my friend has a toothache and the Russians are happy. Is my Deutscher Mann to blame?
Well yes, no and definitely no. For my friend, I think the sweets got her. And now she has the unfortunate fate of dealing with a Russisch Zahnarzt or Putin the dentist. You may seem surprised at the mention of a Russian dentist in Germany. Actually, we have many different nationalities here other than our recent additions that journeyed by boat.
We may live in a small village, but a quick 15 minute ride and we are in the town or Stadt of Schwäbisch Gmünd a cultural metropolis.
Schwäbisch Gmünd (pronounced Shway-bisch Gamunt) has the population of 60,000 and boast over 120 different nationalities, along with having the biggest Markplatz in Deutschland. 36% of the population have an immigrant background and 16% hold foreign passports. The majority of these immigrants are from Türkei (Turkey). At Mittagessen, (lunch) the the entire city of SG smells of fresh baked flatbread and garlic roasted lamb courtesy of the Döner kebap a Turkish sandwich und Deutsches delight.
One great byproduct of integration is that the food is always good. Though, to hear perfect German being spoken without the slightest resemblance to “Hansel and Gretel” (the blond haired blue eyed storybook characters)
– is always mystifying.
As for the Russian constituent, I have met my share of dental professionals. It seems they have found a niche. Russians are touted as some of the most well-educated and smartest people in the world. So you feel that you are in good hands. What is not so good, speaking for myself (the American) if something goes wrong… the word “lawsuit” never applies in Socialized medicine. In the US suing a doctors for malpractice is commonplace, though a little frowned upon. It does though have a way of keeping the system in check. So seeing a doctor or dentist can be a little unnerving. I guess ya gotta eat right, exercise and floss!
As an American running into a Russian, lets say it’s always tense, maybe the Cold war that had something to do with it. Anyway Europeans in general have a very outspoken way of giving you their personal and political opinions as easily as Americans complain about the weather. In my travels, I have had complete strangers walk up to me (after hearing my American accent) and blatantly slam my country, our politics and even the way we speak English. It’s not the Kings English! In retort I gently reminded them of our US freebies – like fighting a couple of wars for them. And for our British friends, remember we don’t drink tea.
My latest encounter was with a Frau from Russia working the bakery counter. When she heard my English accent she asked where I was from? And I proudly said ” Ich komme aus den USA”. (pronounced Uwe, S, Rrr) .
It was as if an atomic bomb exploded.
Her first words to me were “I hate America” in English. I have been to Florida and I hated it. Who could hate the sunshine state of Florida? As she elaborated in mixed German and English further on of her discontent, I politely listened and said, “hmm that’s odd, many people like America”, with a feeble smile. Well that didn’t hold water. A quick exit was really my best defense. And now I would have to face here again! How was I going to get my bread? This was the only place that makes Offënfrisch Brötchen
– fresh bread rolls my favorites!
Alas Donald Trump saved the day. As Frau Putin reminded me on my next visit that tomorrow at 3:00 is the presidential inauguration. She then went on boastfully about how she loves Trump and hates that Hillary Clinton Frau. I just smiled and agreed, I guess I’m in good with the Russians.
I can smell the fresh bread now.
As for the bump on my head, that is my husband’s fault.
In my last blog I recounted about our freezing Schlafzimmer, well it finally reached record lows. My last ditch effort to only heat the room at night, resulted in an ice cold morning. What was I thinking? And this particular morning while I was tossing and turning to keep warm, my lovely German husband was traipsing through the bedroom bringing in firewood at 5:30am! (We have a door in the back of our bedroom that leads outside to a patio stacked with wood).
You see, as much as I would really prefer to start my day with a welcoming cup of hot tea and a foot massage – I live in Deutschland. In our Schwäbian household we don’t use the 3000 litres of oil we bought to heat the 2.5 story house. We burn wood. It’s cheaper. And if you need to start the stove at 5:30 in the morning and wake up your wife – you do.
So as I tossed in disbelief at this act of inconsideration, I then flipped over and hit my head on the the corner of the nightstand.
Bis Später, the American Frau