So, we're neither German (at least not in terms of nationality), nor tree-hugging hippies (no offense to my hippie friends). But after years of ignoring that nagging feeling that maybe we ought to recycle, we finally bought a few extra bins this past July and turned our waste system into something which would make our German relatives beam proudly. Or so we'd like to think.
However, there is certainly an art form to separating one's rubbish, and though one might argue that the affinity and ability for Germans to do it so efficiently must have a DNA-link, the scene I encountered this past week would make Danny's Oma gasp in dismay.
Cue the "Psycho" stabbing music.
Obviously, when it came to Danny's recycling genes, the American genes won out over the German ones. Surely his German half must have cried out in protest at this haphazardly-gleeful cramming of cardboard and paper into this bin. The very idea sounds like a schizophrenic cartoon.
Thankfully, my maternal great-grandparents both had German roots, so the 1/16th German in me came to the recycling bin's rescue.
Ahhhhh, no more overflow. Now this is a neatly-sorted bin.
Disaster averted, my 1/16th German self could proceed to the next challenge: ordering just the right wool socks to wear with my sandals this summer.
Ok, just kidding. I've got to draw the line somewhere!
If you're looking for delightfully amusing vignettes and escapades regarding German culture and lifestyles, you should check out Expat Eye on Germany, an Irish-woman's recounting of daily life while teaching in Berlin. It's a tongue-in-cheek blog best read with a mas of beer in hand and the understanding that no topic is off-limits for "BerLinda."