The Shift

           When I look back on my experiences in Germany and Austria, I remember little things: perfect cappuccinos, sweet gummy bears, cobblestone streets, and breath-taking architecture. I remember my painfully-slow attempts to express myself in German, the polite chuckles I received in return, and how practically everything was conveniently translated to English.

What I recall immediately are just details that do not inherently matter, and yet I feel as though I have absolutely been changed by this experience. It’s difficult to put into words at first, and so I revert to the laundry list of European nouns that made up my original understanding of their culture. How ignorant I was!

All of my life I have seen things from my perspective. My American, Texan, conservative, Caucasian perspective. I suppose I considered myself an open-minded person, but now I see that was just a lack of self-awareness. I can’t pinpoint the moment I changed, but there are several foundational experiences which I believe catalyzed my shift in perspective:

Stereotypes are notoriously inaccurate, but I am going to draw one anyway: Germans are a kind, accommodating, and respectful group of people. Whether at restaurants, on the street, or on the train, my attempts to speak German were met with good-humored laughter and polite corrections. In general, people made an attempt to help me improve my pronunciation before switching to English to give me directions or take my order. No one ever refused to answer me or made me feel stupid. It’s give a man a fish vs. teach a man to fish all over again. Each person I spoke to helped me express myself a little better the next time.

The hospitality of the German people was truly humbling. It made me think about how people, myself included, sometimes view immigrants in Texas who speak very little English. So often I have made an assumption about someone’s intelligence simply because they didn’t communicate in my language. And I didn’t even stop to consider the technical difficulty of learning a new language in a foreign country, or the psychological experience of being frequently misunderstood, feeling like an outsider on a daily basis.

I cannot talk about Germany without mentioning Olaf, our program coordinator. He took such care in handling our group’s affairs and ensuring our safe travels, and he met us every morning with a cheerful and genuine smile. I remember one morning, during a tour of one of the anatomical museums, I became very cold but had already checked my coat at the door. Without a word, Olaf took off his coat and put it around my shoulders. I thanked him, and he just smiled like it was nothing and continued looking around the museum. Olaf’s quiet kindness contributed much to my opinion and understanding of the German people, and I am so thankful to have met him.

On that thought, I owe so much of my new knowledge about German history and culture to Dr. Wasser, our professor for the History of Medicine course. Not only did he have an encyclopedic knowledge of everything German, but he expressed it with such contagious passion. He lectured during several museum tours, and frequently the tour would grow, doubling or tripling by the end as small groups of Germans joined our group to hear Dr. Wasser speak.

We were very lucky to have a professor who taught more than what was in the textbook. One lecture that stands out to me regarded the various health care systems, both domestic and abroad. It allowed me to open my mind to the possibility that there are more than two viewpoints on healthcare. I live in a country where progress is generally stifled by two dominating, polarizing political parties. I guess what finally struck me is that things are frequently not black and white; there is usually an option “C” and “D” and so on. I now truly understand that compromise is the key to progress.

Each person approaches problems from a perspective based on unique experiences and ideals, but in the end we are all seeking a solution; the realization that we are all on the same team is so elementary, yet it took me 21 years to come to it. Humankind poses a strange contradiction: from our DNA to our experiences, we are individual, each bringing something unique to the table. But at the end of the day we are the same: we search for purpose, for love, and for knowledge with a common intensity.

            I feel now, as I write, the enormity of my shift. Study abroad is about learning to think differently, making connections where you never imagined they could exist, and breaking out of your comfort zone in order to grow as a person. I am so grateful to have been a part of such a wonderful experience, and I think it will always be dear to me.