40 Steaks in the Freezer and a Clean Car in Every Garage : German Reporter Finds L.A.’s No Berlin on the Pacific

Americans have a tendency to assume that their habits are everyone’s habits. But when it comes to the everyday business of shopping and spending, our ways--especially here in California--can seem awfully peculiar to the uninitiated. Markus Gunther, a writer for the German newspaper Wesdeutsche Allgemeine Zeitung in Essen, spent the summer working at The Times and living in the San Fernando Valley. We asked him to share his observations on Californians’ economic mores.

After two months in Southern California, I am almost completely assimilated to the L.A. lifestyle: I spend three hours a day in the car, nine hours a day in the office, easily call my boss “Bob” and put my feet on the desk every once in a while.

On the weekends I go jogging in Venice with a Walkman and a football cap. All I am missing to become a real Californian, I am told, is a shrink and a gun in the glove compartment.

But the more difficult part of becoming a Californian was adapting to the local habits of spending money.

When I first went to do some grocery shopping, I suddenly realized: We aren’t in Germany anymore, Toto. American supermarkets are huge; one has twice as many choices.

Picking up some yogurt, for example, was much more of a problem than I expected. I had the choice of a “low-fat yogurt,” a “fat-free yogurt” and a “totally fat-free yogurt”--none of which sounded very appealing. Then there was “non-cholesterol yogurt” and “artificially sweetened yogurt,” all kinds of “light” yogurt and yogurt with different combinations of “low,” “free” and “non” characteristics, as well as a “super-light yogurt.”

Overwhelmed by these choices, I asked a clerk, “Where do I find a regular yogurt?”

He looked at me oddly, so I explained, “You know, a simple, ordinary, normal yogurt with milk, fat, sugar and some fruit in it.”

But my explanation only made him look at me more oddly.

“Sorry, we don’t have such a yogurt,” he said, shaking his head in confusion.

Most of what I have learned about American spending habits I owe to my colleagues.

Reporter K., for example, with whom I have been staying the last two months, has taught me everything about shopping, groceries and keeping up the indispensable provisions of a California household.

He has one of these huge refrigerators--twice the size of ours--and a freezer of equal girth. He shops but once a week (whereas we go almost daily) and buys in volume as if he were preparing for the Big One.

K. fulfills some classic European stereotypes of America. The freezer is always stuffed with meat, particularly steaks, and the refrigerator is full of Coke and 20 different steak sauces. About 40 steaks is the standard provision; whenever supplies would threaten to fall under 25, K. nervously said: “Hey, Markus! We are short of steaks.”

K. amazed me too with his method of making iced tea--though I understand it is the typical American technique. He boils the water, puts in the tea and places the pitcher with hot tea in the fridge. Germans would never do that, for fear of wasting energy.

It is colleague P., meanwhile, who has taught me how to order coffee. In all my naivete, without him I would simply have ordered “coffee.” Now I know that I must choose between “decaf,” “double decaf” and “espresso decaf.” Drinking “decaf espresso” still appears to me a perfect example of our proverb, “Please, wash me--but don’t make me wet!” Anyway, I have broadened my horizons and now know how to order like a real Californian.

It was also P. who showed me how to tip a waiter. Since service in Germany is included in the price of a meal, tips are very modest. And no one has to tip anyone if he or she doesn’t want to. This may be why some waiters in the Santa Monica tourist spots wear little stickers saying, “Tips not included.” That, I am sure, is meant for German tourists, many of whom have probably left 50 cents on the table and thought they were being generous.

Colleague J. has taught me something even more important: the high art of caring for a car in California. I perhaps would not have washed my rental car for two months. But then I learned that a car’s cleanliness is a mirror of one’s social standing in California.

And most of all, I learned how exhilarating a car wash can be.

In Germany, a car wash is boring. Here, it is a place of worship. My favorite car wash in L.A. impressed me with its unique architecture--a very authentic mixture of a New England country home and the villa of a Roman patrician.

And one does not simply drive the car in and out of the car wash, but rather takes a cup of coffee--preferably cappuccino double decaf--and walks along the windows, making sure the car is doing all right.

Californians’ pets are the objects of a comparable level of investment.

The first time I heard one radio commercial--”If your dog has a problem with his weight, come to us”--I took it for satire. Then I figured out they were serious about offering diet food for pets.

Indeed, there is a whole industry in the United States that delivers the richness of modern human life to cats, dogs, horses and guinea pigs--delicacies of all kinds, nutrition consultation if doggie has a little tummy ache, sport clubs and hairdressers, not to mention psychiatrists who help the cat with her depressions.

Another unknown industry I discovered in L.A. is cosmetic surgery. I have been astonished how much money people spend on their body obsession. Back home, the only kind of cosmetic surgery that is very popular is having one’s teeth straightened. Phony breasts, noses, muscles, chins and cheeks still sound to me like an appalling sci-fi story.

It all makes me think about leaving this unprofitable business of writing and, instead, running my own business importing all the fancy things you have here to Europe. Germany is still so backward and underdeveloped. We water our lawns with a hose, mostly pay cash, use returnable bottles for beer and soft drinks (instead of these handy little disposable aluminum cans you have). And we’re not much for swallowing vitamin pills yet.

Then again, exporting German goods here could be a rewarding undertaking as well--especially if I could arrange to bring German beer to the States. So far, Americans are doing a lousy job on this essential problem. Not only are the imports expensive, but--take it as a confidential tip from one beer drinker to another--most of the stuff they sell here as German beer most Germans would never drink.