Moving to Germany

In my time-lapse POV

Photo by Tyler Clemmensen on Unsplash

Germany and I

10 full years of Germany.

I learned to pronounce simple English words wrong, I like teeth-crushingly hard bread, I look for bread-balls (brötchen) instead of toastable slices, and I feel an immense sense of guilt while dumping my trash into public trash cans at tram stations without separating for recycling.

I also have a Master’s degree from a German Uni, worked for three major car-makers, two Automobile Service Providers, and one consultant.

In the 10 years, I also made one very good German friend. My former landlady. Coming from usually stone-cold German disposition, her acknowledgement that I was like her daughter was larger than a compliment. (Hours after she acknowledged me, I embarrassed her by showing up to the Ballet in a Mickey Mouse crop-top, repeatedly yawned, then fell asleep during the show. The rest of the party were dressed in black-tie, sipping champagne.)

The Fatherland

Photo by Kai Pilger on Unsplash

At about the 8-year mark in Germany I was officially accepted into the country with “Einbürgerung” — citizenship. (ngl, this was a cakewalk…