I had an unremitting desire to visit German land and defame the idea that women in Germany either look like they have penises or do, in fact, have penises. Naturally that when you visit you girlfriend's country your intention is not to endeavor in detecting those refulgent bulky crotches underneath those skirts, but to engage in feeding your curiosity about the country, and limit yourself to just observing. I did not talk much because the language is as hard to me as it is for a Brazilian man to get a green card, so I remained inexorable in listening patiently to all the stories my female lover and sex companion had to narrate. I was overwhelmed. Kathleen's father told stories from the German side in world war II that were everything but insipid. He retold the true events that Americans and the rest of the world tend to ignore under the atrocities of the SS in the Nazi regime, as blinding hate covers every eye and leaves the world in a dangerous ignorance that becomes fragile and vapid. No one really knows of how many women and children were raped by the polish when some of the German territory was given to Poland as part of an agreement after the war. Neither do we know that in several villages the German mayors who had nothing to do with the Holocaust were taken by the Russians into the same fate, inside a gas chamber. Ugly ruled in Germany even after the war. The most impressive story was that of Kathleen's grandfather. The man was injured by a blowing grenade on his leg, severe enough to leave him unconscious in a pile of dead bodies. He would later be found by a Russian doctor and adequately amputated. However, the cure of his leg did not cure the fact that he was a war prisoner of the III Reich, so he was moved to degrading working fields, orientated by nefarious Russian superiors. The leg was the least of his problems. The Russians were not as amiable as the Americans when it came to feeding prisoners of war. Grandpa ordered no more rice to be cooked in his household ever again, after years of only eating one spoonful of rice a day. The rest was snow, fatigue, anger and an immense lack of innocence. Another impressive fact is the location of where he was found - no other but in the battle of Stalingrad. Aproximately one million axis went there to fight, which ultimately means that my girlfriend is the grand daughter of one of the five thousand that came back in 1955.
This way, I strongly urge you to embrace German culture. Here are some movies I recommend:
