Seven Years and Finally Making Sense
By: MJM- Koch - 10.03.2006

It was an ugly November day when I arrived in Germany seven years ago. My boyfriend, (now my husband), met me at the airport with flowers and a bunch of thick clothes my then future-mother-in-law bought for me. I was thrilled with the thought that I was about to walk into a huge freezer and see snow for the first time. There was no snow that time but cold enough to make me shiver. I went to the comfort room to change my clothes and realized it was the cleanest place I've ever been so far. Back home, I had to live with my mother's chaotic household and grew up in an environment where cleanliness is obviously not a priority. I needed to adjust my eyes to the sudden change of surroundings. Not only the comfort rooms looked pleasing to me but also the people. Well-groomed, white individuals who do not seem to have to sweat for a living.

Once on the road, I could not avoid noticing the German drivers who stay in their lanes and only overtake you on the left side without necessarily blowing the horn. Back in the Philippines, driving a car means overtaking in all possible ways and getting your head blew-off in a bad traffic day. It was definitely my first time to be in the streets without hearing the endless ``toot-toot´´ of vehicles. Traffic signs, I noticed are clear and strictly followed. Four years later however, while applying for a driver's license, I wished Germans are a bit loose like Filipinos. As I struggled to pass the driver's test, I thought of the much easier ``under table´´ system at home.

Another thing I noticed was the absence of sky-scrapers. I remember imagining my husband on our long-distance conversations, sitting in his office somewhere on the 30th floor of a building or even higher. With my Americanised Filipino mind, it was a little disappointment. Later though I was embarrassed to admit that I was just too less informed to appreciate other culture. My husband finds it amusing until now that I slept while watching Phantom of the Opera in Hamburg few days after I arrived. Fortunately, I could blame the jetlag for that and excuse myself for missing one of Europe's masterpieces. I wonder what he'd think if I tell him now that I was bored the first time I saw the Dome in Cologne. All that I cared about was taking pictures of myself in front of a church. Well, big church. And while in Paris on our honeymoon, I asked my husband to take me to Disneyland and visit Mac Donalds instead of museums. Talk about making up childhood events. Not really relevant when you're in the city of art and romance.

Like other Filipino wives in Germany, I had to go through a lot of new things. One of them in my case, was the washing machine. There are of course washing machines in Philippines but I wonder if they would also shrink your clothes if you happen to take the wrong program. I remember transforming one of my shirts into a baby dress. And reading the electric iron instructions only after it exploded. Since then, I noticed the laundry disappearing every time my mother-in-law was in the house. She'd deliver them back ready-to-wear on her next visit. Not knowing much about emancipation that time, I really didn't mind. Not of course after seven years. Now she needs an invitation before entering the house and absolutely no interventions allowed.

Aside from familiarizing with the washing machine and other household chores, I had to learn to`` speak clearly.´´ That means saying ``maybe´´ only when I'm not sure and ´´yes or no´´ for definite answers. A German who visited Philippines as tourist, described Filipinos as kind-hearted, harmonious people who would not want to disappoint you when you ask questions. They will gather around you and discuss in chorus about the needed information. Everybody has something to say but nobody would admit he doesn't know the answer. So expect to be navigated here and there when you ask for a certain address. And while this German collected impressions in my country, my husband married a concrete example. Seven years and I'm still trying to get the German exactness.

All of the above is not so dramatic as introducing Filipino customs and traditions to my husband. I remember his confused face the first time I prepared for a Philippine trip. Not yet aware of the Filipino ``bring-home´´ tradition, he could not understand the point of carrying heavy tons of chocolates and perfumes for people you would, once at home, probably also have to invite for lunch or dinner while you distribute gifts. It's like carrying the Red Cross with you while on vacation. Now my husband is finally used to the Filipino illusion that money abroad lie in the streets and it's a moral obligation for the ``rich foreigner-husband´´ to share his blessings. And to avoid culture-clashing with his wife, my husband chooses to compromise. I, on the other hand, chose not to be forever grateful and decided a total culture-shift. Seven years And Germany is still far a dwelling place... but the good news is: I'm finally making sense! MJM- Koch