There's no such thing as bad weather

Just bad clothing

There are three ways to make a German happy:

1. Sunshine

2. Boats

3. Bicycles

Individually: geil

used with another: richtig geil

all three combined: MEGA geil

For those unfamiliar, geil is German slang used when describing something really good. Directly translated, however, geil means horny.

I learned a lot about Germany after learning this.

I’ve spent the last three years deciphering and decoding the culture that happens to be half of me. So trust me when I say, the above formula (happy Germans) has gone through numerous iterations of R&D.

Germans are a tough cookie to crack. Why? Not because they won’t tell you what’s on their mind - because they certainly will - but because they spend 65% of the year without the sun. It that doesn’t toughen you up, I don’t know what will.

The Germans have a saying: “there’s no bad weather, just bad clothing” so you bet that I, coming fresh off the shores of sunny SUNNY Los Angeles, spent lots of time embarrassingly underdressed. It took me two years in Germany to finally figure out how to layer.

Back to smiling Germans - if you take a closer look at the variables, an quiet common denominator is summer.

Don’t get me wrong, I’ve seen a German bust a move on a bike in February, but the experience seems (now this is an assumption, but I stand by it), not so enjoyable. Riding a bike in the winter can only be done with a frown on your face. I’ll take bets on this on.

Thus leading me to conclude that the above formula has a dependency on the season - to what extent? I’m still crunching the numbers.

However, that may not be needed because this past weekend, a fourth variable entered the chat. A variable, that may even be seasonally agnostic.

What is it you may ask? Well let me give you some hints:

They are long in shape and short in stature…. Germans love them (in all their forms)

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“Guten morgen dackel!” Our conversation gets sliced short by a pleasant looking woman wearing a hand knit bright blue cardigan. We turn and smile back at her. First she looks at us, then down at Otto, and then back at us. Her final gesture was a nod of approval directed to all three of us before she continued down the cobblestones.

Otto, the dachshund we’ve been taking care of for the past few days entertained her gaze out of courtesy, but then continued to march on - not taking his eyes off the road.

That was not the first time our conversation was interrupted that morning. Someone always had something to say to the three of us. Block after block, words of affirmation came flying our way, and just to clarify, I don’t live on some real-life equivalent of Sesame Street. I live in Kreuzberg - a place where friendliness can only be earned.

I like my neighbourhood, but I’ve never really bantered with the folks around here, but once the dog came in, it’s like everyone wanted to invite us over for kaffeezeit (German afternoon tea).

Two years ago, A and I went kayaking on the lake. It was summer (obviously), and we kept crossing paths with Germans on their boats. This was the first time I had ever seen consistent bliss from every interaction I had with a German. Thus, I isolated the variable and boats landed on the list.

When we were with Otto, the exact same reaction would happen, except we were the ones driving the boat! Remember seeing the first people walk around wearing Apple Airmax headphones? That’s how people look at us with this dachshund. Otto, the dachshund in question, is an absolutely handsome hound.

Two handsome men

His short, chocolate coloured coat is speckled with notes of caramel, he’s got the signature dachshund trot that is just irresistibly adorable, and his bone structure is simply phenomenal - it could be that people were just complimenting his individual appearance. With that in mind, we went to the evidence. However, upon intense investigation, we concluded that the compliments were rather general: highlighting his breed as a whole instead of singling him out. Seems like dachshunds are the achilles heel to German grumpiness.

The more we thought about it, the more it made sense. Dachshunds are German-bred (nicknamed dackel, incase I didn’t clarify), and they are ridiculously cute. It’s like diving a mini in the UK, hometown pride is more potent than we think. This was also perhaps the one instance that I felt a sense of German pride without lederhosen involved. Dachshunds don’t walk, they trot: chests puffed out and all, but given their small stature, the harsh gesture softens. If a human walked that way, I think it would make people slightly uncomfortable.

Pride in Germany and it’s culture tends to be on the quieter sides of things, yet the dachshund is perhaps the perfect outlet for pride to shine. I mean, if I created this breed, I would too! Not only are they ridiculously cute, but they are also ridiculously practical. Trained to kill, these dogs have an impressive sense of cognition, making them eager to learn. Cute and cuddly, yet vicious enough to bark away any potential threat. (Ours scared away a pick pocketer, I’d like to see Wasabi, my malteese poodle do the same).

The following ingredients are at play right here: hometown pride, cuteness, practicality, and the most critical, a disregard for seasons. Having a dachshund checked off these boxes, giving the public an experience I could only create in collaboration. Otto was like the mutual friend connecting two strangers: making a point of connection that only chance could create.

Unfortunately, our time in the limelight has come to a close. We took our final victory lap around the block, drinking in the smiles and nods of approval as we strut down the street as if it was a red carpet. Otto has gone back to his mama, and now the only dog in our house is a Stroopy plushie (Tin Tin, in case you’re confused).

Safe to say, this dog sitting experience was pretty life changing - one that may have singlehandedly increased my German-ness by 10% (and it didn’t matter the quality of my down jacket!)

the trinity (boat photograph is not from berlin)

We are sad to see him go, but we know our goodbyes are just a see you later. So if you ever find yourself around a grumpy German: keep the rules of three in mind: go into the sun, get on a boat, tell them they’ll cycle, and if all else fails, find a dachshund. Trust me, it’s science ;-)

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Nice to be back here - looking forward to the next time.

xo

P