The German Police

The German police… It’s something special. Totally different than the English, French or Belgian peacekeepers. That Germans don’t like foreigners is well-known, but the police should be unbiased if it comes to that. It started one night in Essen, when I missed my last train back to Gelsenkirchen. Since there was no one in the station, I asked the policeman in front of the entrance if there was any possibility to arrive at my destination in a short period of time. Because this happened in the beginning of my Erasmus period and I wasn’t capable to talk in his language, I asked him in English. He stared at me for five seconds, looked away and said to the air (in German) that it wasn’t his task to help me.

As you can imagine, my first impression wasn’t that good. Later that week I had an inattentive moment when I passed the street while the traffic light was red. I was trying to whistle, but didn’t succeed, so I walked further. All of a sudden a voice appeared, very silent. I turned around and saw a fat policeman (the real stereotype… again) yelling at me while he was sitting in the car. He didn’t want to come out. I was lucky that the fines in Germany aren’t high. Five Euros (I still wonder if he put it in his own pocket) and he let me continue my path, but he couldn’t resist telling me that if I wanted to live here, I had to speak the language. Gestapo style.

So, that’s what I tried to do. I don’t speak the language fluently, but it’s certainly better than the day I came here. Let’s hope it will improve even more during my last weeks in the beautiful town of Gelsenkirchen.