Living Abroad: A Guest Post by Amy Poeppel

A hilarious culture clash of epic proportions, this is the story of a two families trading places and the ridiculous, yet resonant, consequences of their decision. Read on for an exclusive essay from author Amy Poeppel on writing Far and Away.

About twenty years ago, I found myself in Berlin, sitting in a child’s chair in an elementary school classroom, with my knees jutting above the little table I was sharing with a few other moms. It was my first parents’ night at my oldest son’s school, and I had been concentrating, truly struggling to understand anything in the teacher’s endless speech – which was no easy feat given that he was speaking entirely in German. I was completely and utterly lost. I had a pen in my hand and a notebook on the table, ready to jot down the pedagogical minutiae, but I had written absolutely… nothing. It felt horrible to be missing critical information about my son’s homework and other classroom expectations. But in the last moment, to my delight, the teacher suddenly switched to English.

“And now, for ze benefit of certain mothers,” he said with a heavy German accent, “I vould like to say a few vords.” I was relieved, of course, but also mortified to find that all the parents had turned to stare at me. I was the only non-German in the room.

“Some people here,” the teacher said, “seem to think it is acceptable to be sending children to school with sandwiches made of white bread. But I have to say,” and he shook his head in disgust, “zis is very bad. In Germany, our students eat dark bread, which is a much more healthier choice.” He turned to me and wagged a finger. “Schwarzbrot, Frau Poeppel. Black bread. You can buy zis at any bakery. And I hope I will never see another slice of white bread for the rest of year, ja?”

I wanted to crawl under the tiny table as all the mothers nodded in judgmental agreement. Needless to say, my kid never got white bread in his lunch box ever again. After that, it was nothing but Schwarzbrot and cucumber slices.

During the two years I lived in Berlin, I endured countless embarrassing situations in which my culture clashed with that of my host country. I experienced miscommunications, many of which struck me as funny over time. My rudimentary German could cause uncomfortable confusions. During an episode of frenetic grocery bagging in a local store, I bumped into a gentleman and said – in German! – “Entschuldigung, dass ich Sie gebumst habe.” Both the guy and the cashier gasped and turned red. Only later did I realize that, thanks to my terrible German, I had apologized for having had sex with the man.

As I wrote Far And Away—a book about a Texan woman and a German woman who swap homes—I wanted to capture that feeling of not quite fitting in, of being misunderstood, of trying—and often failing—to communicate. I also hoped to convey the thrill of being in a new place, of learning and growing. And above all, I wanted to share the joy of realizing that I just might fit in after all.