Germans, the toilet and I

Germans and personal space... These two concepts don’t seem to match, but it took me a long time to find that out. As a young, naive Belgian, my friends and teachers informed me about the distanced mentality of the people in the most powerful country of Europe. Some prejudices were born. “They are ice cold, hard as steel”, I thought. And in some way, I always believed I was right. During the first weeks of my stay in Gelsenkirchen, it was very difficult to integrate, because I could tell shop keepers really didn’t like the fact that I wasn’t able to speak their language properly. What did they expect? I came to Germany to become a rhetorical genius, not to steal their jobs… Even though they have a high salary, so maybe one day I’ll become an immigrant.

My first impressions weren’t that good, thus I decided to attend a party. It’s easier to make friends in a bar than talking to people in a grocery store. Sebastian, my flatmate, asked me if I wanted to go to a place called ‘Fuck’. I agreed, since it sounded really kinky. When we arrived there, a couple of beers were passed at the counter, some beautiful drunk women were coming in to seduce the jerks and a man was puking in the corner. It was wonderful. Just what I expected out of a bar with such a splendid name.

We had a great time, although the Germans were acting like we were invisible. After drinking a couple of glasses that were filled with the holy liquid, my bladder was ready to burst. Actually ‘explode’ is a better description. I ran to the toilet, pushed away some drunk guys and opened my zipper in advance. After a few seconds, I saw my final destination: the urinals. There were two of them, so that gave me the opportunity to choose. I’d never felt so happy in my entire life. Normally I’m not that picky, but the right one immediately jumped in the eye. It was love at first sight.

During that unforgettable moment of letting everything go, a sweaty guy with long hair and glasses came in. He immediately went to the left urinal, took a deep breath and almost had an orgasm because of the pleasant relief. After two minutes of shared happiness –our bladders were still half full- he turned his face to mine. In Belgium, that’s the most inappropriate thing you can do, but he didn’t feel uncomfortable at all. I didn’t look back. After five more seconds I noticed that he moved the left part of his body towards the wall and that he was staring at my jewels. He smiled.  I felt raped.

But then the unthinkable happened: He started talking to me. It was a small talk about the lovely weather of the previous day, the sweet taste of Belgian chocolates and the extreme relief of the moment. I hoped that the endless stream of purified beer leaking in the men’s sink would come to an end soon, because I didn’t feel the need to socialize with this rather eccentric creature. After that satisfying moment, he started following me. It was clear he’d never met someone from abroad. We left, he waved.

I wasn’t sure if this was their way of communicating, but when we went to Trujillo some days later, I knew for sure that the water closet was the place to connect with others. Three urinals, a machine filled with toys you can only find in bedrooms and the smell of rotten fish. Not a very attractive picture, but you can imagine the atmosphere. I decided to pee in the left chamber pot. A few seconds later a drunk student appeared next to me… Not on the right, but next to me… He didn’t give me personal space. His arm was caressing mine. Not very comfortable when you’re holding something you can’t let go. He turned to me, looked down, smiled, opened his mouth and said proudly: “Look, without hands! it’s Free Willy!” He must have noticed that I wasn’t really interested in his stories, so he wished me a good night and shook my clean hand with his hotbed of bacteria. Great. My life was complete.

I can conclude that Germans are really nice fellows if they know you… or if they meet you at the toilet. Another possibility could be that I attract gay people. There’s only one certainty: when I drink beer, I’ll have to go to the loo. So no worries: many stories will follow!