Stupid American

Dear Faithful Readers,

I hate to admit it but I feel like "Stupid American" could become a regular column. I could easily chart all of the experiences that lead me to feel like an idiot on a regular basis while in foreign lands. God knows I will never forget the ungodly amount of time it took me to figure out how to close the blinds in my Madrid apartment. Dumb, dumb, dumb...

Anyway, considering that we are easing into a new week, I don't think my self-esteem is quite ready for a good flogging yet. I think I'll keep it simple for now.

Oh, Germany, I love you so but sometimes you scare the dickens out of me, especially your...

1) Trams.

This is something that the bulk of Americans are not used to. In fact, we don't even call them trams. We refer to them as streetcars or those cute-as-a-button trolleys of San Fran. Anyway, for those of you who know me, you can attest to my tendency to be well, a bit oblivious to my surroundings at time. Actually, let me clarify. When I need to be on, I can read body language like nobody's business and quickly react to it. Is she nervous? Is he angry? Is that dude gonna try to swipe my purse?

However, when it comes to general daily life on the street, I'm not so good. I've had friends yelling at me, trying to get my attention but it won't be until they step right in front of me that I actually notice them. I guess, most days, I'm just too much in my head.

Throw in the crazy stimulation of a new city and well, well...a big pink elephant could be dancing around and I would only notice the cake shop two feet ahead.

So let's combine this inattentiveness of mine with the trams in Berlin. Do you see where this is going?

I remember my mom having a similar experience in Germany when she was a young lady, bumming around Europe. She and her friend had rented a car and as Americans from rural Wisconsin, didn't quite notice all of those tram tracks. They were too busy reading the map and in the process, almost got themselves flattened out.

For me, I was standing in the median (because New Yorkers cannot wait for the "walk" sign and will dodge across the street, even if it means only getting halfway), observing the traffic flow from the other direction. It was slowing down and as I leaned forward, a mere second from touching my little toes to the street, I was almost knocked over by the wind of a tram zipping by from the opposite direction.

People, this thing was clipping along, a whole six inches from me and I didn't even hear the thing coming or see it zoom by. I felt the air and then it was gone.

Meanwhile, my heart was in my throat. I know my mom worries about me when I travel abroad but it's due to me meeting so many strangers. I highly doubt that she worries about her youngest being taken out by a tram. Or maybe she does because sometimes, the apple doesn't fall far from the tree.

Your faithful correspondent (tucked safely away in her apartment),

Rachael