As a German in England, I just can't win. On the one side, there are my German friends, who make fun of England at every opportunity, treat me like I was born on this island or at least as though I had at some point decided that Germany sucks and that I want to relocate, because England is so much better. Nothing could be further from the truth: I've been living here for nearly three years now, which most certainly doesn't make me a proper Brit. And I don't hate Germany - why would I? But as a self-employed writer, I simply find life a lot easier around here. You see, in Germany I am forced to pay obscene amounts of money for my health insurance. The state doesn't care whether or not I have that kind of money or whether I actually need health insurance. Everybody has to pay. It's the law. And the support you receive over there for starting your own business is practically non-existent: As an absolute newcomer to my trade, I didn't make a lot of money and therefore didn't have to pay any income tax. That's as good as it gets.
Then there's England. No monthly insurance fees. Yay! And since I'm not a world-famous, hugely successful follower of my profession (yet), not only does my low monthly income free me from taxes - they actually pay me! Some smart people have calculated that, whatever amount of money I make with my job, can't possibly be enough to pay all my bills, so they're sending me 84 Pounds. Every. Single. Week. I only just got here, I have never done anything for the state that supports me, I'm a complete stranger, but they're giving me their money. Sweeeeeeet~!
Then there is my family. Several months before I left the country, I had taken the time to email each and everyone of them, explaining exactly how, when and why I would relocate to England. Nobody wrote back, nobody called and most of all, nobody asked whether I needed any help or came by to actually say goodbye. Okay, my old man showed up for ten minutes and picked up my poor cat, who was doomed to go to the vet, who would "find her a new owner". I'm not sure this is actually true, but I sincerely hope so. Turned out absolutely *no one* in my family would have agreed to look after her during the six months grace period before she would have got her pet passport to join us in England. Ironically, I have several family members, who love cats and actually keep some of their own. I would have paid for the food and everything, but hey, taking care of my feline friend would have meant doing me a favour, so no can do.
Of course, having nobody to help me also meant having no place to stay after all of our stuff had been picked up for its journey to the UK by the transport company. That was one fun night on the cold, hard floor of my empty apartment!
Yes, they're that kind of family. My brother got married last week. Wanna know how I found out? Facebook. Aunts, uncles, cousins, everybody was invited, everybody knew. Nobody fucking told me. Well... to cut a long story short, let's just say nobody misses me, which made leaving my home country that much easier.
The really funny bit is how, even though I took the time to explain exactly why I was moving, the official story about my whereabouts is a lot more colourful than reality. I received a letter from a lawyer about six months after I had gone, telling me that, according to my mother, I had practically disappeared without saying a word, apparently wanting to leave everybody behind and now I'm sponging off of my rich girlfriend. Of course nobody had any idea where the hell that was coming from when I contacted them about it.
So let's just say I'm more or less dead to my family. And to my friends, I'm officially a Brit. I'm pretty sure they picture me with a monocle and a top hat. That is kinda cool, actually. And maybe a bit weird, considering I'm mostly using American expressions in my blog and all that, but what the hey.
But while people back in Germany consider me a Brit, people over here treat me like a German. When it comes to lame jokes and clichés, I get the best of both worlds! Your food sucks! Your teeth are ugly! Your beer is warm and stale! Don't mention the war! Who won the bloody war, anyway? What's 'Sieg Heil!' mean, exactly? Fun times.
I like it. No really, I do. If nothing else, it makes me stand out a little and the jokes are all in good spirits, silly as they may be.
The strange thing is how, even after three years, the whole thing is taking so long to settle in. I had to move well over a dozen times in my life and getting used to a new house, new school, new surroundings never took very long. But now that I'm in England, well... every day I wake up and look at my new home, take a look out the window, every time Claire and I go to town, every time I discover some strange English tv show, it all feels new, strange, different - like I'm on vacation.
It's difficult to explain. You'd think that, after seeing the same apartm... sorry, flat for several years, the same neighbourhood, same landscape, same tv channels over and over again, I'd develop a certain sense of routine. But it doesn't stop feeling new and different. Maybe it isn't the new surroundings as much as the whole new lifestyle. A little while back I was doing my fucking tax return! You know, grown up stuff. When I was a kid, I'd observe my parents when they were doing or at least talking about these things and I was in awe, thinking I could never do anything like that at some point. I wonder if they felt as weird as I do when I'm filling out those forms.
We're still burping, scratching and grunting like gorillas. But in between such animalistic endeavors, we're going to the bank, we're making doctor's appointments, talking about babies, wedding celebrations and credit card bills. A few years back the only thing I worried about after work was mixing up the juice bottle and the piss bottle. Sure, I did have a proper office job and everything, but with no partner and not a care in the world, I blew out all my money on robo-raptors, flying airplanes and all the cool stuff I couldn't have when I was a kid.
I still don't really feel like an adult. Hell, I get paid to bitch about stuff and they allow me to say things like ass and vagina! Whee! You should have seen the bank manager when I told him with a straight face that it's my job to play video games! I'm planning to spend the rest of my life with a girl, who considers secretly urinating in my apple juice a practical joke.
But I do have responsibilities now. Laundry, taxes, insurance, toilet seats, contraception, all kinds of stuff I never really cared about. Add that to a whole new country, where life-insurance is sold by talking phones and meerkats and it's probably not a huge surprise it's taking so long to settle in.
Ah well. I'm sure it'll all settle in at some point. In the meanwhile, every single day feels nice, new and exciting. That's not so bad now, is it? :D
-Cat
Keine Kommentare:
Kommentar veröffentlichen