Postcards From Berlin #14: You’d Better Take This Sitting Down

By Jeff Allers
April 1, 2007

German Word of the Month: Stammtisch (reserved table for a particular group that meets regularly in a café, bar or restaurant)

Not long after I moved to Berlin, I met one of my new friends in a local café.  We ordered a pair of Milchkaffee, delicious lattes served in a large white bowl without handles, and we sat and talked.  We sat and talked until our bowls were empty, then we sat and talked some more.  Hours passed, the milk froth that was left over from our coffee had long since evaporated, and the sun had changed angles dramatically, yet the waitress did not interrupt our conversation once and even had to be flagged down to get the bill when we were finally ready to leave.

In the years since my first Berlin café experience, I’ve spent much of my time here sitting and talking.  I must admit, it took me awhile to get used to this.  It seems that even in rural America, we are always going somewhere—even in a hurry to get somewhere.  Berliners, on the other hand, never have to tell each other to “sit down and stay awhile"—people just do.  If someone comes to your door and you invite them in, expect them to stay awhile.  If you’ve extended an invitation or received one, block off the whole day on your calendar.

And at neutral sites like the Berlin cafés I love, you can get a lot of mileage from a single cup—or bowl—of coffee.  Some people sit and talk so much at their local café, Eckkneipe (corner pub), or Gasthaus (bar and grill) that their group gets a Stammtisch, a table reserved for them.  It’s good advice to foreigners to be careful never to sit at someone else’s Stammtisch—unless you are invited, of course, in which case you should be prepared to sit awhile.  And talk.

In Berlin, there’s a lot to talk about.  The locals usually avoid observations about the weather and delve right into heavier topics.  Favorites are philosophy, history, world politics and the environment, and Berliners are not afraid to speak exactly what is on their minds, even if they know that their conversation partner has a completely different opinion.  This directness can often be seen as rudeness by other cultures that are more used to beating around the bush when faced with sensitive issues.  In fact, stepping on toes is almost guaranteed.  It’s a melting pot city, after all, and Berliners just assume that opinions will—and should—clash. Although sometimes a little more tact would do them well, I find their openness and fearlessness of debate as refreshing as the giant Milchkaffee I consume as we’re trying to solve the world’s problems.

This culture of sitting and interacting around a table can’t help but feed the nation’s passion for board games.  And when gaming, as always, few issues are taboo (except when actually playing Taboo), and oftentimes a healthy debate will ensue.  And after many hours of coffee, conversation and competition, it’s difficult not to feel a sense of community.

I feel it is important to clarify, however, that this cultural predisposition to sit for long periods of time does not imply that Germans are lazy.  On the contrary, they are practically world-famous for their work ethic, although the average work week is still less than 40 hours.  I suppose you could say that when Germans work, they really work, and when they stop working, they really stop.  And when they stop, they don’t always just sit around.  They also enjoy walking.

This differs greatly from the type of walking we do in the U.S. which consists mostly of going from the parking lot to the department store and back.  It is also unlike the fitness walkers, who squeeze in a half-hour speed walk with the goal of trying to get back into shape.  No, Germans walk for the sheer pleasure of it, or “for no particular reason” as Forrest Gump would say.  Like sitting and talking, it is often a community activity.  Especially on Sundays, when shops are closed, one can see groups of friends or families out strolling and talking.

I even have friends who belong to a “walking club.” In fact, there is probably an official club in Germany for just about any organized activity.  After all, Germans do have a reputation for being organized, and there seems to be a strong innate desire in this country to make things official.  An average person’s work desk, for example, always includes an incredible array of rubber stamps that will make just about any document an “official” one.  I suppose that, once a group of Germans finds an activity that they enjoy doing together, the logical next step is to make it a government-registered club with meetings, a president and a treasurer.  The club is then awarded a collection of rubber stamps to make their documents official.

I admit that I never saw any official documents, but the walking club was certainly well organized.  I once spent an afternoon with my friends and the other club members, walking for hours on wide scenic paths that cut through dense woods.  We talked along the way as we sipped hot spiced wine from a thermos until we reached a hunting lodge where a steaming plate of cabbage and sausages awaited us.  Once there, we gobbled down the feast, leaned back in our rustic seats, and sat and talked for hours.

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