We landed in the Berlin Airport on June 8th at precisely 11am. From 3pm to 2am plus the 9 hour time change, the sun never set (I wouldn’t see dark skies until the night of June 9th). My eyes were bloodshot from the lack of sleep; my body ached from the ridiculously cramped seats in which stretching your legs (or anything for that matter) was physically impossible, and I was hot, sticky and drenched in my new found hatred for the metal beast whose furnace-of-a-stomach I was forced to wallow in for 11 straight miserable hours. But it all went away when I slumped my way through customs, looked upon the crowd of earnest spectators and saw him.

He was much taller since I’d last seen him, the day my sisters and I waved him off at the Fresno airport at 4am in the morning (yes, that’s how much we loved him). Now here we were, exactly one year later in opposite positions only this time it was an arrival, not a departure. His navy blue polo, white skinny jeans, and loafers were classic German teenager and a nice change from the modern American style. His messy blonde hair looked the same as it always did on our usual Sunday morning Facetime chats, but seeing it in person made it all the more wonderful. I ran to give him a hug but my darn sister beat me too it. I impatiently waited for her to let go, shoved her aside and squeezed him as hard as I could with my weak little noodle arms in the most cliché of reunion scenes.

I remember my older sister saying, “Why waste your time being friends with a foreign exchange student? You’re never going to see him again”. Well we shoved that juice box right down her throat and watched her suck because here we were 5,641 miles away and once again in the midst of Christian. I couldn’t contain my excitement. My lips were curved in a permanent smile and…and…I was speechless! Christian, Nala (his mom), my mom, my sister (Emily) and I all piled into a car definitely not meant for 5 people and 3 weeks worth of suitcases. Thank goodness it was only a 15 minute ride and by that time, cramped spaces were my forte anyway. I was stoked to be with Christian, but it was incredibly hard not to stare out the window in wonder. Berlin was nothing like I imagined! It was so Green! Roads were covered in lush canopies of tall vine like trees and opulent plants and flowers threatened to invade the sidewalks at any moment. The buildings were a perfect mixture of new and old. Modern and historical. There would be a huge government building, neoteric architecture with shiny glass window walls, on one side of the canal, and then across the way, a 1500’s Cathedral, caked in elegance and spectacular detail, would stand minding its own business. And the people! There were so many people. On the street. Like….walking! There were no big cars on the roads because public transportation was so advanced. It was practically unheard of to drive to work or into the city because railroads and busses were less expensive, connected everyone to everything, and completely overshadowed the hassle of stoplights, traffic, and gas.
But best of all was the simple concept of experiencing a culture from the perspective of a citizen, a German local, and not a tourist. In this light, I was able to live in an actual German neighborhood, with an actual German family. And instead of taking tours and googling “things to do and see in Germany”, I was taking on the role of a normal German teen and undergo the things they would. We went to buy groceries at food marts, cooked our own meals, played tennis at a club, and soccer at a church. It was so fascinating to compare the lives of Germans to that of Americans. Their homes were not filled with a plethora of useless knickknacks and decoration. Instead they focused on necessity and quality. The Kitchen was small and homey but the electrical appliances, like the dishwasher and stove, were fine examples of advanced technology. There weren’t a billion dish sets, just 2, and never ever did we use plastic plates. Breakfast was my favorite part of the day because everyone sat together outside and we drank coffee out of fancy teacups and consumed boiled eggs out of little egg holders. There was always a basket of assorted breads, cheese, and jams and a slice of pink grapefruit for each person. Though dinner wasn’t as reveled in as the morning (there was always the subconscious cloud of “another day gone” hanging over our heads) it was still quite entertaining. Christian’s brother, Felix, would come home from work and we’d help him practice his English. This exact inexperience made him especially humorous. It was a great brain exercise interpreting his English and trying to make sense of it. My family and I made sure to be extra careful with our slang and colloquialisms. When Germans are taught English, they learn the literal meanings of terms which are not always how they are used. I once asked Felix if he ever “threw any parties”. He told me he didn’t understand, and I realized that, through a German’s interpretation of English, that phrase didn’t make any sense. A phrase, never questioned in America, where English was the dominant language, couldn’t be translated into the true English form Germans were being taught. Even more difficult was trying to explain “throwing a party” in other words. Do you put on a party? Even that, taken extremely literal, is a little confusing. Do you have a party? You can’t physically have possession of a party. It just showed me how figurative and evolved our language had become through the simple twisting of our vernacular and how in some ways, American truly is its own unique language.
I love talking to people, it is my favorite past time, therefore the worst part of the whole trip was definitely not being able to speak German. Christian and his brother would hold conversations right in front of me and I would get so frustrated not being able to join in. Even on the streets when we went shopping, I felt so alien. I couldn’t understand billboards or newspapers. I missed the low hum of comprehendible human conversation around me. Though I never really listened, I always knew it was there. I always had an Idea of what people were saying and where they were going in America. I felt as if I were a part of the lives around me by just being in their presence. Here I was completely and literally lost for words. And I’m pretty sure my face said it all. There might as well have been a huge flashing sign above my head displaying AMERICAN in Giant Red block letters and begging people to talk crap on me just because I was utterly defenseless. A few times, I got so desperate as to have Christian listen to passer byers and have him relate their conversations back to me just to keep my head from exploding.

One of the most distinguishable factors of Germany and its social culture is its legal drinking age of 16. In America kids drink even when it’s illegal. They throw parties with beer and whatnot and that’s the “cool” thing to do ya know? But in Germany, that’s just what they did. Everyone drank and partied because there was nothing wrong with it. Christian’s graduation shindig had an open bar! Can you imagine having an open bar at your graduation? Exactly. It was such a different atmosphere. The girls all wore quite modest clothing and the boys were very neatly put together. In one word: classy.

It’s amazing, the differences in culture and atmosphere around the world. Each unique to its own land, shaped and sculpted by events made over thousands and thousands of years. Each with its very own people and way of life. Each developing into the place it will be tomorrow, providing a home for its people born tomorrow, and defining itself everyday by the actions unraveled each moment.