Wait and Zieh
Virginia Baker
I recently read a comic strip that sums up my feelings after four months in Germany . The lady behind the sandwich counter says to her downtrodden customer, "Cheer up, Cosmo. You've just got to keep pushing." Nonplussed, Cosmo replies, "I've been doing that all my life, only to discover that the world is a door marked 'pull'."
"Drücken" and "Ziehen" : "Push" and "Pull," respectively, appear next to the handle of every swinging door in the entire German-speaking world. Walking into the grocery store, out of the post office, into the cathedral, out of the bathroom-drücken and ziehen accost me at every turn.
The reason for the signs is quickly evident; whereas swinging doors in the United States are generally delineated by the handle, every single door handle in Germany looks exactly the same, whether it is meant to be pushed or pulled. What's more, double doors often swing in opposite directions, the left one being a "drück" door while the right is a "zieh" door. So Drücken ("drück" rhymes with "book") and Ziehen ("zieh" sounds like "see") save a lot of frustration and a considerable number of bruises in the end.
But while "Drücken" and "Ziehen" signs may be helpful to the average German, I find myself constantly doubting my own instincts. I know that Ziehen means Pull, but when I come to a Ziehen door, I can't remember whether Pull entails leaning forward or backward. I sometimes stand puzzled before a door for several seconds, oblivious that someone on the other side is waiting to come through Oh, the utter confusion. Oh, the amazing Lat muscles I've built while tugging at a Drück door. Oh, the wonders of loitering in front of a Ziehen door as the person on the other side Drücks it into my head.
Drücken and Ziehen, or "Give and Take" as we say at home, is not just a problem when passing from one hallway to another. The brute honesty and clipped formality ubiquitous to Germany make it difficult to gauge the climate of social situations. All the signs that once proved so useful-the firmness of a handshake, the length of eye-contact, the number of telephone rings-are of no use here. Was Frau Martens really inviting me to dinner, or was she just being polite? When Reuben said my Birkenstocks were out of style and "hässlich", was that an insult or just a friendly fashion tip? Did the Schmidts laugh at my hostesss gift because they liked it, or because it was somehow inappropriate? If only the social scene in Germany were as well-defined as the doors!
Some days, the insecurity builds up to the point where every single interaction leaves me unsettled. At first, I interpreted Germans' formal mannerisms and scrupulous punctuality as strange; as I become more integrated into the society, I see how odd I must seem to them. I am the overly friendly and relaxed American trying to laugh my way through this serious and efficient world. But this is where Drücken and Ziehen come into the picture. It is not so important, I have found, to instinctively know when to push and when to pull, as it is to be willing to read the signs and keep trying.
Succinctly put, if Drücken doesn't work, I wait and Zieh. When a circumstance (or a door) hits me in the face, I have a good laugh, chalk one up to experience, and try again. When life seems especially obstinate, I kick it-and gingerly, nursing my bruised toe, keep walking.
