What it feels like to be an immigrant

So being in Germany these past couple of days has given me some sympathy for immigrants, as I now know what it feels like to be one. I don’t think I will feel as out of place in France as I do here since (hopefully) I’ll be able to understand most of what they’re saying. But while walking down the streets, looking at the signs and trying to listen in on conversations, I have no idea what is going on. Yesterday, I spent the afternoon exploring the grounds of Nymphenburg Palace, which was the main summer residence for the rulers of Bavaria, and found myself drifting between the American and European mindsets. The grounds of the palace are massive – almost 500 acres – and a lot of it is wooded. Now I was there from 5-7.30 PM, and while in the woods it was pretty dark. If I was at a similar park in Philadelphia or New York, I would have been worried that at any moment someone would jump out of the trees and shank/mug/murder me. Here, however, I’ve never felt safer. That’s a big statement, considering that sometimes at home when I’m taking the trash out and it’s dark I still sprint from the pole barn to the garage. Here, I get the impression that everyone is much less guarded.

I was thankful for Rachel and Dario picking me up at the train station on Saturday; even with directions I’m sure I would have gotten lost. On the first night here we went out to eat typical Bavarian food at a restaurant near Dario’s apartment. I noticed that they’re not big fans of vegetables, unless it’s potatoes, onions, or cabbage. Even on the vegetarian menu they had meat: pasta in some kind of sauce with turkey.

On Sunday afternoon we headed to the Wiesn to check out Oktoberfest: the “Largest Volksfest in the World.” I don’t really know how to describe it other than a giant carnival filled with people wearing lederhosen and dirndl. So, to sum up what I can’t explain, here are some pictures:

Entrance to the Wiesn.

PDA.

Because we got there in the afternoon it was impossible to get into one of the beer tents, but I’m glad that I at least got to see what it’s all about.

Today I had planned to go visit the first concentration camp – Dachau – which is only a half hour away, except when I got there I saw that it is closed on Monday. So, the only thing I saw was the main gate to the camp that promised prisoners Arbeit macht frei or work will make you free.