WW3

The war is a generally a topic that is best avoided in Germany. Brits love to brag about their win and crack jokes about the 'Jerrys' at every opportunity, but the Germans are still very much schtum on the subject. The thing is though, there is a war that is still present in daily German life. Battles are continually fought and lost – the Germans triumphant, the expats cowering (or rather, sweating) in a corner. I am of course talking about a very specific WW3: Window Wars.

Brits have superstitions about not putting shoes on the table and avoiding the cracks in the street – all harmless activities that don't affect anyone outside of the individual's space. The Germans? They have a genuine phobia of window opening. I know, right now you are sitting there thinking "Seriously? How bad can a window phobia and superstition be?" But really, it's a serious subject. Germans have to be warm. It doesn't matter if is 25 degrees outside, you can still witness 100 denier tights and thick jeans in your midst. More than that though, they insist on the windows being closed...AT ALL TIMES. Germans believe that if you open the window and have beautiful fresh (almost mountain-like) air streaming in through the windows, then you are going to get ill. It doesn't matter if the air temperature is 25 degrees, oh no, you WILL get ill. Oh, and don't forget the obligatory scarf. If James Bond had been German he wouldn't have had any of those crazy gadgets, oh no, Q would have given him a scarf – to ensure he doesn't catch a cold when running after the enemy in blizzard-like weather. In the UK, scarves are generally decorative pieces that only serve a real purpose when it's in the midst of winter, we are outside and absolutely need to keep toasty. The only time I would wear a scarf in the office is if the heating wasn't working, or I wanted to look particularly swish that day. The Germans? Well, you'd be lucky to find them at their desk under the mound of wool wrapped around the top half of their body.

But, back to the windows. The odd thing is, that Germany has more window opening opportunities than most other countries: windows can be opened on the U bahn and even on regional trains because they don't go super fast. Here are my most recent window opening attempts on public transport:

Attempt 1: 8:00am, the doors to the U bahn swing open and a warm wave smelling of mouldy cheese mixed with Leberkäse hits me. Why hasn't anyone opened a window? Madness. So, I sit down and casually open one of the many windows that it is perfectly allowed to open. I sit back, pleased with myself and shut my eyes for a little pre-work nap. My eyelids haven't even closed before: BAM! The window is slammed shut by the previously innocent-looking businessman sitting opposite me. Why on earth didn't he ask if he could close it and at least feign trying to appease my wishes? It's obviously important to remember that when it comes to windows and overhead locker space in aeroplanes, business men always win, no exceptions.

Result of attempt 1: thwarted

Attempt 2: German regional trains are amazing. They are clean, have wide corridors, plenty of space and best of all, they are double-decker – so if you snag a spot on the top-deck you can take in the wonderful views as you speed through the countryside. As I hopped into my seat on yet another overly heated form of public transport (they love to have the heating on full blast at all times of year) I was pleasantly surprised to discover that it was possible to open the window next to me. Joy radiated through my soul. After being open a mere 5 minutes, a middle-aged German man actually walked from the back of the carriage, pushed in front of my seat and slammed the window closed! I was paralysed with shock at the act, and failed to retaliate. Hashtag window fail.

Result of attempt 2: thwarted

Attempt 3: Back on the train again, this time a lovely old-style one where you can pull the big windows half way down and pretend like you are acting in the "Railway Children" (I may or may not have been imagining that I was Bobbie). The carriage was empty so opening windows didn't entail any hit-man-style risks – bliss. Trundling through the mountains was amazing and breathing in the mountain air was magic. We then pause at a station and people enter my carriage, where I was previously sitting alone. In England if you entered a room with someone in and the window was open or the light was on, you wouldn't dare change a thing unless it was a life and death scenario, and even then you would sidle over apologetically and begin the sentence with "I'm awfully sorry" and then proceed to beg for them to close the window if they "wouldn't mind". Germans don't have time for such considerate theatre. Another middle-aged man, my favourite kind, storms up to my part of the carriage and closes the window. Then, after it is closed, asks me if I mind if he closes it (in a way that suggests he couldn't care less what my answer is). I wasn't going to take it lying down anymore. This was my moment to act. To reclaim a British victory. I replied (in Deutsch of course): "Actually I do mind, why do you have to shut the window?” To which he replied "Weil es schimpft!" (translation: "Its blustering/roaring!” note: this is also the same verb for “to offend”) Oh please, and I thought the British were the dramatic ones. Believe me, a tickling breeze of loveliness is probably exactly what you need, moaning middle aged German man.

Result of attempt 3: thwarted

Conclusion: it seems I will forever be destined to exist in stuffy-filled spaces, at a minimum temperature of 25 degrees despite being in feather and down coat, and of course, donning the obligatory thick, woollen scarf. Sweating. Sexy.

Potential solution: work on gluing all windows in Germany into a permanent 'open' position. (note to self: must look into putting this plan into action).

"He's behind you!" – Oh no, wait, no he's not.

That's right, German pantomimes would be very different to English ones (if they even had Pantomimes that is). The Germans are definitely never behind you, they are alway one (or perhaps five) steps ahead of you. The Germans may be efficient, but the Germans don't queue. No ifs or buts – they don't queue, end of. What they are absolute masters of however, is the evasion of the dreaded English-style queuing system (which I long and crave for, I have to admit). Don't let your guard down for even a second; otherwise they will slip straight ahead of you – taking the last butter breze that you had been craving in the office for the last 3 hours (true story). The sneaky Germans can begin their queue-jumping approach in several ways, all beginning with a seemingly innocent tap on the shoulder followed by:

"Can I...?"

"I don't want to buy anything, I just have a quick question."

"I was here earlier, I just nipped to the toilet"

I have now learned the responses to all of these potentially duping techniques: GET.TO.THE.BACK.OF.THE.QUEUE

I'm ashamed to say I fell for all of these at first though, being the nice, trusting English person that I am who has faith in those around me not trying to outwit me to the best baked-goods. A fifty year old little...well..you know what...decided to cross me when I was hungry and queuing to buy cream cakes (always a bad idea). I had already waited over 15 minutes in the non-existent queue (it involves hovering around the counter and hoping you catch the eye of the baker first!) and was getting impatient. She leans across me (she knew what she was doing the devious woman – a blatant body block if ever I saw one) and says, "I just have a quick question!". Turns out, unsurprisingly, that the quick question was about which cake she wanted to buy, which she then spends 15 minutes choosing while I was standing behind, money in hand. The most shocking part is that nobody around me was outraged by this. In England there would have definitely been some tutting, or curt comments. Or, better yet, the baker would have said, "I think this other lady was here first". Not in Germany. It's Darwinian – you snooze you lose – and in this case I lost the strawberry custard tart that I had greedily had my eye on for a full quarter of an hour. 

What is amusing though, is when a German tries a similar technique when surrounded by a group of British people, like at the airport. I was waiting to board when a German guy comes over and self-righteously pushes in front of me. I was not amused. Before I had chance to breathe and open my mouth though, the British cavalry were already there: "Oi mate, the back of the queue is behind you!". To which the German replies *in a very German, comedy-style British accent*: "I vos on thee toiLET, I vos ere before." Naturally though, the Brit didn't back down: "Well I didn't see you mate and it sounds like a classic queue-jumper thing to say. I'm afraid if you go for a p*** , you lose your place." Safe to say, this brazen British attitude actually worked. I smiled inwardly – God Save the Queen and her queue-obsessed citizens.

German queue behaviour is pretty strange too. I feel like as British person it is innate to queue in a straight line, one behind the other and, naturally, make sure you don't skip ahead of someone who was there 2 hours before you. The Germans? They do the drip effect. This can be best seen at airports (regardless of whether you are flying EasyJet or Lufthansa). As soon as that boarding announcement echoes over the airwaves, the Germans jump up from their seats and swarm towards the desk, in drip-like fashion.

One of the most frustrating habits though, involves the U Bahn. I can be standing waiting for the U Bahn to arrive for 10 minutes, with my prime spot where I know the doors will open (yes...I'm sad...I actually now know this...) and then, low and behold, a German comes and stands directly in front of me. DIRECTLY! It doesn't matter that the rest of the platform is entirely free, oh no, they just HAVE to stand there. Maybe it's the competitive side coming out again; in the same way it surfaces in sports shops. Perhaps there is something in that though, I definitely feel like it's always girls that do it – usually really pretty ones too. They are usually tall, blonde, tanned and flick their hair in my face as they do so. Lovely. I think this is definitely an underlying queue right too – your points on the hotness scale. These pretty girls seem to feel like it is their birthright to be first in the queue, no matter what the queue is for. A generalisation? Perhaps. Then again, if you had had blonde locks thrown into your face as much as I have, then you would understand where I am coming from.

Queuing at the supermarket checkout is also another stumbling block to master. The conveyor belts are a lot shorter in our supermarkets here – meaning a lot less time to load your things on and off, and you can be sure you have a pushy German huffing and puffing behind you. Yesterday I even had a woman stepping on my shoes in a stress to put her cat food tins on the conveyor – calm down love! Parents with no control over their children are also mildly enraging, even more so when they ask you for a favour. The other day I was in the supermarket queue and a woman asked me to get some stickers and give them to her, as my shopping would be expensive enough to get them free. Sure, why not help a lovely mother? She wasn't that lovely though. She let her irritating kids pull, push and shove around me (and actually me too), and then patronisingly interrupted my conversation with the cashier to tell me that she didn't want THOSE stickers, she wanted the OTHER stickers, followed by a massive sigh of frustration and a look which said *stupid British woman*. Meanwhile her children were mishandling my oranges – little buggers. I felt like telling her to stick her stickers where the sun didn't shine, but instead...I kept my cool.

Speaking of children, I had a very irritating toilet-queuing situation recently (don’t get me started on there only being 2 toilets for a place filled with hundreds of women). Everyone was dying for the bathroom, that much was obvious, (blame it on beer), and then a woman waltzes in with her son and pushes to the front. Now, don't get me wrong, I'm not a child-hater...quite the opposite in fact. However, if he had been under five it would have been fine...under 6...acceptable. But seven or eight?! That's just wrong to me on too many levels. What's going to happen to him if she sends him to the boy’s bathroom? He's not going to get lost in the lavatory bowl. Even if he did, at least he would learn something. I'm almost 100% sure that he was a decoy because she was dying to go, and knew that would help her get to the front. Never underestimate the power of a desperate, queue-jumping German Frau.

Oktoberfest queuing is another thing entirely. Luckily the bouncers are well trained for the regular lines though, such as: "My friend is in there and has a table". Luckily for me too, they weren't trained in regard to boobs, exceedingly good dirndl bras and bunches of single women – I can unashamedly say that I got into tents every time this year with little trouble (am I turning into a queue-jumping German?!).

It's not all rudeness and pushing and shoving through. Oh no. The German's can be extremely polite – just in the most awkward of places: the sauna, and the changing rooms. You can be standing starkers in the changing room and the Germans will always greet the room with great gumption when they enter and leave it and if they think you may not have heard their hearty hello, they will probably come closer and say it again (regardless of your naked state), so make sure to respond straight away to avoid having a close-up and personal version. In the sauna too, it's the same: "Grüß Gott" (Greet God. Welcome to the catholic state of Bavaria – this is how we say hello here) is said to the whole room upon entering. For the first time in their day too, the Germans actually shift over and look almost eager for you to sit beside them. Hmmm.

On second thoughts, maybe I'm not so unhappy with the impolite attitude. Actually, I would definitely welcome it in the wellness area if it means no more awkward sauna situations– go ahead Germans, spread meanness across the spa world, you have my blessing! 

"I see naked people". "How often do you see them?" *cue tortured-looking-Sixth-Sense-style expression* "All the time!"

If you have a fear of genitals then Germany isn't the place for you. They pop out of nowhere when you are least suspecting it. Here, there, everywhere. You can be bending down to pick up a pen you dropped, turn around and then suddenly meat and two veg are practically grazing your right cheek (the cheek belonging to your face, that is). You really could do a twisted naked version of Sixth Sense quite easily in Germany's nudist-filled environs.

Seriously though, Germany is definitely the land of the 'free' in the clothes wearing sense. Whenever and wherever there is an opportunity to strip off and strut their naked stuff, the Germans will take it. When I first arrived in Munich I was an innocent, fairly prude British soul. Naked? In public? Me? I was afraid of even my doctor seeing anything from the neck down, let alone Joe down the road in a public place. The main place where you can't avoid naked bodies is the sauna. Yes, the sauna. I know British people will be reading this thinking "huh?” Here's the huge difference between Germany and England though (which pretty much acts as an indicator to their attitude to nakedness in general), in English saunas and spas there are huge signs that read: "Swimwear must be worn in the sauna and spa area at ALL times". Here's the German: "Swimwear must NEVER be worn in the sauna at ANY time. Those who do will be politely asked to leave". Leave?! LEAVE?! Yes...I was as shocked as you were in the beginning. It only gets worse though. Once I was at a large water park / spa and then there was an announcement over the tannoy: "Please be advised that it is now 6pm and the whole of the area is now "Textilfrei" Those who do not wish to participate must now leave". Textile-free? I didn't have much time to process the information before all of the German's were stripping off and swimming in the pool around me – the stuff of nightmares. Never until that point have I been more concerned about accidentally kicking someone with my foot whilst swimming...who knows what my toes may touch...?!

Over time I gradually started to adopt the German approach and go starkers in the sauna (I know, too much information, right?). Still, at least you have a towel to wrap around you. It's all about the technique too though...the technique I like to think of as ASS: Avoidance. Shielding. Sweating. Here's how it works:

1. Avoidance. I try to make sure I am in the sauna on my own if possible, carefully timing it so that I always start my session when someone has just left (this also avoids the awkwardness of being in sync with another sauna-goer...which essentially means that you sit naked together, shower next to each other, sleep next to each other, and then do the whole thing all over again two more times *squirm*). If this isn't possible, I at least try to be first in the sauna, lie down, in the darkest corner and close my eyes – that way, I will never know who was in there with me and will never have the difficult moment of seeing them in clothes and not really knowing quite what to say.

2. Shielding. You definitely have to have technique as a woman. Guys have it easy – they just whack the towel around their wil.... well...you know. Women have so much extra to shield! It's taken me several times over the years to perfect, but now I've got it down to a fine art so that any potential perverts don't really get much of a show.

3. Sweating. The more you sweat and the hotter you look – the less likely you are to be the centre of male attention. So work those sweat beads ladies!

All this though, is unfortunately not enough to deter the Germans. They LOVE to talk whilst in the sauna, even to complete embarrassed strangers like me. One opening line was: "you seem sporty, were you in the gym with me earlier?" (a bit stalker-ish...), another was from an old, fat, Bavarian man: "Was that you swimming earlier? You are really fast!" (My thoughts: yes...I am fast...because I'm not seventy...in fact I'm young enough to be your granddaughter and you are talking at me and my fully exposed boobs right now - STOP IT!).

As well as the saunas though, there are also whole naked Sauna Worlds! Yes...worlds! There are over 40 saunas of different kinds...including ones with planetariums inside or thrones and beer on tap...it really is a whole new world of naked fun. The thing I can't get over though is swimming naked in a pool with other people (yes I did it...got to try everything once right?). It's like taking a bath with everyone who you are on the U Bahn with – what a disgusting and shudder-worthy thought.

Unfortunately the nakedness isn't confined to the spas though. Oh no. In Germany "Where's Willy?" rather than "Where's Wally?" is probably their favourite book. You could definitely make a good game out of it in Munich's English Gardens in the summer. Nakedness reigns in certain sections, so you need to be careful where you lay down your mat to sunbathe! The riverbanks are swarming with the nudists too (although that term probably doesn't apply in Germany, as everyone is a little bit of a nudist inside). There is one character that I call "Jesus", who has long hair...a long beard...wears white kaftans and strips off to bathe in the crystal clear running waters of the Isar (no doubt he's a crazy Catholic thinking he can cleanse his sins!)

Personally I just think the Germans are all extreme exhibitionists. The female changing rooms at the gym in Germany are a good example of that. I'm very British when it comes to the changing rooms: I choose a locker in the corner and get changed facing it, as quickly as possible. The Deutsch women? No way, this is the chance for them to strut their sexy stuff! They stroll around, even putting their socks on before their kickers – weird. What makes me laugh the most though is when they actually do their moisturising regime for all to see. Slapping on the cream extra loudly to make heads turn, then putting one leg up dramatically on the bench while they rub it in. (I'm sure for any men reading this...this is nearly their "Fifty Shades of Grey" erotic novel moment and I'm just reinforcing the stereotype in their minds that all women do when they are alone together is run around semi naked. Maybe it’s not a stereotype after all and the men are totally on-point...) It all boils down to competition though, like everything with the Germans. They just want to show off the body they spent 2 hours perfecting that evening, that's all. I can't help thinking: "Whatever love, you slap on that cream onto your toned abs, I really don't care and there's no guys to faun all over you in the female locker room so I don't get your game plan – I'm going home to eat cake and watch trash TV...and I'm going to enjoy every second of it!"

Strange things have started happening to me though. I'm always adding a sauna session onto my gym stint. I look at friends in shock when they say they wear swimwear into the sauna in England: "It ruins your swimwear! Don't you get hot? It’s so unhygienic!". In fact...am I starting to become accustomed to stripping off without a care in the world? Am I *gulp*, becoming a naked-loving German?

I think I'm a few naked steps away from nudist – but that's not to say that being naked in a small sauna doesn't have its benefits, particularly when the German football team walks in like they did into mine. And I'll leave you with that little nugget to ponder on.

I just wanna make you sweat

I'm sure that when Snoop Dog sang (rapped?) these immortal words, he wasn't aiming them towards the Germans. Perhaps the glowing skin of the LA Americans needs to be told to sweat a little more so that people actually believe that they are a) human and b) are actually working out. The Germans definitely don't need Snoop Dog to persuade them – perspiration seems to be a way of life for so many of the population in the Fatherland.

An insulting generalisation? Maybe. However, the amount of body odour I have experienced this week has been overwhelming. On the U Bahn, in the shops, and...of course...in the gym.

In England we do take towels to the gym, but generally I find that you take one that is only slightly larger than flannel size in order to discreetly mop away the little beads of sweat on your forehead, and also to put in between your hands and the machine. In my mind, it's really all that's necessary really, provided that you use the antibacterial spray properly. The Germans definitely don't think so. The majority of fitness fanatics in the 'fitness studio' give me and my towel disapproving looks and I'm sure I've already got a reputation as "dirty girl" – and not in the "oh she's so hot and dirty" capacity either.

 In Germany I have noticed that the Germans bring four massive towels to the gym. I find that a fairly astounding amount of drying material to bring to one place. I find it particularly shocking because I never have that many towels all clean at one moment in time – how do they do it? Seriously though, I probably had my mouth open in surprise when I, for the first time, saw so many people with gym bags the size of houses because of their overflowing towels inside. Now I know why though: they need at least four in order to effectively mop up the buckets of sweat that they perspire during the thirty minutes that they are on the treadmill. Actually, if we want to be accurate here, it is one towel for the 'fitness studio', one for the swimming pool, and two for the sauna session – one to pop their sweaty behind onto and the other to rub themselves down during said sauna session. It really is a technical towel technique that must take years and German heritage to master – I assume this anyway, as I am lucky if I even remember mine!

Towels aside, body odour is definitely an issue everywhere. Do they not know about the miracle power of deodorant? If so many people smelled that bad in Britain there would be a riot. Ok, so maybe not a riot, but at least someone would say something. Like, for example, "Hey best friend / girlfriend / boyfriend, I love you with all my heart, but you smell like rotting cheese and I don't think I can take it anymore. Here's some Rexona (Sure) – use it, and enjoy". Maybe this non-deodorant-wearing phenomenon is an extension of the Bio-buying obsession (Germans LOVE organic food to the point where it's a status symbol. Don't get me wrong, I love organic food too, but in Germany buying 'Bio' is the equivalent of being robbed in daylight). "How on earth is buying organic in any way linked to deodorant?” I hear you cry. Well, it's probably because the Germans are afraid of the chemicals contained inside. I don't blame them for their fears, but if they are willing to drink copious amounts of Diet Coke and Spezi  (Coke and Fanta mixed together...weird...and disgusting!) that is filled with aspartame, then why can't they just bite the bullet and spray under their arms too? What's more, this isn't even really excuse – have they not seen Garnier's chemical free, au naturel range? If not, then I will gladly direct them to it.

The worst part is that they don't even seem to notice. When getting on he U bahn the other morning, the doors opened and I was hit with a wall of heat and odour (a mixture of body stench and the pungent smell of a 2 day old meatloaf (Leberkäse) sandwich that someone was consuming at 8am...yum). Naturally, I opened the window when I went inside. The businessman opposite me watched me do it, giving me an evil stare as I did so. He then sneakily waited for me to put my earphones in and close my eyes for my morning commuting nap and then he slammed it shut again. Crafty little bugger.

Back in the environs of the gym, there is a whole new trend kicking off. Not washing your gym clothes in between sessions. Now, this is going beyond the Bio-buying principal, this is a hygiene basic. I don't need to describe the smell, I'm sure you can guess. I think the gym team noticed it too, as now there are signs that say that you have to wear clean clothes and shoes when training. Signs! Now do you understand the extent of the problem? Here's the added horror too – you aren't allowed to open the windows in the gym except for five minutes every hour and that is usually only done by a trained window-opening gym professional. In fact, even when you or the gym instructor does do that, the Germans look at you like you are crazy, weird, or like they want to come over and put the weight they are holding in your face. Yes, the air issue is that serious. So serious in fact, that the instructions regarding only being allowed to open the window once every hour is written on another lovely little sign next to the window. This sign also says that these rules are now set in place to create fairness after the "disputes" and "situation which ensued last year".

I can only assume that the situation was this: an expat was close to dying of body odour poisoning in the gym and went to open a window. The Germans, in fear of catching a cold from the fresh air (n.b. see earlier blog for innate German fear of being cold and fresh air making you catch a cold) ran to shut it and then in their haste, accidentally pushed the expat out of the window – resulting in a messy manslaughter case (which was the aforementioned "situation").

Or something like that anyway.

I fear I am going to be the next "situation" when I just can't take it anymore and have to wrench open the window. Fingers crossed they have implemented a safety measure and there is a crash mat waiting for me at the bottom. If not, farewell friends.

German Efficiency

We spend so much time these days trying to crush stereotypes because they are apparently untrue and prejudiced. Some are and I'm all for the crushing of those, others, however, should just be accepted...and maybe even applauded. Yes, I'm talking about the old stereotype about Germans being super efficient. It's definitely true (as is the staple joke about towels...towels always cover the best loungers in the spas to "reserve" them for the German ghosts that are never seen lying on them until 10 minutes before closing).

I loved living in France, but there was one big reason as to why I could never live there permanently. The word "efficient" might as well not exist in French vocabulary. Shop and supermarket opening times are ridiculous enough as it is (8 until 11, 3 until 5, 8 until 9...which is code for how many cigarette breaks they need throughout the day and how long they need for the traditional leisurely French lunch), then add to that the fact that you can cycle your little socks off to get there in time after work to buy the all important ingredients for your Boeuf Bourguignon only to discover that its closed...again...probably because the owner , Jean, got restless and decided to go and have a Café au Lait with his mate Pierre and discuss crucial political points.

Enough of the French though, that's a whole other blog opportunity! Good old efficient Germans. As soon as I stepped foot on the soil of the Fatherland I felt that I had found my long lost home, I could breathe easy for the first time - my OCD of planning and efficiency would finally be satisfied and understood: trains would run on time, shops would be open until the second hand clicks onto the 8pm closing time and questions would be answered with precision and perfect solutions.

Efficiency runs through the veins of the Germans, even more so than in mine. God forbid that the U-bahn is half a second late. In fact, you don't even need to look at the clock to know that it is late, the frustrated rustle of German bodies on the platform as they pull out their iPhones to check the time and then glance in the direction of where the train should be coming from, is enough of a giveaway. I'm pretty sure that after it arrives they are then using their WiFi to look up the MVV transport network complaint form, ready to download and fill out at the office. 

This is in stark contrast to the British, they would not doubt be eagerly, loudly and shameless speaking into their phone: "Hey Barry, yeah, train's late, fingers crossed it won't bloody come at all and we can sod off and go and have a pint mate!"

There is a marked difference that sets German efficiency apart though and that is: the art of anticipation. The Germans invented this little beauty, no doubt. "What the heck the art of anticipation when it's at home?!", I hear you cry. Well, essentially it means that they anticipate situations BEFORE they even happen - resulting in absolute maximum efficiency. It's like the Germans were all born with an inner eye that allows them to accurately predict the future. Their inner eye must have been having an off day when the British won the war...then again their Lord Voldemort-style leader was Austrian...and that's a whole different kettle of German-speaking fish. If you call the German equivalent of 999 (It's 112...just in case you are ever in need.... and if you are...remember it was me and my blog that saved you from certain death in Deutschland!), then no matter the problem, they will just sent everything: fire engine, ambulance and police. Not only will they do that, they will probably also send three of each, just to be on the safe side. How considerate of them.  If I had someone chasing me down the street trying to kidnap me, I would want it to happen in Germany - the emergency services would probably have already predicted our route and set up a roadblock in advance to intercept us. Once I even saw 10 fire engines go past my suburban road, none with sirens on. I can only assume that they were teaching colleagues new, faster routes to get to fires so they didn't get lost (as this was a new building estate) - can you get any more efficient than that?!

Doctors are also no exception when it comes to the efficiency rule. Whatever the problem, even if your GP can't see anything wrong, they will refer you to a specialist to be on the safe side and to make you feel at ease. "Oh that's all well and good, but you will probably have to wait 6 months to see the specialist!", I hear you grumble. Well...no. I once had pain in my ear but my GP couldn't see anything inside. Now, if I were in England I would have been ushered out at this point as an overly dramatic hypochondriac, inventing ear issues (that is, of course, if I managed to get past the mardy, unhelpful receptionist batallion at the front desk and get an appointment in the first place). This is Germany though. She immediately called her specialist friend around the corner and I was seen by them 15 minutes later. By "seen" I mean I went to a futuristic, state-of-the-art looking surgery, and they used ultrasound on my face and ears to see what normal apparatus can't - low and behold I had perforated the eardrum caused by my flight over from the UK. See? Efficiency wins again! If I were in England I would still be suffering...which the doctor would probably call "character building". Hmm.

With Oktoberfest in full swing right now (or "Wiesn' if you want to be a true local), the German efficiency OCD is at it's best. They have staff at all major U Bahn stations to help you onto public transport and make sure you don't drunkenly disappear down the crack between the train and the platform. In England they would probably just watch and laugh at your stupidity - right? After all, it's a new drunken tale to tell! Not only that though, the U-bahns are actually going a lot slower than usual, just in case a drunken Oktoberfest reveller decided to fall in front of them. They really have thought of everything.

So it seems that this German stereotype is one that really is special, and deserves applause. As I returned home in the early hours on Friday from the Wiesn' I was thinking exactly this - everything had worked like clockwork. 

Then my night bus didn't turn up for some reason, meaning my 4am antics turned into 5am by the time I got home - tired, cold and slightly traumatised after avoiding several kidnap attempts ( With one guy approaching me and asking me how I am in a dark street: Him in a creepy voice: "Don't you trust me?", Me: "hmm...let me think...NO!"Another directly asking me and another girl at the stop to spend the night with him in a hotel and fulfil his dreams...I think you can already anticipate my response despite perhaps not having the magical German inner eye). Finding another bus stop was equally a struggle, I'm so used to German sign efficiency that when there isn't one there directing me where I need to go, then I am lost. I wasn't the only one either - I accumulated a number of other lost German women on my way.

I don't have an iPhone, but if I did I'm sure I would have been looking up the MVV complaint form on Friday evening (and perhaps also "SOS harassment"). I was also cursing the fact that I hadn't taken a jumper with me because I was so chilled to the bone in the night air and worrying that I would get ill the next day because of it. Maybe I'm already German after all?