Opinions are like, um, noses.
Many expats are simply unaccustomed to the bluntness of Bavarian strangers. Elderly Münchnerinnen, in particular, delight in dishing out “don’ts”—women shouldn’t sit on concrete stairs or they will suffer a horrible ovary infection, passengers should not open more than one window on the S-Bahn in the heat of summer because of the deadly “draft,” water should not be consumed after eating cherries, wash your windows, but not on Sunday and, for God’s sake, always wear a scarf if the temperature is below 60° F.Last month, I discovered even more about some Münchner. In fact, from the moment I gently lowered my new, 15-week-old Scottish Terrier puppy, Agnes, to her “very own” patch of green grass outside my urban home, I have become an expert in Bavarian dog lore. “Oh, my, is he a fine fellow”—shouted the first passersby, after carefully inspecting my little one’s underbelly and discovering the tuft that the groomer had forgotten to clip. Many other dog walkers, who stop to greet Agnes, inform her that she is playful (duh!) and that, after the age of four she will no longer play at all—and, by the way, would I kindly teach my puppy (innocently wriggling on her leash) to behave less enthusiastically in the presence of her canine elders. I now have a full understanding of the origins of the slang for a catty woman—I have been told countless times: “Bitches cannot stand other bitches.” I guess that one makes sense.
With each new day, my knowledge of local pet etiquette broadens. With a smile, I agree to purchase the dog a winter coat so her bladder will remain healthy. Throwing my head back in a hearty fake chuckle, I vow that Agnes will not be allowed to sniff, bark or chase her tail. Those who scold me—“Do you work? Puppies should not be left alone all day!”—are told that I have been graciously granted permission to bring Aggie to work. This is always met with a rather joyful response—I am golden. It was, therefore, puzzling, and upsetting, to me when a young woman approached my lap dog on the bus one snowy day. Patting Agnes’ head she sneered (cowardly speaking to the pup, of course), “What a shame that people think it is okay to drag along a baby wherever they go.”
This month, Munich Found’s editorial assistant, Homa Rastegar, examines the cultural differences (United States vs. Bavaria) in teaching methods. As an English teacher at a local primary school, she has learned from her students that, in the Isar city, you usually have to be cruel to be kind. While I am sometimes a tad disheartened that, in Munich, “eat or be eaten” is a way of life—politely holding a store door for one shopper may mean a new career as a doorman—I am happy to report that, when it comes to hounds, the majority of my dog’s admirers are anything but tough. In fact, I have discovered, to my delight, that under the bold Bavarian breast beats a heart for beasts.
