddler unceremoniously wrenches treasured toy away from their little sweetheart, adding a push for good measure. Now here we are letting our child walk around with this phrase emblazoned on their chest.  That’s just asking for trouble.

I first became interested in how English is used as a form of decoration way back in 1990 when I was interested in Japanese culture. English type and words were used frequently at that time (early 90s) on Japanese clothing.  I was attracted to the liberal use of nonsensical juxtaposition of words. I liked the banality of the language, the way that the designs imitated a foreign culture with the context removed: A fictional football team that existed in name only on a T – Shirt.  In short, I enjoyed the Japanese art of imitation. And this really is an art. Imitation or reconstructions are not seen as inferior to the original in Japan, as they are in the West. Moreover, what ever it is they imitate, they usually end up doing it better.  In 2002, they hosted the World Cup and thousands of Japanese imitated being a football fan for whatever country they chose to support.  Some “real” fans felt like they took the seriousness out of the game. How could they support Holland or England just as vigorously as they had Japan? They looked the part, but where was the substance? Nine years later Japan swept to victory at the Women’s World Cup in 2011 in Germany, which just goes to show that just because there is imitation doesn’t mean that there is a lack of seriousness. In Japanese culture, the original is not necessarily more highly regarded than the imitation. An example of this is The Golden Pavilion in Kyoto. A three-story temple adorned with gold leaf, burnt down by a crazy monk who was tortured by its beauty, as the story goes, and rebuilt in 1955. It is revered as if it was the original.

Haiku poetry is a high art form in Japan, and Western modern poets have struggled to imitate it. Perhaps the most famous Haiku poet is Basho(1644-1694) who wrote the famous Haiku:

An old pond!

A frog jumps in-

The sound of Water

The Haiku poem often describes nature, the seasons. It should describe and not analyse.

I like this Haiku, which is attributed to Yosa Buson(1716-1784)

Pressing Sushi

After A While

A lonely Feeling

And this one attributed to Issa(1762-1826):

My grumbling Wife

If only she were here!

The moon tonight.

As you can see from the above Haiku, the poem should have two contrasting elements, a cut as it were, a surprise element, if you will.

So, despite not coming from a culture when imitation is valued, and well aware that I don’t have a chance of writing a good Haiku, here is a summary of my week, in Haiku. You may notice that for extra inspiration I have used the phrases discussed above taken from my sons’ clothing.

Ride My Bike

Stolen in the pale moonlight

During the concert

It’s Mine

Yes, but it is on the floor and

I am afraid it has melted

Scuba Diving

In the police force

Is a job I want to do, Mummy.

What’s Up? Jumps

No one complains about the weather

When it is 27 degrees in October.

Winter Sports

But it is 27 degrees

And it is October!

Autumn sun

ladybird sitting on the window frame

Club of One

Airspace in front of the other’s eyes

Too much wine and loud brass

Gives me a headache