Germany in my Skin

By: Linda Villamarín

I still remember the first time I came to Germany. A first time that would repeat itself in my mind as dejavu over the next few years. 

I’ve always had the feeling that I’m visiting her for the first time because Germany is a reserved but imposing lady who only allows herself to be discovered little by little. 

You can go to all the tours you can find, and they will tell you all the stories that exist about kings, churches, and castles. You can take a thousand pictures in the middle of the squares, holding some nice beer or wearing a traditional costume, and still not get to know her. Because Germany is a lady with the wisdom that only age gives her; she takes her time to welcome you into her world, touching each of your senses in her own time. 

First, you arrive and your sense of smell is enticed. When I arrived at the central station, I smelled roasted nuts. Germany smells sweet, and every time I visit her, the first thing I notice is her scent. It smells like Christmas all year round. I don’t know if the residents are aware that their country smells like sweet memories, but it’s beautiful and warm. It’s a smell that gives you heat and smiles. It is wonderful. 

Then you listen to her. The sounds start the moment you get off the plane or train. Every part of your body is focused on understanding, on identifying the sound of the country. Your ears become giant; they double in size and you almost have to close your eyes to hear better. Germany has its own sound that comes from the throat and is fast. It’s like an exotic bird; you stare at it to decipher it and even if you don't understand it, you’re still there listening to its singing just to perceive the sound. It took me months to understand just a few words, but I always loved the sound of the voices. They speak without pauses and with force, like the wind, or the sound of winter. When fall is over and the wind blows hard to say goodbye. That’s how Germany sounds. 

Then comes the touch. You feel it in your body because it is cold, but she’s got you covered. Germany is a cold country, even in the summer. You’ll be surrounded by huge buildings with high, symmetrical walls. Perfection, balance, and order. The ice of the climate is compensated by the heat that makes you feel safe. Like a fur coat. Her touch freezes you and makes you put your hands together to rub them and make you warm, almost like a silent applause for the country you’ve just arrived in, but which is already covering you. She subtly touches your whole body, you feel it in your bones, in your toes, in your ears. The color of your skin transforms, pales, and the cheeks and nose become soft red. Germany has just branded your skin without warning, as a cow that now belongs to the herd. 

The view comes last because you never land in the historic center. You get there from the outside, through the forest, and along the wide road that welcomed us. She touched my eyes and I will never forget that moment. I came out of one of the subway stations, not knowing that at the end of the escalator would be one of the most beautiful buildings I’ve ever seen, waiting for me. I went up to an architectural heaven, of old, baroque buildings, full of detail and adorned with the beauty of the years. The kind you must raise your head to the sky to see completely, the kind that does not fit in any photograph because they’re delighted and jealous of their own beauty. They are perfect and they know it. They let us to look at them but not take them home. They’re for seeing and not touching. Proud and perfect European ladies. They make us addicted to watching and visiting them, like night lovers, upper class ladies, forbidden but public. 

She finally lets you taste her. You grab the beer, stick your fork in some sausage, or take a bite of one of their breads or desserts and then you know you have arrived. The food will only enter through your mouth, as obvious as it sounds, because the flavors of Germany can be delicious, but they do not give away that flavor through their looks. They’re as mysterious as their castles. You cannot get an idea of their flavors, because like good Germans, they are proud and will only let you discover them slowly. 

German flavors have their own temporality. When they pass through your mouth, you can't immediately identify their particles. You have to close your eyes, eat slowly, feel them running through you, changing their taste from the tip of your tongue until they reach your throat. They change, even when you have finished eating, they leave you with a taste, a sensation. Like when you have just been caressed and you still feel the hand on you after your lover has already left. They are flavors that stay in the body, in the brain. They are intoxicating but in a good way. Then you open your eyes and discover that they invaded your whole body, that they were not subtle. They were strong and imposing. It was not a caress; it was a whole night that left your hands marked on your skin. 

Germany knows how to reach every part of us. She does it to me every time I visit her, and I let her do it. It touches me, whispers to me, invades me; I feel it, I rediscover it, and I love it. I give myself to her and let myself go knowing that she will win. I give myself for the guilty pleasure of feeling her all over me.