Culture

The term "culture" is a modern one. It derives from the roman "cultura animi" which translates to "cultivation of the soul". The term originally was used to describe education, and not whole bodies of people.

One of my au pair neighbors was recently talking about her experience in Germany, she arrived three months before I did. She stated that she was loving it here, and loved "learning a new culture." Although I understood her statement, it struck me as odd. This neighbor is European, and her hometown has more similarities with Marl than mine does. However, with each day that passes, I find less differences between the German culture and my own, small town American one.

This became apparent on Friday night when I was invited to a rock concert for a local musician who had won Germany Idol a few years back. His type of music is similar to that of Creed, but I was excited to go and get out of the house.

The music was very good, including the opening act that was a reggae German singer, who I just loved. The venue was an old, small warehouse with a stage at one end and a bar at another. Right outside the door there was a Curry Wurst and Pommes Frites stand. The air inside was foggy from lighting effects, and the floor sticky with spilled beer. There were few tables and chairs, and so we stood for the entire three hours. The musician was a small town boy at heart, and every year on December 6th (St. Nikolaus day in Germany), he returned home and held a concert, choosing a local musician to open for him. The crowd was filled with his old friends from school, adults who had seen him grow, and teenagers who idolized his achievement of "making it big".

It was a rock concert. Simple as that. Even though the lyrics were in German, and I could barely understand anything with the heavy bass, the music was fun, people were dancing, there was beer, and for a split second I thought I saw an old acquaintance from Whitworth. My mind quickly exclaimed as I took a double take, "No, can't be. Not here in this small German city." But a part of me thought, why not? I could see this particular acquaintance liking this music and coming for a beer and Friday night fun.

With the pounding of music in my ears, and my eyes blinking from the bright lights on the stage, I realized that where I was, was really no different than where I could be this Friday night in America. Other than the obvious language difference, and the amazing beer, nothing was different.

And yet, I often get asked, "How do you like the German culture?" A culture I tend to define by its overeating of bread and paving everything with stone and brick. The language is different, but if you listen you hear the same roots English has. The train schedules are hideous, but I have never lived in New York, London, or Rome.

And some may say its this modern era, everything has been westernized, changed to reflect the giant that is the United States. Blue jeans,  coca cola, Herbal Essences, all these are American imports. In this modern era, is there still true culture?

And I wonder, was there ever? Or was it humans living within their means, using what was available, but in essence not living any differently than their counterparts across the world. Love, hate, grief, comfort, those are all the same. No German questions my love of sleep, of cheese, or of fresh air.

I begin to believe that this is not a different culture I am living in, nor a different life. It is simply a house, across the street from a church, with a family who loves their young son, and planning to build a jungle gym in the backyard for him. They bought stones from the local hardware store to pave the walkway. They trim the shrubs, move the welcome mat when it gets soaked with rain, and hang Christmas lights. They sing songs to the child, closely video tape when he begins to walk, and let him play with the pots and pans.

Eliano's childhood is not much different than my own. He will grow to speak a different language. But his culture, with the cobblestoned streets and increased intake of bread, is that what defines him as different than me. Or is he more similar than an outsider would realize. We are all born with the same emotions, all babble in baby talk, all learn to walk with the same shaky steps. And other than a slight change in material values and appearances, I have yet to see a difference.

For I believe the modern term "culture" is overused. Perhaps it is just the cultivation of a soul, the education of one, about one's world.