Berlin

There are many friendly people in Latvia, but no one says “thank you” as often as the Germans.

A woman is unwell in the underground passageway. It is not really clear what’s the matter with her. Confused, with dull eyes, she sits wrapped in a reflective blanket on the floor, leaning against a post, and a police officer is busy with her. A passerby asks if she can be of help. To my Latvian eyes, it seems that the situation is already taken care of; I seriously doubt whether anyone would get involved in Riga. We treat one another a bit too much as if we were invisible. There are many cordial people, but in the public space, everyone wants to be left alone.

In Berlin, the literally iron-fisted understanding to be courteous as an obligatory standard is noticeable everywhere one goes. As a means of saving the face of civilization. Perhaps this is typical of a society whose ancestors only recently experienced how fragile the dividing line of civilization is in humans.

I would not say that we are particularly discourteous or unfriendly in Riga, yet I must admit that the monthly “please and thank you” norm has been exceeded here within one week. Germans say it on every occasion, no matter how brief the contact may be. If they do not, it is probably seen as unthinkable brusqueness. I like the German friendliness rituals and follow them adamantly like a sort of ethical “morning exercise.”






More entries from Undīne Adamaite’s Berlin Journal:

Berlin, 5.1.2013: Neither a False Tourist Nor Truly a Local
Berlin, 6.1.2013: Sunday Rest in the City
Berlin, 7.1.2013: The Berliners’ Lightness of Being
Berlin, 8.1.2013: At the Tagesspiegel
Berlin, 10.1.2013: A Play in a Foreign Language Remains a Façade
Berlin, 12.1.2013: At the Theatre in Knitted Caps
Berlin, 13.1.2013: An Intermediate Summary
Berlin, 16.1.2013: Fired with Premium Fuel
Berlin, 19.1.2013: Blind Date
Berlin, 21.1.2013: Old Fashioned and In Demand
Berlin, 26.1.2013: Čus, Berlin!