The Lessons I Have Learned

Three years I've spent in this country, as a guest, a foreigner, an "Ami." There are so many ways I could memorialize these almost 1100 days, so many lists I could make, so many emotions I could convey. But I'm choosing to think that what is most important from those three years - what deserves mention here - are the things that have changed me fundamentally, from the inside. The things that have shaped me and molded me. The voices that have a say in every new decision. The maturity I hope I've gained, the wisdom I hope I've soaked up. The Lessons I've Learned:

I can be my own worst enemy. So many times here I have watched my insecurities get the better of me. "I know I can't say it perfectly, so I won't say anything"... and the opportunity passes. "Oh, they don't want to hear my opinion, I'm just an outsider"... and I lose the chance to make a friend. "I can't speak this language, therefore I must be stupid and slow"... and my picture of myself changes. The corollary to this Lesson is: Stop it, you dork! Stop sabotaging yourself! Accept the reality checks from concerned friends. Snap out of it.

Failing is not the end of the world. Until I got here, I had never really fallen flat on my face and out-and-out failed to do something. There were (and are) plenty of things at which I utterly suck, but through shrewd choices and lithe tip-toeing I had managed to avoid doing them on stage or for a grade or in front of my secret crush. My grades were perfect, my references unblemished. And then I came here, and couldn't form a proper sentence, couldn't navigate the ubiquitous bureaucracy, couldn't buy stamps or open a bank account or get a visa or register for classes. I tried, I was shot down. I went back- shot down again. I can't even count the number of times I broke down and bawled in offices, on the subway, in elevators, standing in line. But eventually my skin grew tougher, my street smarts sharper, and my self-preservation instinct finally won the battle with my bruised ego. Pick yourself up and dust yourself off, Jess. Don't bother with humiliation; it drains. Accept the failure, chalk it up to experience, and do it better next time.

Nobody expects as much perfection of me as I do. While I struggled to make grammatically accurate sentences and berated myself for every false ending or hesitation, my friends were busy accepting me, encouraging me, and loving me. While I complained of feeling like a 25% person, or having the vocabulary of a 3-year old baboon, my friends managed to look beyond the mispronunciation and see into my 100% soul.

My way is not the only way. Nor is it the best way. It might even suck. I don't think I was intolerably arrogant at the beginning or anything, but man, is living abroad humbling. Over and over and over again, "my way" has proven to be limited, inefficient, expensive and completely out of context. Often what I thought of as "my way" was actually the US-American way, impregnated with values that don't jive with the German system, reeking of ethnocentrism and cobbled with cultural blinders. I had to peel them off, layer by layer, until "my way" became a joke, merely an icon of my cultural baggage. Truly, there are so many ways.

Um... I've learned a lot more, but that's enough for today, I think. To be continued... :-)