German Pillows

Ach, the German pillow. Das Kopfkissen.  

Most are square to begin with, these German pillows, measuring 80 x 80 centimeters (about 31 x 31 inches).

In America, a square pillow of that size is designed for a sleepy cat or a small dog. Is a person supposed to balance their whole upper body on one of these wedges? (See diagram below.)

How exactly do German pillows work? That is the question. 

Sure, they look good on your bed, especially when the linens you buy include a pillow case for an 80-by-80. You are forced to have such a pillow, or you're wasting good flannel. But is the German pillow functional? I say no. 

My friend Roxann came to visit the first year I lived here. She couldn't sleep all night on my bed, because of the German pillow. It was too soft, it was too flat, it gave her no support. She chose to sleep on the hard, uncomfortable couch the next night just to avoid wrangling with the German pillow. I felt bad about that, but she was adamant. 

Does this look comfortable to you? 

After her visit, I threw the German pillow away. 

I understood Roxann's complaints, because I hadn't used it much myself before she had arrived. Yes, it was almost brand new, this weak, squishy thing full of feathers that didn't hold its shape, but it (like some people) was high-maintenance. All night long, I had to squish it and squeeze it, form it and fold it. My head popped off of it several times. It unfolded itself and became a limp, flat, useless SQUARE head support. It didn't last longer than one night on my bed, except I could use it for guests, who maybe had a clue as to how it might work. After all, weren't these square pillows the standard?

No, my head needed support, so after one night with the awful German pillow, I bought a few inexpensive (3-euro-each) throw pillows to support my bean. These worked wonderfully. 

And they were made in Poland.

Why couldn't I find a smaller, firmer, rectangular pillow to hold my head up? Didn't Germans make such a pillow? I searched and searched. 

Ah, then I discovered this thing called IKEA: the horrifically huge home marketplace, where you can buy almost anything, including crackers, hot dogs... and pillows.  

I picked out a rectangular pillow that seemed firm. It was in the "side sleeper" pillow section. 

In America, we didn't have a side sleeper, back sleeper, or a stomach sleeper pillow section. We just had pillows: soft, medium, or firm; foam or feather. 

Examining the IKEA pillow, I thought years of scientific study must have gone into its engineering. Hmmm. 

It still had to go through my examination. Right there in the IKEA, I tested the pillow by putting my head upon it more than once, standing upright and leaning onto one of the display racks, pillow under my head. (I couldn't lay down on the floor!) I squeezed it. I bunched it. It was almost unbunchable, and that was a good thing. I put it back, and I squeezed and bunched other pillows. My new pillow had to be just right. Finally, I returned to my first choice, taking the plunge, heaving a sigh, and putting it into my basket. I even found a pillowcase that would fit the little gem. 

When I got home, I was excited for the night to come, so I could sleep on a pillow that might be something like the pillows back home. My throw pillow days were surely at an end, and I could join the rest of the German population in using a regular pillow. Sure, this one was a bit narrower from the top edge to the bottom edge, but it had to be good, because it was rectangular. 

Sadly, the pillow and I didn't mesh -- it gave in to my heavy head and my neck still had to do lots of work. The pillow couldn't hold up its end of the bargain. I pushed and pulled, doubled and dodged. I just couldn't get comfortable. The pillow might work for decoration, but not for the serious business of holding my skull in the proper position while I slept. 

I gave up. I continued sleeping with my throw pillows. They became some of my best friends. 

Then I went back home to the USA the next summer to clean out my storage unit. Buried beneath books and rugs, I found my two favorite pillows. I clutched them to my chest, almost sobbing with happiness. My pillows! Oh, the nights we had spent happily together. I had hit the jackpot, and the pillows were perhaps the most welcome of all my former treasures. Then I found my favorite pillowcases -- two flannel, and another handed down from my grandma. Hurriedly, as if grabbing a suitcase full of cash, I crammed the pillows and cases into the mini-van I was driving, making sure they were safe and secure behind the middle seat. I decided right then I would have to bring all of them back to Germany, no matter how much it cost. On the drive across America, I could rely on those trusty pillows to keep me comfy, in case I had to sleep in the van. (And one night, I did.)

Just to make sure my pillows were flying across the Atlantic, I bought a giant suitcase and put them in first thing, under my clothes. It was worth paying the $100 for an extra bag.

God bless America, and the American pillow

Now those two pillows rest on my bed. I love them. I couldn't live without them. 

Yes, I have giant German square pillows -- two brand new ones because I have a new apartment and it has to be outfitted properly -- but I can't use them for me. Maybe my next set of guests can try them out. Good luck! They look good, but they don't work. 

Even a German will tell you they have to quetschen das Kopfkissen. 

Go to it, Germans. Enjoy your scrunching. Meanwhile, I will sleep like a baby. 


Wörterbuch / Dictionary

das Kissen - the pillow (any)
Kopfkissen - the bed pillow (lit. "head pillow")
quetschen - to squash