Soccer sensations

Cologne/Haan, June 25

The first thing that happened after we had made it out of the Cologne airport last Friday was that N. stepped into dog poop. Won't be the last time, I guess.

One tends to forget these things after ten months of absence. Germany has pretty straight laws against leaving dog poop on the sidewalk, but hardly anywhere are they strictly enforced. In Berlin, for example (probably the German dog capital, too), you shouldn't ever walk through the streets with your eyes simply on people, sights, or traffic lights. At least half of one's attention should be focused on scanning the sidewalk for possible turds.

Things soon got better, though. The weather is gorgeous - seems there IS going to be a summer in Europe this year. And yesterday, when I stepped out of the Cologne railway station, the first thing I saw was a guy picking up his dog's smelly legacy from the sidewalk.

Then, of course, the whole country is in soccer euphoria. Flags everywhere. Hanging out of windows, sticking on cars (eight was the highest number of flags I have counted on a single car), even on baby strollers. Hardly a bar, café, or restaurant that hasn't installed huge TV screens to encourage - and profit from - the collective worshipping of the Soccer God.

Right now, N. (my son), his father (my husband), and his grandfather (my father) are watching the semi final match, Germany against Turkey. Three generations, all experts, of course. Cursing, brawling, yelling, lamenting. The German team is playing like a bunch of toddlers in a sandbox. The coach should be fired and sent to Siberia. The Swiss referee is a partial imbecile (pro-Turkish, of course). And now the TV lines from Basel broke down on top of everything. For the second time. Unbelievable. The score is 1:1.

I'm not a big soccer fan. I even used to hate late Saturday afternoons, when every family in West Germany had to go home from whatever activity they were engaged in because Daddy absolutely had to watch the "Sportschau" on TV, showing the games of the national soccer league.

But I have to admit that I am once again moved by the cheerful patriotism that Germans have been exercising at least in the context of international soccer championships for the last two years. It started 2006 with the World Championship in Germany, which our family experienced during our last summer as residents of Berlin. When Jürgen Klinsmann and his men became heroes. When the whole country was happy. And for the first time, the world liked us. Even more important, we finally seemed to like ourselves.

There are more than solid reasons to hate and fear any German nationalism, of course. But two years as immigrant in the US have made it pretty clear to me that without a healthy dose of patriotism, a country's identity and self confidence probably won't be worth much. And a national identity, a certain feeling of belonging somewhere worth belonging, is something one comes to cherish even more when living as - and sometimes feeling like - a Non-Resident Alien in a foreign country.

There! The German team just scored the third goal against Turkey - it's 3:2 now, 30 seconds before the final whistle. Three generations are jumping up and down on my parents' living room sofa. "We are in the final!", beams N., "maybe we will even become the European champions!" Now the TV shows half a million soccer fans, cheering and celebrating in front of the Brandenburger Tor in Berlin.

Honestly, I couldn't care less whether Germany is soccer champion or not. But seeing all these people celebrate their team and their country, makes me feel just happy to be one of them.

Even if that includes people whose "best friend's" dog poop I sometimes cannot completely avoid.