I fucked up
On Thursday I was riding my way to work, through the cherry blossoms, bathed in the gorgeous overly blue, crystalline spring-time sunlight. It's stunning out there. I get to just before my office and there's roadworks going on directly outside our building, which is, unfortunately, forcing cyclists onto the footpath to get around it (against the law here in Germany).
It's quiet, 8:30am or so, so I pop onto the path for the 30 meters extra before I turn into the building's courtyard, and the only person on the footpath in front of me is a tall, balding man, with his frisky Dalmation, who is, as all here with a structured German upbringing do, standing on the right side of the path to ensure a proper flow of pedestrian traffic at all times.
I maneuver to overtake him by going left around him on my bike, and he fucking loses it. I turn around as I began to dismount my bike and he's already called me an "Arschloch [asshole]" while shouting in my face (but from a good two metre respectful distance, because Germans can be a tad shy about getting too close), about how he's sick of people outside his door just riding past on their bikes when they know the rules!
Now, in perhaps any other situation I'd be a bit put off; no one likes being shouted at first thing in the morning, but in my head, I can barely contain my excitement that I'm understanding everything he's saying! In fact, I'm so excited that I start telling him that, "yes yes, you are right" (using the formal "Sie" for "you") and that it's a valid point and I'm already off my bike so will continue walking as is. I just wanted to keep chatting, truth be told.
Germans are very funny. They get so high intensity, but sometimes they seemingly don't realise that what they're doing has any effect on people around them. It's a switch between overly conscious about the way they are perceived by others, contrasted with going balls-to-the-wall-I-don't-give-a-fuck within an instant. This man embodies this switch: completely ballistic one moment and then as soon as I tell him he's actually right, he, almost surprised at himself and his current state, immediately turns to saying a very genuine "thanks" and giving me a thumbs up. I'm loving every moment of this.
What I suspect he didn't realise is that we work in the same building he lives. I am now walking in front of him to the entrance of said building and as I turn in off the street, I imagined him deeply cringing inside that he's gone 'nanas at his neighbour, and on top of that, calling someone an "Arschloch" is actually punishable by law with jail-time and a fine! Whoops. Instead, he decides to hang back at the entrance on the path, shouting more at other cyclists going by. What a guy.
Somehow this made my day. I'm getting better than I expected, but it's still a slog to speak a lot. It's a hard language, but it's swirling around my brain and I find myself wanting to chat more in it. Those are good signs.
So, he was right, I was wrong, I fucked up by being on the foot path, yet for me it was for the best.
Thanks, dude, and don't worry, I'll not be reporting you to the police. This time.
After I wrote the story above, I ended up having another cultural experience on the way home. While riding my bike, I came up to a fairly busy, four-way, suburban intersection. We (some other cyclists and a car) are coming up to the intersection and need to give way, so we pull up and stop, waiting for the cars and bicycles on the main road to pass and/or turn in to our street.
On my left, a cyclist is coming past in front of us on the perpendicular street, yet a car turning from the other side of said street trying to come into ours, somehow does not see the rider (the sun was glaring into his eyes, I think) and slowly pulls into the path of the cyclist! I shout "WATCH OUT!" (in English, having completely forgotten the interaction from this morning), but the car, almost comically slowly, manages to just tap the back wheel of the cyclist as it crossed in front of the car. The cyclist is surprised and weirdly chill, maintains control (thankfully), but is put off balance, and then careens, slowly but surely, into the bumper of the car waiting alongside us at the give way, giving a fairly nice scratch to the front of said bumper.
The cyclist stops right in front of me, and is fine. The offending driver is obviously freaking out and pulls into our street, clearly trying to find a parking. Hilariously, the two cyclists next to me are all trying to memorise the numberplate of the driver who they think is trying to escape the scene, and they are rattling off the numberplate they can see, which is actually obscured by the car that was hit by the cyclist, as well as another care that clearly didn't give a shit about what was going on and just wanted to go home to enjoy the long weekend.
I laugh inside, because the number plate they are confidently reading is the wrong one, and the driver that caused this has already pulled over and is coming to ask if everyone is ok. Poor guy looked like he'd just ruined everyone's afternoon and was fully aware and sincerely apologetic for what had transpired.
There's a drunk guy in a pink polo shirt over the road shouting "I SAW EVERYTHING, I'M A WITNESS", the other cyclists are adamant that they will report everything as witnesses too, the fellow whose car was scratched is out of his car (also just completely blocking traffic) and head in hands that he now has a three inch scratch on his bumper that will buff right out (Germans love their cars, that stereotype is completely true), the bicycle rider is mildly annoyed (yet fine, I asked him) but seemingly quite into being the center of attention for that moment; and it's one of the most Germanic scenes I've seen in years. Everyone is completely fine, but any other passer-by must've thought a six car pile up had just happened with multiple fatalities.
A scene of the intersection showing how the events transpired.
Twice in one day being almost too much to handle, I get on my bike and leave the scene. I've had enough cultural learnings for one day, but happy to be a part of both, and as the sun shines down on me, I realise I'd fucked up again.
You're meant to stay at the scene if you see something like this, as well as provide any necessary assistance. Fuck. There's still a lot here to learn and remember, but it'll continue to take time: baby steps. I guess I could've stayed to help repaint the dude's bumper or something; he really seems like he had the worst experience of everyone involved.