Supermarkt

One of the first things Ausländer from abroad learn about German Supermärkte (grocery stores) is that they are not open on Sundays, a relic from times when Germans were (allegedly) more pious and kept Sonntag work-free (though this does not answer my eternal why the Christian Sabbath is not on Saturdays—but then I am just too faul, lazy, to google). Which is, zugegebenermaßen (admittedly), pretty überholt, very old-fashioned, not up to the times, and most of all paradox, as many people do (and did) work on Sundays, aber naja (alas). At least some Supermärkte are now open until 10 or even 12 at night. Still, it is worthwhile to consider going grocery shopping as quite a typical German experience–one type of Einkaufserlebnis.

There are grocery stores (Lebensmittelmärkte?) for jeden Geldbeutel, that is, you can choose from cheap Discounters to more expensive supermarkets, from Aldi and Lidl to Edeka and ReWe, with Penny, Plus, Kaufland, Globus, et al. in between. I’ll leave the nitpicky and detailed, and therefore very deutsch, differentiation between Discounter, Vollsortimenter, SB-Warenhaus, and the like to Korinthenkacker in the know (please don’t hit me, sis). Then there’s the question where you can find a supermarket in Germany. There are the tiny and narrow ones in inner city districts which are frequented by Laufkundschaft, passersby customers who do not use a car but travel about on foot and/or with öffentliche Verkehrsmittel (public transportation)—students, Rentner (retirees), and Anwohner (people from the neighborhood). Many supermarkets though can be found on the grüne Wiese, which means that they are often located in Industriegebiete outside of residential areas on the fringes of towns, especially the big ones like Globus or Real, but also Aldi and Lidl. This is where people do their Großeinkauf, their weekly grocery shopping, which necessitates having a car to pack all your Einkäufe into. This crowd usually consists of Mütter (mothers) and those Werktätige (people with regular day jobs) who do not have the time to go to a supermarket everyday just to buy the bare necessities that are needed—and that fit into a backpack or single Einkaufstüte (shopping bag).

So, when you have parked your car (yes, I know—German Parkplätze are not as generously spaced as American ones, but then most Germans do not drive pick-up trucks that consume half the daily oil output of Kuwait in one drive) and stepped out of it, you will see another Parkplatz—that of shopping carts, or Einkaufswagen. Beware: there’s Pfand on them, a 1 Euro deposit, so you should have a 1 Euro coin ready. Or you are really deutsch and have a little token the size of such a coin ready in your wallet or car. So why the Pfand? Some people not perusing car like to take their grocery shopping home with them in a shopping cart and not return it to its proper place … If you are slightly anal, you will take your shopping cart from the longest row of carts—and return it to the shortest one. This makes it easier for the Supermarkterangestellte (grocery store employees) to stack them.

Enter the Supermarkt (minus the elderly greeter found in U.S. Walmarts). If it is one of the more pricier ones, or one with a bigger selection at least, you will step right into the Gemüse- und Obstabteilung, the vegetable and fruit section. Clever sales analysts and psychologists have found out that this makes people want to buy etwas gesundes, something healthy, which makes them feel good—as well as wanting to buy more and rather unhealthy stuff later. Some Supermärkte require you to weigh certain foodstuffs in this section, ranging from bananas and apples to loose potatoes and onions, while others do this for you at the checkout. Speaking of loose veggies and fruit: some Germans are very discerning customers and will check their Äpfel for dents or the slightest discolorations, taking them up, turning them around, touching and feeling them, and selecting the ones they like best. When I was in Italy, I saw that people there do the same thing—but Italian supermarkets provide single-use plastic gloves for their customers before they start touching everything with their potentially unclean hands. Way to feel like an Ausländer yourself for once …

Some people say German supermarkets are like labyrinths where you can get lost and never find what you are looking for; others say that supermarkets are laid out in a way that you have to pass each section anyway, like at Ikea, therefore creating more opportunities to buy something because people spend time in every Abteilung. (I do not like Ikea. I do not know you, Mr. or Mrs. Salesperson, and I do not want to be addressed with “du” instead of “Sie,” at least not in the way Ikea people do. Ostdeutsche can do that—when Germans from eastern Germany address you with “du,” it is charmant, charming, and most of all comes natürlich, naturally. Ikea is neither charming nor natural.) Welcome to the soziale Marktwirtschaft, social market economy a.k.a. German capitalism. A similar sales trick is to put the Markenprodukte, more expensive brand name products, in your natural line of sight (I wonder if there’s a median for that—people at 1 meter 90 look at the world differently than 1 meter 60 ones …) while the cheaper Noname-Produkte or Hausmarken (products from the supermaket’s own brand[s], often made by brand companies), are found in the lower tiers of the Regale. This is not the case, for example, at Aldi. There you’ll find mostly “no name” brands—and less variety than for example at Kaufland. Short aside: there’s Aldi Süd and Aldi Nord. Depending on where you grew up and where you are now living in Germany, you either like one or the other—people used to Aldi Süd cannot find certain products at Aldi Nord and vice versa, making them not only nostalgic but pretty pissed off. By the way, Aldi in the States is Aldi Süd—and Trader Joe’s belongs to Aldi Nord. (The Aldi brothers sliced up the world equally in order not to sich in die Quere kommen—to not have to compete with each other.) I have only seen few products in American Aldis that I knew from the fatherland. And over here, you do not have to go to a “organic” or Bio place like Trader Joe’s to find Haribo gummy sweets and Ritter Sport chocolate—and they are less than a Euro for a bar and not like 2 or 3 Dollars … So head to a German supermarket to provide your siblings and family with cheaply-bought German (or Swiss, like Lindt) name brand sweets before you return stateside after your semester or stay abroad!

When you have finally made your way past all the different sections—from vegetables to pasta to frozen food to coffee to personal hygiene products—you’ll find yourself in front of the Kassen. Depending on how many of them are manned, you have the Qual der Wahl—which queue in front of a which cash register seems to be the quickest one? Possibly not the one with the two Hausfrauen in line who have two weeks of grocery in their shopping carts. Perhaps you’ll be cursing your Supermarkt of choice for not opening enough Kassen. Or it’s Saturday or the day before a Feiertag—expect gazillions of human beings doing last-minute buys. Well, there you go—it’s finally time to put everything on the Einkaufsband. If you have children, expect them to grab some sweets that are usually found at cash registers. Quengelnde Kinder, whiny kids that stomp their feet on the ground shouting “Aber ich will das haben!” (I want that!), are not uncommon. Or maybe you try to stop smoking—good luck with that, as there are conveniently placed cigarette pack disposal machines at the cash register that will throw eine Packung Marlboro or Lucky Strike right on the Einkaufsband. Hopefully you have also weighed your loose lemons … And don’t expect anyone to fill shopping bags for you. It’s best to bring your own bag (preferably a Baumwolltasche of cotton—Germans carried tote bags before Hipsters thought that was cool). If not, prepare to pay 15 cents or so for a plastic bag, du nicht vorausschauender Umweltsünder (you foresight-lacking, environment-polluting person, you)!

Of course there are also other grocery shopping experiences, or venues. You might come across a Tante Emma-Laden in some small village, often a bakery that also sells some canned goods and pasta plus the ubiquitous Bild “newspaper.” Many a Gutmensch lament the downfall of these small shops due to böse (evil) big corporations. There are also small grocery markets run by immigrants, such as Türken or Chinesen. The former is for if you crave some lamb and beef minced meat to make Köfte, the latter is your supply for Siuracha hot sauce. For others, it is their gateway to get a little taste of home in the new Heimat. The eco-conscious Deutsche with money in their wallets are patrons of the Wochenmärkte, farmers’ markets, found on—the Markplatz (gee, now we have that etymological question solved too!). The vegetables and fruit are pricier there, but you’ll buy local (at least stuff that’s home in Germany, from sausages to honey) and more or less organic (the coveted Bio).

In any case, the grocery shopping scene is varied and you’ll surely find your favorite(s). Well, some people only go to a certain Supermarkt because it is just plain and simple conveniently located. More discriminating others will find something here and something else there, driving from a cheap to a more expensive grocery store until they have finally found every item. It’s all about (not) being wählerisch, selective. Oh, wait—that might be problematic when you’re German, if you know what I mean …

Winterchaos

Alle Jahre wieder. It’s the same every winter when the first snowflakes slowly fall from the grey, Winterdepression-inducing sky: winter chaos on German roads, railway tracks, airports, and sidewalks. As if they had never experienced snow before (or changing seasons, for that matter—it’s always too hot in the summer and too cold in the winter for immer wieder aufs Neue suprised Deutsche), Germans struggle to cope with Schnee. Everyone who has not switched summer for winter tires (Sommer- und Winterreifen–all season tires are for Americans) either slides across the road for some Blechschaden or frantically tries to get a Termin with their Autohändler, an appointment with their car dealership of choice to get the season-correct tires montiert (I suggest to have that done BEFORE the first snow will mostly likely fall, but so much concerning the world-renowned Voraussicht, the farsightedness of Germans who usually plan everything in advance—or so you would think). At least you might get some blankets and hot beverages from the Deutsches Rotes Kreuz (or the Johanniter [Protestant] or Malteser [Catholic] paramedics or whoever comes along in their Krankenwagen) when you are snowed in, or eingeschneit, on the Autobahn. Maybe all those with eingebaute Vorfahrt should wait for the Schneepflug in front of them to plow away the snow instead of overtaking it and then possibly sliding straight to death instead of cursing the driver of the plow.

And beware of the Deutsche Bahn (this Institution begs for an entry of its own on this blog). In the summer, you might pass out because the Klimaanlage (AC) is out and windows cannot be opened. In the winter, you might want to think of taking extra clothing with you so you don’t freeze to death, or erfrieren, in a Deutsche Bahn railroad car. Or at least bring some extra time with you because the Deutsche Bahn might have trouble clearing snow off the tracks, thereby leading to Verspätungen (delays). A little snowfall can also aus dem Konzept bringen an airport—it screws up its daily Schönwetter (fair weather) routine. Runways need to be cleared, airplanes defrosted. Beware of Verspätungen.

Many things in Germany are regulated. One regulation states that the owner of a house has to clear the sidewalk in front of it off snow (in some towns 1.50 meters, in other 1.75 meters, in wieder anderen … you get it). If you live in a rented apartment, you might want to check your contract—because it might stipulate that YOU have to do the Schnee schippen (lucky you if the janitor takes care of that). And don’t forget to streuen—either throw salt or gravel (Streusalz and Winterstreu–what a fancy name for sand or Splitt) on the cleared path. One could only wish that everybody actually did Schnee schippen and streuen … But that is only wishful thinking, and because of Germans’ erratic snow clearing regime, walking becomes something like a Hinderniskurs, an obstacle course, circumventing icey sections, crossing the street to avoid Tiefschnee parts of a couple of centimeters of snow, just to cross it again. Hals- und Beinbruch (break a leg)–literally.

I enjoy Schnee. But only when I sit in a warm room and watch the Schneeflocken (snowflakes) pile up on each other outside. There are the Wintersportbegeisterte, the winter sports fanatics, though. Not all of them are Bavarian. Actually, es gehört zum guten Ton (it’s customary) to have your kid practice the Klavier (or piano), send it to Gymnasium, and do a winter vacation or two (which need not be around Weihnachten [Christmas] but could also be around Ostern [Easter] where the Schneekanonen [snow cannons] roam), most preferably in the Alpen (Swiss and Austrian Alps are fine) to do some Skifahren, skiing (or snowboarding for the more youthful—or whatever is in at the moment). Abfahrt, or Ski Alpin, that is. Langlauf (cross-country skiing) is not hip enough (and you would “only” go to the Sauerland or eastern Germany for that, and who actually wants that). If you lack the funds for such trips, at least buy your kids a Schlitten (sleigh) and see if you can find a hill near your Reihenhaussiedlung of alike-looking houses. There will still be time to watch the winter olympics or some other winter sports tournament where Germans win all the medals …

Each winter day is a day less until summer arrives.