Hundeleben

Some might say this is a dog-eat-dog world. It definitely is sometimes (or, unfortunately, more often than not) in the Ellenbogengesellschaft of the Federal Republic of Germany where many people schauen nur nach deinem eigenen Arsch (only look after themselves, or literally, only care about their own … behind). It is easy, especially in these times of Verstädterung (urbanization), to become a victim of Vereinzelung–to not fit into a (new) environment, to lack personal relationships. The reasons are manifold. Some people have a tendency to be an Einzelgänger (lone wolf). At other times, it is personal Schicksale (fates) that force one into such a situation: becoming arbeitslos (unemployed), for example, has a certain stigma, makes people self-conscious, they lack money for activities which they had had before, which can lead to not participating in social contacts as much anymore, und so weiter (etc.). The death of a spouse, especially at an older age, is another situation. Add to this the decline of traditional social networks: being part of a local-bound Großfamilie (extended family) in a small village makes it easier to become aufgefangen–to have people who are there for you in times of need to pick you up and help you out–than living hundreds of kilometers away from your Kernfamilie (nucleus family) in a Mehrparteienhaus (multidwelling unit) where no one really knows anybody else who’s living there. Who, then, is often der beste Freund des Menschen (man’s best friend)?

Der Hund.

Ah, Germans and their dogs. Surely in the mind of many, the name “Blondi” pops up. No, not Debbie “Blondie” Harry, but Adolf H.’s favorite Deutscher Schäferhund (German Shepherd), perhaps the quintessential and stereotypical German dog breed, a breed so dangerous that it had to be renamed “Alsatian” in English-speaking countries during World War One (are you still eating liberty cabbage? Or liberty fries?). The Schäferhund conjures up images of almost rabid dogs patrolling barbed-wire fences, being held on a leash either by a Sergeant Schultz type or a fierce-looking SS guy. The Schäferhund, almost as evil as Pickelhauben (spiked helmets) and Stahlhelme (German-style steel helmets). To the Nazi-era Germans of yore (as well as many of their prede- and suc-cessors), the Schäferhund symbolized pure-bred Germanness, loyality, agility, intelligence, and that certain aggressiveness needed to … contain criminals? Guard homes/property/prisoners/borders (against communists/capitalists/Republikflüchtlinge (“desertes from the German Democractic Republic”)/refugees? In any case, from the Kaiser era to the Nazi era, from the days of the intra-German border to today’s G20 protests, Fußball games, and Polizeikontrollen (police stop-and-search), the Schäferhund has held a dear place in the hearts of Germans (or their Exekutivgewalt, the executive). Although most Schäferhunde today are not “German” but Belgian Shepherds (Malinois), but anyways …

The German Shepherd is also typical for the German fascination with perfection. It is a dog breed, a Hunderasse (there it is, the bad “R” word, but in this case it is still politically correct to use it–or is it?), and dog breeds need lots of thought, trial and error, vision, and so on and so forth to reach the ideal. Although this “ideal” often comes with certain Nebenwirkungen (side effects) or even abominations. The German Sherperd, for examle, is known for its tendency to develop hip dysplasia–I mean, what do you expect from a dog that is bred to look like there’s an invisible 100 kilogram weighing down on his hind legs? Even in Germany, not everything is perfect (as if it ever was anywhere).

Der Deutsche Schäferhund is not the only breed to carry deutsch in its name. There is also the Deutsche Dogge (Great Dane–another example for an English-world name change) or the Deutsch-Drahthaar (German Wirehaired Pointer: complicated name, beautiful breed [I am quite partial in this regard], but kind of unknown among many people–although it is one of the most common [hunting] dog breeds in the Land of Deutsh). What they all have in common, except for the Deutsch and their “German” origin, is that their breed descriptions could also be read as the advertisement for would-be-SS members: “He has an attentive and energetic look. His movements are forceful, loping, fluent, and harmonic.” (Translation of the description of the German Wirehaired Pointer).

While many Germans love their dog races, I mean breeds, and are willing to pay accordingly for a pup from a kennel (from “experts” for “experts”), many prospective Hundebesitzer (dog owners) opt for a Hund from the shelter. Although German animal shelters are full of dogs (and cats and bunnies and hamsters and so on), many get a Straßenhund (stray dog) from their Urlaubsreise (vacation), preferably Bundesland number 17, Mallorca (or Spain in general). Or they import stray dogs from Romania or the Balkans. It seems there’s a whole industry (if that’s the correct term–at least it’s a kind of Bewegung, a movement) devoted to saving dogs from the conditions in these countries. Sure, these conditions are horrible (and could be likened to how Germans dealt with Untermenschen some 70 years ago–but then, Adolf himself was also more a friend of dogs than of humans), but for some Germans their rescue missions seem to have taken on the form of a crusade. Which makes me wonder why they don’t kehren vor der eigenen Haustür (look after conditions right in front of them) …

And cleaning up after your doggie-dog is a must-must, at least officially as regulated by German political Gemeinden (municipalities). Hundekacke (dog poop) is more often than not the Zankapfel, the (wait for the pun) bone of contention between Hundehalter (dog owners) and Hundehasser (dog haters). I mean, no one wants to step into a warm pile of dog shit (at least I hope so). Unfortunately, in rather urban areas, it is kind of hard to find a “natural” place for canine nature’s relief, so the Hundekottüte (a “doggy bag” for doggy’s crap) is a helpful device, one that is often even provided via public dispensers. But in the same way that dogs leave their manifold marks, much to the chagrin of a good number of proud garden owners whose flowers and Jägerzäune (those criss-cross spiked wooden fences you often find in Germany) are rotting away because of our best friends’ aggressive urine, they also like to gib Laut (make noise)–read/hear: bark. Officially, dogs can bark for half an hour a day (am Stück–in one piece–or accumulated?) or so, but I have yet to see the bitch (Hündin) or Rüde (male dog) that looks at their watch and says, “okay, enough barking for day” (not even cats are that intelligent). This way or another, it is zuviel, just too much for the Hundehasser, and it seemingly “forces” them to turn to more dire means–as for example, putting glass shards or razorblades or even poison in sausages and leaving that “bait” in much-dog-frequented areas. At least post shared by some of my facebook friends tell me so (“Warning! Hundeköder (dog bait) found in this-and-that locale!”, followed by exasperated comments that in tone are similar if not equal to that of dog haters).

But to come full circle (when you Gassi gehen, take the dog for a walk, you also have to return home at some point), dogs play a highly important role for the lonely. For some, it seems, a dog (or dogs) are an Ersatzkind, substituting for the child they never had. But this is an extreme. More often than not, a dog is a person’s companion, their best friend. A dog is loyal (which, as most of us humans can attest to, people are often not) and it is there for you, licking your face when you wake up in the morning, wagging its tail when you come home, appreciating Streicheln (being petted), and getting their Fresserli (dog food) and Leckerli (dog treats). A dog might not be as “clever” as a cat, but then cats only care for humans because they can’t open cat food cans themselves. And a dog an also be an icebreaker: those who own a dog know that meeting other dog owners on the way often turns into a nice little chat. And sometimes it is a nice little chat that is needed in a dog-eat-dog world.

 

 

 

Fußballverrückt

What are (most) Germans interested in? Autos (cars)? That would be one answer. Wurst? Too many vegetarians these days. And too stereotypical. The Nazis? Many Deutsche want the past to be the past. Beer? Only nach Feierabend (after calling it a day). Nein. If you follow German media these days, it is Fußball–or what the British call “football” and Americans “soccer.” With Bayern München being Deutscher Meister (German champion), UEFA Champions League winner, and Pokalsieger (German cup winner) as well, German soccer ist in aller Munde (on everyone’s mind)–and not just nationally, with two German Fußballvereine (football clubs)–Bayern and Borussia Dortmund–in the 2013 Champions League final and the German Nationalmannschaft (national team) trying to win a Titel (cup), either the Euro Cup or the World Cup, for a couple of years now (I actually TV-witnessed the last of each–1996 and 1990, respectively). But why is Fußball one of der Deutschen liebsten Kinder (one of Germans’ favorites)?

In its early years, Fußball was called die englische Krankeit, the English sickness. Maybe this had to do with Imperial Germany trying to compete with the British when it came to building warships. Or maybe because, despite being alleged cousins, Germans have always looked at the British isles with some sort of contempt (a favorite cussword is Inselaffen–island monkeys–or tying any sort of hereditary sickness with the English, such as not having had some new DNA in their gene pool since 1066 and such). Despite all this, Fußball has become the most famous sport in Germany and the English national football team a Lieblingsgegner of the German Nationalelf. The English only beat (West) Germany once in a final–that was the 1966 world championship final with its infamous Wembley-Tor, which was NOT a goal. Afterwards, (West) Germany has usually kicked out the English, preferably via Elfmeterschießen (penalty shootout), at which the English suck, plain and simple. I remember the Halbfinale (semi-final) 1990, the semi-final 1996, the Achtelfinale (best of 16) 2010 … And I am looking forward to the English getting kicked out by the Germans in 2014.

When the Nationalmannschaft plays, this is one of the few times, perhaps the only one, when a majority of Germans have a least common denominator (aside from those wannabe anti-fascists who generally side with the other team because they think being anti-German is so cool–and especially aside from those Germans who are anti-soccer, a “minority” that should not be overlooked). People don German Fußballtrikots (soccer jerseys), wave the schwarz-rot-gold national flag (or put a miniature one, or several, on their cars, just to loiter the Autobahn with miniature flags that have been ripped off by the Fahrtwind [apparent wind?]), paint their faces black-red-and-yellow, pilgern (go on a pilgrimage) to Public Viewing locations, and mitfiebern (are engrossed with) the Nationalmannschaft and its current match. This has been especially the case since 2006 when the Weltmeisterschaft (World Cup) was im eigenen Lande, in Germany itself. Some might even call it having been a collective hysteria; at least it was a collective experience (and the loss in the semi-final against Italy one of the saddest moments in my life). With sons of immigrants (Poles, Turkish, Afro-Deutsch) playing for Germany, football has also become a means of assimilating those with a Migrationshintergrund (well, Italian-Germans will still most likely root for Italy, while Turkish-Germans will root for Germany even when Germany has beat Turkey). On the one hand, it could be argued that this kind of openly displayed Patriotismus (patriotism) with jerseys, flags, and the whole collective experience are positive, as Germany, as you might have guessed, has somewhat of a problem with being patriotic (maybe shouting HITLER out loud in a room packed with Germans and the accompanying cringe humor will help you understand).

Especially foreigners think it is good that Germans show some love for their country, just as everybody else does (unlike what most Germans expect when they go abroad, especially Americans will not point out the Nazi past first things first when they talk to you, if they point to it at all). Although I root for the German soccer national team, and although I think that some well-measured patriotism is good, and although I like the ethnic setup of the Nationalmannschaft (because, to be honest, at least in this respect Fußball is much more progressiv than most parts of German society), I could not help feeling a chill run down my spine when thousands shouted “Deutschland” in the Berliner Olympiastadion (olympic stadium) in 2006. And that was not a positive chill. Why? 1936 Olympics in Berlin – Hitler – Nazis – Reichsparteitag – Sportpalast – Deutschland shouts – nationalism – racism – genocide – total war. Maybe (wo)man needs the collective experience, but even if one is enthralled with a soccer game, if that person is history-conscious, s/he cannot help feeling somewhat … awkward.

Speaking of German history and what makes something really deutsch … Fußball is. Stepping down from the national level, we are quickly at the regional to local level, as so often with Germany. While Americans play sports at school and root for school, college, and university teams, Germans like their local clubs, the Vereine. Schulsport, sports at school, is just a weak attempt, and a very bad one at that, at keeping pupils/students fit. While there are at times Schulteams, the majority of teams can be found in the Vereinsport, the sports clubs. A small town might only have one Verein while cities like Berlin boast a large number of them, from traditional (usually from the 1800s) to immigrant ones. These clubs are important for local identity, as you kids might play for that Verein and/or you have played/still play for it, you meet neighbors and old friends there, usw. usf. (etc.pp.). Sport, and especially Fußball, is also a way to fight out rivalries between neighboring towns or even within towns.

Fußball can be identitätsstiftend–soccer can actually create an identity. Ever heard of the Pfalz (Palatinate)? Maybe if you were a G.I. stationed in Ramsteim or Landstuhl. Or in Kaiserslautern. The 1. FC Kaiserlautern is one of those Traditionsvereine that give identity to a whole region, in this case the Pfalz. It helps that half of the 1954 world champion German soccer national team came from the 1. FCK, including Fritz Walter, one of the icons of German football (and the FCK was also the first and only team so far to . Perhaps the 1. FCK’s biggest arch rival (aside from Bayern München–but then, almost every German soccer club’s biggest enemy IS Bayern München) is SV Waldhof Mannheim–but, as both teams play in different leagues, a Lokalderby, a local game between these two teams who are about 50 kilometers apart is quiet unlikely at the moment. For a time, Mainz 05, a good 80 kilometers to the northeast of Kaiserlautern was a favorite enemy–the Rheinland-Pfalz Duell (Rhineland-Palatinate duel). And when the FCK plays against VfB Stuttgart or the Karlsruher SC from Baden-Württemberg, it’s a Südwestduell (southwestern German duel). It’s always nice to identify yourself via the other (whether they be Kurpfälzer, Rheinhessen, Badener, Schwaben, or Bayern), isn’t it … Especially when you are a loyal fan to your club, albeit–or especially because of– its ups and downs from one league to the next. Oh well, Germans like to leiden (suffer) and to klagen (moan) …

So if you are in Germany during the Fußballsaison (soccer season) from late August to mid-May (with a winter break from mid-December to mid-January), you might want to try and watch a live Fußballspiel (unless you are an anti-football person, of course). You’ll have the choice from 1. Bundesliga to second and third, Regionalliga, Verbandsliga, Jugendligen, etc. pp. … But please refrain from arguing that England or Argentina or whoever plays good football (German reasoning: it’s not the style that counts but the results!) as it might cost you dearly in Bier, and please don’t wear the wrong colors to the game–it could get you into trouble if you wear them in the wrong Block … “Hooligan” might be an English word, but some Germans have kultiviert it.