Note: Due to continuous jet lag and inability to think properly with all this German swarming around me, this post may be a bit muddled and all over the place.
The oddest thoughts run through your mind when you’re up late at night due to jet lag:
- Must remember to put socks on before leggings tomorrow because I’m wearing my short boots.
- I wonder what Growing Pains sounds like dubbed in German.
- Maybe if I dry my hair this way it’ll stop being so orangey and poofy in this city.
- Do red squirrels know they have a less cute cousin running through the trees of Central Park? What does SpongeBob Schwammkompf really translate to?
- Where did I put that nail file/necklace/peice of paper I never really needed and won’t ever need?
I’ve been in Germany for four days now and I’m currently sitting on the couch in “my room” in a relative strangers house. The job of an au pair is a strange one. That’s right. This celebrity consorting, New York City girl has given up her posh existence to play slave to three pre-pubecent Hamburgers (re: the people of Hamburg, not rancid meat on a bun). Stateside I’m Blair Waldorf. Here, I’m Julie Andrews. It’s a stark transition.
Some have called me crazy, others adventurous. I say I was bored. There’s something romantic about picking up and going to a city where no one knows you. To everyone here, I’m just some American broad. That isn’t to say at home I’m anything special, it’s just everyone seems to have some pre-conceived notion about me there - here I am anonymous. It’s a liberating and terrifying feeling.
Thus far most of my time has been spent in my new home, which I can only equate to a Real World house - it seems harmless enough from the outside, but then you walk inside and HOLY SHIT IS THAT A SAUNA?! Yes, there is a sauna in my bathroom. Having my fair share of nice things, I’m not easily impressed by material possessions, but this house is impressive. More importantly, the family is impressive. They work like a well-oiled machine, but are still able to be light-hearted and full of personality. Even with their demanding schedules, the kids are happy and kind. Perhaps they are complaining and arguing in their native tongue, but if so it has gone over my head completely.
But, as I said, the job of an au pair is a strange one. You’re not quite a guest in someone’s home, but there’s still a certain uncertainty reaching in to the fridge for a glass of water. I spent my day yesterday hunting for a three-pronged converter for my computer, then headed “home” for work. Work entailed jumping on a trampoline for an hour, playing football (re: not Handegg) with two of the boys, and putting away some laundry. Hardly seems like work. Maybe it’s the the high demands of the oh-so-rich-and-famous or the whiny needs of my younger brother and sister that prepared me for this “job”, but it really almost doesn’t seem fair taking money for teaching a six year old boy how to do a toe-touch.
I suppose all I can say is here’s to my second attempt at ex-patriotism. Proost!*
*Must look in the eye whenst cheersing, or else seven years bad sex. Just sayin’.
