It’s been six and a half months now since I left Germany to study abroad in the United States. This is not my first time of being over here. Actually, I’m feeling very much at home on the other side of the Atlantic. My second cousin in Texas always says I “hop across the ocean as if it were a puddle.” I guess I fit in quite well by now; at least, it’s been a while since the last time that someone noticed that I’m a foreigner or said to me “You have such a cute accent! Where are you from?” And I love it. I love that I have managed to adapt to American culture to an extent where no one can tell that I wasn’t born and raised here.
I’m not exactly sure when that adaptation process started, but it probably all began, when I was about eight years old singing along to songs like Jessie by Joshua Kadison and Give it away by the Red Hot Chili Peppers on the radio. Although, singing along is probably saying a bit too much considering I didn’t even know any English then. As soon as my brother, Michael, started learning English in school, I started asking him how different words are pronounced and what they mean. I remember asking him over and over again about a band name on one of the posters in his room. “It’s EAST SEVENTEEN,“ he would say, obviously getting annoyed. I couldn’t wait to finally be in fifth grade and learn English myself.
My first years of English in school were a breeze; it all seemed to come to me almost naturally. I enjoyed doing my English homework and studying irregular verb forms. I even thought about the everyday words and grammar we learned in school during my everyday life. Sometimes, I would even talk to myself in English when I knew there was no one around. So, while my grades in Math and other subjects dropped from an A in elementary school to a C in secondary school, I received mostly As and a few Bs in my brand-new, favorite subject English.
At the beginning of seventh grade, my grandparents promised my brother and me to take us on a trip to visit our relatives in Michigan the following spring. Of course, we had to fulfill our part of the deal first. “We’re only going to take you guys if you bring home some good grades on your mid-year report cards,” my grandfather said with a wink. I knew we would get to go with them even if our grades weren’t going to be outstanding.
The day we got our report cards that February, my brother and I raced home on our bikes. Taking the corner onto our street, I could already see my grandparents car. We jumped off the bikes, leaving them on the driveway, and ran into the house. Both of us were really out of breath. My grandmother just started laughing when she saw us. She and my grandfather, with his boyish grin, were sitting in the kitchen together with my mother. “Let’s see these report cards,“ said my grandfather, so we gave them to him. After what seemed like forever, he looked up. “I guess that’s good enough,“ he said with a smile on his face. Then, my grandmother told us that we were going to fly to Michigan for my second cousin Ralph’s wedding in May.
At school, I told my friends about my upcoming trip. Soon, I began to think of things I needed to bring: something nice to wear for the wedding, my walkman for the long flight, and my camera. And I had to save up money, because I wanted to buy cool American things to show off when I got back home.
At last, three months of waiting had come to an end, and it was time for the four of us to start our trip to the other side of the Atlantic with a nine-hour flight. While our grandparents were trying to catch some sleep on the airplane, Michael and I used the time to get ourselves ready for all the English we were going to be exposed to over the next two weeks by watching some movies and listening to the radio in English. I don‘t remember what movies we watched, but I got a bit scared by how fast everyone was talking. I asked my brother if he understood everything that was being said. “No. You just have to keep watching, though,” he said. So, I did.
Around four o’clock in the afternoon, my great-aunt Inge, who was also the only one we knew over here who could speak German, picked us up from the airport. My brother and I were exhausted but still too excited to fall asleep on the ride to her house. Our grandparents already knew everyone from their previous trips and had told us a little bit about our relatives. Yet, we kids couldn’t wait to meet everyone over the course of the following days.
One day, we went to a nearby lake, where the grown-ups took us kids to ride in the boat and on the tube they were pulling across the lake. My brother and I had the time of our lives – we didn’t know anyone back home who owned a boat, so that was our first time of going tubing on a lake. We had a huge barbecue with hamburgers, hot dogs, soft drinks, and cookies for dessert, and the entire family was there. I remember thinking this must be what America is about.
On other days, we had dinner at someone’s house. One time, we drove out to Ralph’s house, which actually is an old farmhouse. He also still has an old barn standing on his big piece of property. We had another barbecue, and my brother and I got to ride the lawn mower. Again, back home nobody we knew had one of those, so we were really excited about it. “Make sure not to crush the little pine trees over there. I just planted them last year,” Ralph said, but my brother was a bit too enthusiastic driving the lawn mower; that was the end for those pine trees.
Of course, our relatives also took us to the nearby malls. I loved all the stores and that I got to pay with the American dollars I had gotten from my bank in Germany. A bit confused about the conversion rate, I spent way to much on a tie-dye shirt and a candle, which I thought looked really cool. “Are you sure you don’t want to return this stuff?“ Inge asked after she saw the price tags. But I kept my overpriced shirt and candle; it was my cool American stuff. What really impressed me, though, was the politeness I encountered. “How are you?“ and “Can I help you find something” were the first two things I heard whenever I entered a store, and inside, everybody constantly apologized for almost bumping into me or blocking my view.
On the wedding day, Inge helped me get all dressed up and ready before we had to head out to go to church. I have to admit that I didn’t understand everything, but the wedding was beautiful. Later, at the reception, we all danced and laughed and had the greatest time together; I felt like this was where I belonged.
Since I had only had a little under three years of English in school, I didn’t talk a whole lot during this first trip to the USA; I just listened closely and tried to follow everyone’s conversation, because by the time I had figured out what I wanted to say their conversation had moved on to a different topic. Still, everywhere we went I quickly felt at home. All those strangers that were my family were so welcoming and loving that I couldn’t help but feel comfortable around them.
As a matter of fact, I enjoyed my stay and being around my relatives so much that I decided to use all the money I got for my confirmation on a five-week trip to visit them over my summer break the following year. After that I wanted to go back to the US to stay for a year and go to high school, but my parents said I was too young to be away from home for that long. Moreover, it would have been really expensive. So, after that plan fell through, I decided to finish high school in Germany and then come back to be an AuPair for a year. Even during my time as an AuPair, my relatives were always just a phone call away and helped me to get used to living in a part of the US I hadn’t been to before. Thereafter, I kept coming back every summer to visit friends and family in Illinois, Wisconsin, Idaho, Michigan, and Texas, and now, I’m an international student at College of DuPage.
Over the years, the USA have become my second home. Of course, I don’t like everything over here, but I don’t like everything in Germany either. Just the same, it doesn’t matter which side of the Atlantic I’m on, I’m always missing something from the opposite side. I’m sure that I wouldn’t know these feelings if it hadn’t been for my grandparents and my relatives over here, and without them I might not be “the family’s globetrotter” that I am today.
Friday, February 26, 2010
Home is Where the Heart Is
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