Same language, sort of. Take Two...Three!

Before moving to London in 2011, I thumbed through a few different books that were meant to help with the transition from living in the US to living in the UK. Having already been to LDN numerous times over the past 20 years, I felt secure in the knowledge that I did know some things of value already. However, I had expected to make some horrible gaffs along the way. I only hoped that folk would find them funny and not offensive.

From Gaff to Goff

We call the artist who painted the above image ‘Van Go’. However, to those in the UK he is ‘Van Goff’. I didn’t know how many times old Van Gogh would come up in conversation while I was living in London, but I’d be ready!

Slang terms and differing vocabulary

I had read that people from the UK, in general, are not to be called ‘Brits’. That would be like calling us Americans ‘Yanks’ (although I was referred to as such while living in Blighty :D).  And, no, the Republic of Ireland is not a part of the British Isles. If you want to piss off a chick from Co. Dublin, then tell her that.

‘Panties’ are reserved for girls and not the kind of girl you’d find taking such things off for cash at, ahem, Gentlemen’s Clubs. Women in the UK wear ‘knickers’. However, when I hear that word I think of Laura Ingalls Wilder and Little House on the Prairie. 

Probably wore knickers

Nowadays, I think American women wear underwear.

In the UK, being made ‘redundant’ means you’ve lost your job. Buildings, too, can lose their job, as it were, and, all over the country, one can hoist pints in former churches!

When last visiting Douglas, granddad (not grandpa) to a friend’s child, he asked me how life was in ‘Barkley’. Knowing that he meant ‘Berkeley’ made answering fairly straightforward. Prior to moving to the UK, I had thought that his was a particularly So. London pronunciation, given that that’s where he had grown up. However, having consulted the ‘Rules Britannia’ book on English/Scottish/Welsh place name pronunciations, I then understood that when most folk over the pond say any word with ‘erk’ in it, then it sounds like ‘ark’. Easy enough. Although I was never too sure how to say ‘Berkshire’. Is it ‘Barkshu’? ‘Barksha’?

Jacko, Macca, and Madge

I much prefer the way musical celebs are named by the UK press. Michael Jackson goes from ‘MJ’ to ‘Jacko’ abroad. 'Jacko' rhymes with 'Wacko', and, when I think of Michael dangling his baby over the balcony of a German hotel, this British moniker fits.

Macca, actually, seems rather uninspired given that I had read that it’s common for those with a surname beginning with Mc/Mac to be called ‘Macca’. Maybe Paul McCartney should be called ‘Sir Macca’ in order for him to stand out just a bit?

Madonna, a one-named music making power house for the last 30 years, is taken down a notch, and made, somehow more accessible to the ‘little people’ by being called ‘Madge’ in the British press. I guess it’s meant to be a term of endearment. Whenever I hear the name, ‘Madge’, I think of the old TV advert for a dish soap called ‘Palmolive’. In it, manicurists can be seen sitting in a ladies' salon talking about Palmolive. The tag-line was: Madge, you’re soaking in it!!

Ha, I’d like to see Madonna give a mani/pedi.

Loan words

Japanese signage in Katakana. Photo: Sébastien Bertrand

Japanese uses a tremendous amount of loan words from various European languages. Katakana, one of the three writing systems used in Japanese, is used exclusively for this foreign vocubulary. 

Some loan words change meaning when adopted into another language. For example, Arubaito アルバイト taken from the German word for 'work', means simply 'part-time job' in Japanese. 

Some words retain not only their meaning, but also, largely, their pronounciation. Ex.: Kamera カメラ-- camera

Some words undergo sort of an extreme make-over. It can take a while to see/hear/read the connection between the borrowed word and their original language counterparts.

Ex.: Mishin ミシン -- sewing machine  ('Mishin' sounds a bit like 'machine', so there you go!)

German uses a lot of borrowed words as well. Like Japanese, the meaning of these words can either be fairly clear or not at all. 

To an English speaker, der Shitstorm (yes, it's in Duden), das Baby and der Computer make sense. Der Smoking, on the face of it, is a bit of a quandry. Der Smoking means 'tuxedo jacket' or (now an outdated word in English) 'smoking jacket'. I like to think that an image of James Bond smoking a cigarette was the inspiration for this loan word. 

German nouns have a certain solidity and all-encompassing feeling that one doesn't necessarily get from English nouns.  This is especially so when thinking of suitable equivalents to words like, 'Weltanschauung' and 'Zeitgeist'. To use the English translations of these two concepts, 'world view' and 'spirit of the times', just doesn't cut it somehow. 

'Sally is about to start school at the Garden of Children'. That sentence has kind of an eerie ring to it.  And, no, I'll not be sending my child there, thank you, but instead to a Kindergarten. 

Loan words in English from German that I especially like:

Pretzel (Brezel)
Weisswurst, Bratwurst, Knackwurst  (Sausage)
Sauerkraut 
Delicatessen (Delikatessen)-where to find all of the above, hopefully. 

Biergarten
Angst  (Thanks, Freud!)

Weltanschauung
Zeitgeist

Scheisse (can be spoken with or without the final 'e')

-any loan words you find yourself using that you especially enjoy?

にほんご Nihongo (Japanese)

If my cousin were still alive, I'd be able to show him what his surname looks like in hiragana. 

His name consists of four characters, each combining a consonant-vowel cluster. 

Na-ka-mu-ra ---> なかむら

With only very few mistakes, I've managed to memorize the hiragana alphabet since starting this course about a month ago. That's a whopping 46 characters. Some of the characters so very closely resemble each other, I am temporarily thrown when having to produce them on command like during a quiz.  

These characters look like pretzels, in a way, and I get them tripped up in my brain.

me 

め

nu 

ぬ

Actually, seeing them side-by-side helps me to distinguish them from one another. And 'me' looks way more like a pretzel (with a broken arm) than 'nu' does. :D

I took the bus through Japantown (Nihonmachi) today & managed to pronounce some of the words painted on awnings as the bus went by them. Understanding what I was saying is another matter entirely. Like German, Japanese is a phonetic language. One can say scads of stuff without actually knowing the meaning of what is being said. 

Words I like & have committed to memory in hiragana---

kumo  くも  (cloud) because it reminds me of cumulus. 

kaki     かき  (persimmon) I just like the economy of it. 

sushi  すし   easy to remember as we already have the word in our language 

Nihon にほん  (Japan) why don't we use this word or something closely resembling it? 



Alright, I've distracted myself enough for the evening. On to study for a chapter test! 

Nihongo, oh no!

Japanese is now officially super hard. I have memorized hiragana characters a-ho. That's 30 plus characters. While that's nice, that's sort of like memorizing only a sliver of the Latin alphabet. I can write simple Japanese words, but instruction takes place, at this early stage, in romajji--Japanese written phonetically in our alphabet.

ねこ becomes neko (cat)

いぬ becomes inu (dog)

borrowed words in Japanese are also written in romajji--

San Francisco becomes Sanfuranshisuko

Smith becomes Sumisu

engineer becomes enjinia


We're learning motion verbs, and two out of three bear no relation to anything in English (that I know of).

ikimasu--to go (away from the speaker) kinda like hingehen in German

kimasu--to return to the place where you currently are/to invite someone to your house this is some strange circular shizz that I can't plug into anything I already know

kaerimasu--to go home (whatever 'home' means to the speaker) sorta like kehren/zurückkehren in German


The negation of the these verbs, or any verb in Japanese, is pretty easy. The verb ending drops its -u and adds an -en.

ikimasu/ikimasen    (Watashi wa) Ashita Oosaka ni ikimasu. (I am) going to Osaka tomorrow.

kimasu/kimasen  I am at school now when I say: (I am) Asatte gakkoo ni kimasu. (I am) coming to school day after tomorrow.

kaerimasu/kaerimasen (Watashi wa) Korekara uchi ni kaerimasu. (I am) going home afterwards. 


I need to find a language partner, but, maybe more realistically, a language tutor given I can hardly say anything yet.

Nihongo

Kon'nichiwa!

a, i, u, e, o

I just started taking a Japanese course last week. It's a challenge, but a fun one. We're being taught both the romanji (Roman alphabet) and Hiragana (one of three alphabets used) writing systems at the outset. I've only a few short Hiragana words committed to memory. And if I had a Japanese keyboard, I'd show you! Writing the characters is like creating little, tiny pieces of art. Our Latin alphabet isn't so difficult to render, comparatively speaking. This is especially so if one is using block letters. Japanese, by contrast, looks as if it were still written by brush--there are little tales on many of the end strokes. One is meant to reproduce the characters in this way even with a pencil or pen.

Japanese sentence structure is also different from English.

English is: S-V-O or subject-verb-object.
Japanese is: S-O-V.
It also seems that word order in Japanese is less fixed than it is in English. For example, word particles sort of like our prepositions following the noun refer back to the noun, if that makes sense. It doesn't yet make a bunch of sense to me.

Bea (s) san* wa gakusei (o) desu (v). Bea (s) is (v) a student (o).

If one wants to ask if Bea is a student, then the question word 'ka' is simply tacked onto the end of the statement. That's pretty cool & not too difficult to remember.

Bea san wa gakusei desu ka?      Hai, gakusei desu. Yes, (Bea) is a student. The subject in the answer is omitted.

*san is an honorific

Anyway, it's all pretty interesting and full-on. We can already count to 100, use basic greetings & dabble in basic negations. Woot!

It's a good stretch for the old brain. I'm grateful to be there.

Nuts for German

We had a lovely, older client the other day who had a lovely, older Schnauzer. The dog was nearly 15 years old & spent almost the entire time napping in her doggie bed while we cleaned. The woman referred to her dog as 'meed-chin'. Well, that's what the name sounded like to me. I thought it was an interesting name & was about to ask her how she came about it, but then read the doggie bowl, door matt, and dog collar. The dog is actually called Mädchen (or Maedchen, for those of us who don't have an umlaut on the keyboard).

I said aloud to no one in particular, Oh! Mädchen! Spoken aloud, Mädchen doesn't sound like 'meed-chin', to be honest, but I wasn't going to correct this woman's pronunciation. It's her dog, her dog's name & that's that.

I did, however, go Deutsch Lehrerin on her (and then felt stupid for doing so) after the woman told me, 'It means 'little girl' in German.' I said, 'It just means 'girl', actually.'  Then, as I said, I felt stupid. She didn't have us over for a German lesson. She had us over to clean. Technically, you could say that the woman was sort of right. Literally, the word means 'little maid' & its origins date back to the 15th century, I think. In today's parlance, it just means 'girl'.

I have been taking German courses, on and off, for over 25 years. I began learning the language when I was 20 (you do the mathematics).

Needless to say, I dig the language. I also speak German fairly fluently. My accent isn't pegged as 'American' & most people think I'm a native Dutch speaker when I'm speaking German. I'll take that as a compliment, quite frankly. It also means that most folk don't switch into English when I'm conversing with them which further aids in my being able to practice the language. I have some friends whose German is regularly met with English, and they are the worse for it, language-wise.

Recently, I did have someone ask me for German help & I was very happy to oblige. A friend was preparing for his roles both as Emcee & border guard in a local production of Cabaret. He wanted to make sure he was correctly pronouncing the few bits of German dialogue he had. He sent me the page of dialogue with the German. The text did not contain any notes regarding the umlaut vowels. On the page, an 'a' looked like an 'ä', and that doesn't fly. German 'nut' that I am, I sent him this:

A couple of things: 

Remember the ABCs in German for Adam*? After the regular alphabet are the umlaut-vowels: ä, ü, ö.

Your lines feature the ä & ö.

The ä almost sounds like a ‘long a’ in English, not quite but between a ‘long a’ & the ‘e’ in ‘meh’.

You ask for Cliff’s and Ernst’s passports (plural). Then you ask for Ernst’s passport (singular) once Cliff has shown you his without a fuss.

Passport is ‘Pass’ in German. Passports is ‘Pässe’ in German. Pass is spoken with an ‘ah’ sound. As in when the paediatrician used to say ‘open wide’ and we’d say ‘ahhhhh’. Pässe is spoken with the combo ‘long a’ and ‘meh’ sound. (Ask John**to demo this!)

With respect to the ö, I think it’s harder to describe, given that English doesn’t possess this sound at all. I do think, however, that French*** uses an equivalent sound. I could try and send you a voice mail making the ö sound, if that would help.

Text:

Officer: Deutsche Grenzkontrolle (German border control). Ihre Pässe, bitte. (Your passports, please).

English, English, English....

Officer: Ihren Pass, bitte (Your passport, please).

Sie waren geschäftlich in Paris? (You were in Paris on business?)

Ernst: Nein. Auf einer Urlaubsreise (No. On holiday).

Officer: Bitte, öffnen Sie ihren Koffer (Please, open your suitcase). The ‘o’ in Koffer sounds a bit like the ‘o’ in the name of former UN head Kofi Annan.

Officer: Haben Sie nur diesen einen Koffer? (Do you just have the/this one suitcase?) Certainly, by inserting the word ‘einen’ (meaning ‘one’) in the question you’re placing emphasis on the fact that you’re scrutinizing the fact that Ernst has just one suitcase (or does he?).

I went to see Cabaret & noticed that not only did my friend not take on board any of my pronounciation advice (doubt he'd even read the above note I sent him), but also that the passport control officer's dialogue had been reconfigured to exclude the German word for 'passports'. Still, as Emcee, my pal did a wonderful job!

*I drew an ABCs auf Deutsch sheet for his son, Adam.
**His husband, John, speaks some German.
***My actor friend speaks some French.

Tuesday

The onslaught of rain in recent months means that we, after about five years, are officially out of drought conditions here. I saw a man watering his lawn in broad daylight the other afternoon, and thought: Good for you! The one downside of all the rain is that severe flooding & mudslides are displacing many from their homes, and, in some unfortunate cases, taking lives. The Red Cross has opened numerous shelters in flood zones around California for those affected & thank goodness.

***

Trump's still publicly trumpeting ridiculous statements that don't jibe with reality. His latest blather made it seem as if there were specific, targeted unrest in Sweden recently due to the influx of immigrants/refugees there. Sweden's US Embassy twitter account posted this in response: We look forward to informing the US administration about Swedish immigration and integration policies. Translation: they ain't having it. Former Swedish PM, Carl Bildt, also weighed in with this gem: Sweden? Terror attack? What has he been smoking? Questions abound. Well, Carl, expect to be detained at length by TSA were you to come to the states during Trump's reign.

Bork! Bork!

Press Secretary Melissa McCarthy, perhaps so fatigued by having to constantly defend Trump's verbal gaffs to the press, he hasn't yet garnered the strength to respond to 'last night in Sweden'. To be honest, he's probably too busy attacking the good people at the Anne Frank Center right now. Take a break, Spicey, you've sort of earned it.

***

I'm currently taking a German course at a local school. Today, I availed myself of the language lab as part of my course requirements. It was my first time in the lab & I had no idea how to access the online course lessons. Sat near the students' area, I spied a German instructor who, I thought, was on-hand to help. (Well, at least that's what her colleague at the check-in desk led me to believe.) I turned to the instructor and said: ich bräuchte Hilfe/I would need help.  She said: Sie brauchen Hilfe/You need help. Ja, I said and continued to speak to her in German. She then responded to me solely in English. My German, in Germany & German Switzerland, is met with German & Swiss German, respectively. That means that my German, to put it crudely, doesn't suck. Why the instructor responded in English, I don't know, but it was off-putting at best. Before the meat of the exchange really kicked off, as I was settling in to my computer spot, she was making her way to leave. Her 'shift' was over, I guess? Not yet daunted, I did ask her if she knew where the online German instruction was to be found, and she obliged before dashing away. Note to self: don't rely on the language lab German instructor for help in the language lab regarding German. Ah, bless this school.

German club meeting with a bit of history.

We met this month for our regularly scheduled German language Treff. It was our first since coming face-to-face with the young, confused right-extremist kid, M., back in November. 'Keyboard warrior' that he was, I didn't really think he'd come 'round to yell at us for not taking his praise of Putin, 'hero of the European and Christian people', seriously. Still, I wasn't feeling too sure of myself, so I asked the hubs to come along with me this meet-up for moral, and, perhaps, physical support. A couple of other group regulars told me today that they would have 'up and left' had M. shown his face. Who could blame them?

The group was fairly large this time around. We were again a mix of regulars and a few new-comers. One of them was W., an 85-year-old German man who'd emigrated from Nuremberg in 1953. He was a young teen when Allied forces nearly destroyed the city. W. spoke in a slightly hurried fashion, his fränkisch-inflected German sometimes hard to follow. During the raids, his family hid in the bomb shelter in the basement of their building. He also made clear that the bombs being dropped were 'fire bombs'. At one point during the onslaught, the building next to his was completely destroyed. W. told me his father died in '44, but he didn't say how. During the funeral, casualties from the bombings were being brought into the cemetery. He told me of seeing a dead boy about his own age. Face frozen in shock & arms raised, the teenager's body had already undergone rigor mortis. 'I'll never forget it'. He also said to me that he had no idea why he was spared. I ventured with 'reines Glück' and he nodded.

W. heard a bit of what had transpired at the last meet-up with respect to M., the right extremist in water wings. His response was, and I'm paraphrasing, 'I give everyone the benefit of the doubt, and only after they prove themselves to be unworthy do I tell them to get lost.'

-sounds good to me, W., sounds good to me.

Integration through language acquisition is key.

During our short trip to CH & DE in November, my husband and I were fortunate to have spent time with dear friends, A. & N., who are currently engaged in helping Syrian refugees integrate into German society. They are a married couple, he is German by way of Syria & she is Swabian.

N. does translation work (some gratis and some paid) at court, with social services, and for the occasional doctor visit. A. helps run a city-sponsored, weekly Sprach Café (language group) at a local community center. She bakes cakes and other treats to go along with the coffee normally served. Both A. & N. assist in finding accommodation for the newly arrived, and, in some cases, employment. To hear my friends talk about it, they find the work not only rewarding but vital.

The concept of a Sprach Café intrigued me & I wondered if there were anything like that happening in areas of the US where newly-arrived refugees are living. Off the top of my head, I don't think we've any 'language cafes' running here in the Bay Area, or, if there are, I'm not privy to them. (More to the point, do we even have any Syrians asylum seekers in this part of the country?) Tying language learning with social engagement only makes sense. One has to get a sense of language used in context in order to successfully progress in language acquisition. The whole thing just seems like a great way to improve language skills while, hopefully, expanding one's social circle.

After visiting with A. & N., we spent some time in Basel, our favorite Swiss city. I found this wee flyer on the counter by the espresso machine at one of our old haunts, Frühling, in Kleinbasel.

It reads:

Do you want to improve your German, meet other people & get to know other cultures? If so, then come to our language cafe. We're looking forward to having you!

Every other Friday at Café Frühling...

It's good to know folk in Basel are also getting in on language support for those in need. The difference between what A. is involved with and what's happening at Frühling is that the Swiss effort is privately sponsored. I know this because I asked the gal making my espresso drinks ALL about the flyer. She explained that the Sprach Café is organized by two women who foot the bill for filter coffee for the 20 person+ group. -such a great idea. Honestly, I could have benefitted from one such group during my time in Zurich. There were a few language meet-ups around, but they were held at fairly busy pubs, and, often, it was just plain hard to hear what was being said. For a language practice group, a raucous bar environment just isn't ideal. I get that some of us language learners like a bit of 'liquid courage' when practicing a foreign tongue, but if you can't hear what's being said, then it all just amounts to a night out drinking.

Here's to those new arrivals finding their footing in German & Swiss German society. May their language acquisition be as enjoyable as possible! Viel Spass und viel Erfolg!

German club with a side of hate.

On Sunday, we had our monthly German club meeting. It was the first meeting since Trump was elected, and it was a full, rousing group. I sort of expected that no one would show up what with it being a holiday weekend here, but I was pleasantly surprised. Not only were a select group of regulars in attendance, but there were also a handful of newbies in the house. We were made up of a few native speakers & at least one young man, M., who only began learning German last year. Initially, he seemed friendly & receptive to whatever subjects were discussed. We covered the usual topics ranging from 'where you from?' & 'why German?' to 'how was your Thanksgiving?' 'so Trump was elected...' You know, it was typical, topical stuff. At one point, M. mentions having friends who are 'communists' & who meet at a 'communist cafe'. I happen to know the cafe in question & there's nothing 'red' about it, but I didn't say anything. Instead, I thought, Uh, okay. Weird. Then the subject changed & that was that. At another point in the convo M. says that he admires Putin and thinks he's a great leader. I laughed a bit & put my hand on his forearm in an 'ah, bless' kind of way before turning to talk to another person.

All seemed fine, in fact all seemed more than fine for the rest of the afternoon. A few of us stayed 'til the bitter end some three hours later, M. included. Before we disbanded to go on about our day, I recall getting a smile & a handshake from the Putin lover. 

Apparently, all was not fine as the website where our German group event is posted received a strange missive from M. It read: I thought it was a German language meetup, not nonstop Judeo-Marxian globalist propaganda brunch hour.

He followed up the note by posting a series of links to non-news internet sites typically associated with the paranoid, the hateful & the severely uninformed. I deleted the links.

I probably should have ignored M., but instead wrote that I was sorry he did not like our group & wished him well. M. then responded with the hateful, rabid-sounding mess below.

Why do you start badmouthing Vladimir Putin, and talking about how stupid white people are and we think all brown people are Muslims? You just assume everyone at the table is a brainwashed communist like you? Poor Muslims being oppressed and deported for being rapists and killers. Poor ISIS getting bombed by Putin. Your hero Obama created them. Another girl sits there and tells an Indian person the Electoral College exists to make brown people's votes not matter. The Electoral College was created before anyone other than white people was even legally allowed to vote. Vladimir Putin is a hero for the European and Christian people. God bless him and keep fighting the good fight against Muslim scum, who should be eradicated from our lands. Long live Donald Trump. Long live Putin. Long live NDP. Long live FPÖ. Long live sacred Europe. May all traitors one day feel the arm. Tschüss.

I sometimes forget that there are those who are not motivated by their love of Goethe & Schiller, Bach & Handel (or in my case, Neue Deutsche Welle & Tatort) to learn German. Sadly, in the case of M., a seemingly budding Pediga adherent & Trump supporter, we see other pursuits at hand. And none of them are welcome at our German club.

Das Hinterhaus revisited.

Ich lese gerade ein Buch, das ich neulich in Deutschland gekauft habe, von Journalistin und Autorin, Mirjam Pressler, die einen erweiterten Blick über die Lage der Familie Frank während des Dritten Reiches wirft. Das Buch 'ich sehne mich so' Die Lebensgeschichte der Anne Frank wurde erst 1992 in Deutschland veröffentlicht. Ob es eine englische Version gibt, bin ich mir nicht sicher.

Annes geteiltes Zimmer mit Herrn Pfeffer

Wir haben vermutlich in der Schule 'The Diary of Anne Frank' lesen müssen. Entweder damals in der Schule oder erst nachher, habe ich die Geschichte gelesen, aber das war schon eine Weile her. Mir wird nur das Oberflächliche über Anne Frank und ihre Familie im Kopf noch übrig.

Fakten: Anne und ihre Familie haben während des zweiten Weltkriegs in Amsterdam untertauchen müssen. Die Familie ist endlich von jemandem verraten worden und die Familie wurde von den Nazis erwischt. Nur Otto Frank, Annes Vater, hat die KZ-Zeit überlebt. Nach einigen Jahren hat Otto Frank erlaubt, dass Annes Tagebuch veröffentlicht wurde.

Vor ein paar Jahren habe ich in der Zeitung gelesen, dass die Geschichte, die Otto Frank publizieren liess, sei eine abgekürzte Version. Er wolle nicht unbedingt haben, dass die intimen Ausschnitte von Anne ein Publikum bekämen.

Pressler untersucht einige Nuancen der Geschichte. Annes Eltern kommen mir als völlig verwirklichte Menschen vor, die mit Schwach -und Starkpünkten (wie wir allen) geprägt waren. Ich erfahre, dass Otto und Edith Frank ein ganzes Jahr auf das Untertauchen vorbereitet haben. Wie haben sie vor ihren Töchtern die Pläne geheim gehalten? Leicht wäre das bestimmt nicht gewesen.

Die Familie Frank, die Familie van Pels und Fritz Pfeffer, ein Bekannte von denen, lebten zusammen im Hinterhaus zwei jahrelang, bevor sie verraten worden sind. Geholfen waren die Versteckte von sechs Niederländern. Eine von denen hiess Miep Gies. Mieps Erinnerungen werden oft in diesem Buch erwähnt. Ihre Erinnerungen helfen dem Leser teilweise verstehen, wie die Versteckte miteinander umgegangen sind.

Otto Franks Familie hat seit dem 16. Jahrhundert in Frankfurt gelebt. Sein Vater war erfolgreicher Kaufmann. Wie Otto stamm Edith auch aus einer wohlhabenden Familie in Deutschland. Vom Buch bekomme ich den Eindruck, dass Edith eine 'proper lady' waren. -gut erzogen, gut benehmend. Trotz guter Erziehung und genau weil die Bedingungen im Hinterhaus ziemlich unglücklich waren, hat Edith sich erlaubt, schlecht über Frau van Pels zu reden. So etwas wissen wir nur wegen Mieps Aussage. Miep hat mitgeteilt, wie schwierig es für Frau Frank gewesen sein müsse, wenn sie sich über anderen beklagen könne.

Anne war ein Mädchen wie so viele andere, die unter den Nazis ihr Leben sinnlos verloren hat. Nur weil Annes Tagebuch von Miep gehalten wurde, werden wir Leser heutzutage erlaubt, einen genaueren Blick auf ein normales Leben zu bekommen, das unter nicht normalen Bedingungen geführt wurde. Für diesen Blick bin ich Miep Gies und Otto Frank sehr dankbar. Für Presslers Buch bin auch extrem dankbar.

The fiction we present as fact.

• A comedian from the tough streets of Oakland.
• A folk singer & 'Irish son'.
• An age-old family vineyard.

It's all bullshit, but makes for good narrative.

Would the comedian be less funny if she were to let slip that she actually grew up in the boon docks of Mariposa, California?

Would the folk singer be any less authentic if he were to admit that he's just as much of German extraction as Irish?

Would the vineyard's grapes make inferior wine if it were true, instead, that the vineyard had only been in the family for five years and not generations?

Nope.

Thinking about the ruse that can be our personal narrative, I began to wonder what fibs I tell about myself to others that may shape a personal story that's more compelling, more authentic-sounding, if, however, actually less authentic.

If asked, I say that my maternal Grandma was Irish.  I don't usually also say that my Mom was adopted, so, technically, I'm not Irish.

I grew up in two quite different cities, but, depending upon the audience, I usually just pick one city to say that I'm from.

Of course, the only thing I'm 'selling' is myself.  -not music, not wine, not laughs.  Nobody is giving me money based on where I'm from or who my people were.  Although I did have an idiot boss once who thought he knew all about me based on my having lived for six measly months in his po-dunk hometown.  He thought I was some sort of trailer trash who was lucky enough to escape her fate.  I never cared enough about him to correct what he thought of me, frankly.

The story you tell about yourself to others-is it fictionalized fact?  Are we all 'guilty' of doing this?  It is normal?  Does it really matter?

All I know is that 'German son' might not read as well, but if the music is quality, then I'm buyin'.

It's drafty in here!

It was stuffy in the classroom, so an American colleague asked if he could open a window.  No one seemed to mind as he opened the large window behind our desks.  He then made plain why he had asked.  'Swiss people complain if there's a draft.  Even if it's a tiny one you'll hear es zieht! es zieht!'  He said all of this while making a sour face and waving his hand around the back of his neck.  As I watched him I thought, funny, that's what people say about the Germans!  I also thought that it was a bit rude of him to say that ALL Swiss have an inherent problem with drafts.  I don't think I'd ever make such a sweeping generalization about a people and, if I were to, I should think I would be wise enough not to do so right in front of them.  The window-opener then left the class for a moment in order to make a phone call.  I asked Renate, a Swiss woman sitting across from me, if it were true what the other person had said.  Renate shrugged and sagely said, 'I really think it depends on the individual.'  So the Swiss hate drafts, supposedly.  Apparently, people where I am from are all 'flakes'.  We say one thing, but do another.  You can't count on us Americans.  I've always bristled under this blanket of 'flakiness'.  Sure, some people make commitments they don't then keep, just as some people don't like a drafty room.  But we can't paint an entire people with the same brush, can we?

Two weeks ago, I attended a birthday party of another ex-pat.  There were folk from all over the globe in attendance.  The party language quickly became English and there were rousing talks about politics, healthcare and travel, among other usual ex-pat topics.  I brought up the subject of looking for work and how one should, in most cases, tailor one's CV according to the host culture.  My CV is currently in English and I asked the group if it would be better for me to 'germanize' it or just leave it as it is.  The position I am applying for would be for an English language native, so I thought perhaps leaving the CV in its original language made more sense.  An American acquaintance suggested that I translate my CV into German and offered to help me.  It must be said that I did not once solicit this person's expertize.  Not feeling too terribly confident with my own translating abilities, I accepted the offer of translation help.  A few days after the party I contacted this person and suggested we set a date to meet.  I also expressed heaps of gratitude and offers of booze, food, or what-not as 'payment' for this person's time.  A few more days went by and still there was no reply from this person.  I sent a follow-up 'hey, I sent you a mail' text.  Radio silence ensued and continues to be the norm.  Ah, well, I suppose I should not have actually believed that this person would help me because we Americans are 'total flakes'.  I hate it when a cultural stereotype proves to be true.

Say it in English

Vor einigen Tagen stand ich am SBB Schalter, um eine Fahrkarte nach Basel zu kaufen.  Das übliche wurde gesagt.  Zuerst kam die Begrüssung, danach die Wünsche.  So weit, so gut.  Beim Zahlen gab es ein Problem mit der EC Karte.  Anscheinend habe ich den monatlichen Abhebsbetrag (neues Wort erfunden?) schon erreicht.  Dann habe ich versucht, mit meiner einzigen Kreditkarte/Halbtax zu bezahlen.  -hat auch nicht funktioniert, weil ich dafür keinen Pin-Code habe.  Ich habe versucht, der Frau hinter dem Tresen zu erklären, dass die Karte auch 'swiped' werden könnte, aber das Wort dafür hatte ich nicht im Kopf.  'Say it in English' hat sie mir gesagt.  Trotzdem gab es keinen Stress, weil ich auch etwa Geld dabei hatte, obwohl ich es lieber behalten wollte, um in Basel einkaufen zu können.  Schlussendlich habe ich für die Fahrkarte mit Bargeld bezahlen müssen, weil ihre Kartemaschine nicht für 'swipe' Karten gemeint war.  Dann habe ich als kleinen Scherz gesagt, so etwas wie: manchmal ist es schwierig eine Ausländerin in der Schweiz zu sein.  Alles wurde mit einem grossen Lächeln und in einer übertriebenen Stimme gesprochen.  Als Antwort hat sie mir 'was Geschäftliches auf Englisch gesagt.  Ich habe sie dann weiter freundlich auf Deutsch gesprochen und sie mit mir auf Englisch, bis das Geschäft zu Ende kam.

Wenn ich kleine Päuschen im Deutschen mache (oder vielleicht völlig unlustige Witze mache) weil ich ein Wort auf Deutsch nicht weiss, bedeutet es nicht unbedingt, dass ich einen Satz nicht richtig formulieren kann.  -eher dass ich noch ein bisschen Zeit brauche, bevor der Satz richtig 'raus aus meinem Mund kommt.  Aber in diesen einigen, winzigen Sekunden der Ueberlegung wird mir oft gesagt: say it in English.  Ja, das könnte ich schon, aber es hilft mir eigentlich nicht.  Stell' dir vor: anstatt mich selbst zu fordern, in mehr als einfachen Sätzen auf Deutsch zu reden, kehre ich ständig ins English zurück.  Mein Gesprächspartner würde zwar mein Englisch verstehen, was alles leichter beim Gespräch machen würde, aber ich bleibe so unfähig im Deutschen als vorher und mein sprachlicher Fortschritt bleibt null.

Warum sprechen die Menschen lieber mit mir auf Englisch als auf Deutsch?  Ich würde sagen, dass die Schweizer in erster Linie hilfsbereit sind.  Wenn jemand kein Schweizerdeutsch spricht, dann möchten die Deutschschweizer doch schon beim Gespräch dem Menschen gegenüber helfen und mit denen auf Englisch, Französich, u.s.w. unterhalten.  Vielleicht liegt es auch teilweise daran, dass viele Menschen nicht unbedingt den Standard hören möchten.  Es ist egal, dass ich Deutsch mit einem leicht amerikanischen Akzent (oder genau wegen des Akzents!) rede, d.h. ich bin keine Deutsche, nervt es den Schweizern.  Mir wurde schon paar mal von den Einheimischen gesagt, dass der Standard zu sprechen (und zu zuhören) unerwünscht sei.  Klar finde ich das in Ordnung, weil wir schliesslich nicht in DE wohnen, sondern in der Deutschschweiz.  Als ich in die Schweiz ankam, habe ich irrtümlich gedacht, dass die Schweizer eine Variante des Schweizerdeutschen mit mir reden würden, während ich mich mit denen auf Hochdeutsch unterhalten würde.  Ganz simple, oder?  No.

Jemand hat mir empfohlen, einen Schweizerdeutschkurs zu machen.  Ich bin nicht total davon überzeugt, dass so etwas die Lösung wäre.  Vokabular ohne Kontext würde mir nicht so viel helfen als Gespräche zu führen.  Einfach brauche ich mehr Gelegenheiten, in denen ich mein Deutsch/Schweizerdeutsch üben kann.  Das heisst ich muss als erster Schritt unbedingt viel mehr Kontakt mit Menschen aufnehmen und nicht mehr so viel Zeit vorm Computer verbringen.

Words to live by!

'Taeschligate' and other misunderstandings.

'Ich habe sie sofort erkannt', erzählte die Trois Pommes Verkäuferin.

It would seem that at least one saleswoman in Zurich knows of Oprah Winfrey.  Winfrey, in town for Tina Turner's wedding this past summer, was recognised by a Trois Pommes employee, but, sadly, not the one who had allegedly refused to show her the desired handbag.  Little good being known would have done Winfrey, apparently, for the saleswoman went on to say:  

'Aber hier hätte sie sich eh nichts kaufen können, denn für diese Kleider ist Oprah Winfrey viel zu dick – ihre Grössen führen wir gar nicht!'

Winfrey would also not have been sold any articles of clothing at the retailer because she is 'too fat' and they don't stock her size.  Fair enough not to stock sizes for 'larger' women, I suppose, but aren't handbags one-size-fits-all?

Tina Turner and Oprah Winfrey

Living in Zurich, I have browsed in a few high-end shops along the Bahnhofstrasse.  After schlepping myself into these 'jet-setter' boutiques, I can tell you this: I may be white, but I am neither rich, nor excessively thin.  That means that I, too, would have been denied being shown a 35'000 CHF handbag.  A bit has been made in some articles I've read regarding the language around wanting to see the handbag.  Supposedly, Winfrey said she'd like 'to look' at the bag, while the saleswoman claimed to have asked Oprah if she'd like to be 'shown' the bag.  In English, 'to look' and 'to be shown' can mean the same thing.  I think the problem was simply one of not understanding what the other person meant.  This led to Winfrey being shown bags she had not asked to see, and, in turn, her feeling, perhaps, insulted.  In any case, the whole affair seems to be much ado about nothing.

Yesterday, on the recommendation of a colleague, I checked out a high-end jeweler in the heart of Zurich's ritzy shopping area, not far from where Ms. Winfrey was shopping.  The colleague told me that I might do well to speak English in the shop as it may signal that I was a 'somebody'.  I forgot to do so and instead spoke my supposed *'Dutch-inflected' Hochdeutsch with the jeweler.

I explained the problem: my wedding ring has a bit of a crimp in the crown that holds the gemstone thus making the whole thing look a bit slanted.  I'm keen on having it either be fixed or changed entirely.

Not only was the man not really listening to what I was saying regarding the ring, he went straight to the cost of the procedure by asking, 'How much are you willing to pay?'  I hadn't actually thought that far ahead.  I initially just wanted to know, if he could a) foresee doing anything creative and constructive with the ring and b) tell me if the ring, as it was, was structurally sound.  He told me that the ring's crown wasn't very sturdy, but he could straighten out the crimp and quoted a price that was slightly more than what I had paid to have the ring made.  In essence, the ring could be made to look nice, but the problem of its instability would remain.  For that I could expect to pay upwards of 500 CHF.  I would have perhaps been willing to pay the quoted price, but it seemed that the shop wasn't desperate for new clients.  For them, my business was probably 'small peanuts'.  I thanked the man for his time and left the shop.  Perhaps I misread the situation as Ms. Winfrey may have misread hers, but it's the vibe that counts, niet waar?

I now have a recommendation for a jeweler located at the far end of Kreis 7, away from downtown.  Fingers crossed that the interaction goes a bit better!

*People have often asked me if I were from the Netherlands because of how I speak German.  I take it as a compliment.

Language flubs

Here's a short and silly list of some of the dumb things I've said in German:

In general conversation
What I meant to say: I'm impressed!
What I said: I'm impressive!  

At work when speaking to customers
What I meant to say: Serve yourself!
What I said: Behave yourself!  

What I meant to say: It's spicy.
What I said: It's bland.  (Fortunately, that mistake was rectified before purchase.)

What I meant to say: One can sit at the window (gestures to window seating).
What I said: One can sit in the window (gestures to window seating).  I then imagined those poor customers trapped in the glass like a bug in amber. Oopsie!


Any of you out there in ex-pat land have any verbal gaffs that you'd like to contribute?

While waiting to be seen-a trip to the Frauenartz

The fact that I couldn't seem to manage opening the unlocked front door on my own should have been everybody's first clue that I, in fact, didn't have a clue.  After being let into the doctor's office, I proceeded to the counter and, smiling, began with an excuse of sorts: As you may have noticed this is my first time here.  I should have an 11 am appt. under 'Batz'.  That part went without a hitch.  I then produced my insurance card and partially filled out the personal information form handed to me by the pretty, young woman sitting behind the counter.  When I asked what to do about the questions I had left unanswered I was told not to worry as the important information would really only be address and insurance number.  -so far, so good in tackling my first ever gynecological exam on foreign soil (auf Deutsch).

After returning the form, I was asked if I would like to use the toilet.  Thinking that she meant that it would a good idea to evacuate my bladder before undergoing the exam, I said, yes.  The woman then unleashed a string of words that I could only somewhat follow.  -something about a cup and my surname written on it.  Huh?  I asked her if she would not mind repeating herself.  Correctly sussing out my puzzled expression, she then switched into Standard German and, as if it would help, substantially slowed down her speech.  'A-f-t-e-r y-o-u f-i-l-l t-h-e c-u-p...'  That did more to amuse me than help as my grasp of the Standard isn't too shabby in these situations, but I was grateful nonetheless.  I think I was more confused by the query as women back home do not give a urine sample before a routine exam, unless one is expressly checked for STDs.  (Later, I was told that women past the age of 40 are more at risk for certain types of conditions that can be detected through the testing of urine like diabetes.  -good lookin' out, doc!)  I went around the counter to find the toilet behind the 'narrow door on the right'.  Small, plastic cups that looked like they would pair well with a pony keg for tiny people stood at the sink.  I undid my trousers, then grabbed a cup, and turned around to crouch down over the toilet bowl.  Fortunately, I had consumed a coffee before arriving at the doctor's office and was ready to go, as it were.  Hovering over the toilet and half way through the stream I heard a whirring noise directly behind me.  I wasn't sure what it was, but felt the need to move away from the sound.  I was able to shift forward a bit while still holding the cup as it filled.  No problem, I thought.  Then I felt something push into the small of my back.  In response, I pitched forward just enough to spill part of the contents of the cup into the crotch and down the back leg of my trousers.  Yep, I had 'pissed my pants'.  Unfortunately, I had decided to wear light khaki-green trousers for the visit to the doc's.  Now, they appeared to be a bit 'camouflaged' in all the wrong places.  Having no choice but to button up and get on with it, I then moved toward the sink to wash my hands.  The toilet began to whirr again.  I turned around to watch as the seat slid around clockwise as a square-ish section of the back of the toilet slid forward at the same time and the seat, sort of, went through it.  It was a 'self-sanitizing' toilet.  Well, at least the darn thing is free from bits of urine.  That makes one of us.

Knowing I could not magically teleport my way home in order to change gear, I dried my hands and left the WC, making my way with labeled pee cup back up to the counter.  The same young assistant bade me to bring the urine sample over to what resembled a kitchen counter then asked me to sit on a plastic chair next to a scale.  In a few minutes she was back and had me step up on the scale to be weighed.  If this were anything like back home, then, any minute now, the assistant would blurt out how much I weighed.  Having gained something akin to the 'Freshman Five' since arriving in the Summer of 2012, I really didn't want to know.  Did the urine soaked into my pants and trousers add on any extra weight?  Surely my wooden clogs did.  I asked not to be told my weight and was met with a 'whatever, kooky foreigner' stare.  I tried to joke my way out of appearing nutty with a 'can't be bothered with knowing the number...ha ha', but that sort of anxious blather doesn't always translate too well.

Feeling a bit of a 'first timer' failure, I looked away from the woman who was then fitting me with the blood pressure apparatus all the while telling me what was to happen with the urine sample.  I wasn't listening.  She then asked if I were all right and I, by way of explaining my despondent mood, told her that I had spilled urine into my trousers.  As if this sort of thing happened with some regularity, she then said something like: Oh, it will dry!  Yeah, it might dry in god knows how long, but I'll still smell of urine.  Eau des Urine...trés, trés bonne!

All this excitement and I hadn't even seen the doctor yet!  I'll save the 'speculum adventure' for another post.

Watching TV in der Schweiz

Out of boredom, loneliness, and under the guise of improving my German, I watch A LOT of television.  Films, sit-coms, dramas, documentaries are all fair game.  Although I think that watching productions from German-language countries would be better than watching UK and US shows dubbed into German, I sometimes find myself dipping my toe into the tub of familiarity by watching well-worn re-runs from my home country.

Most of the shows from back home shown here are easily spotted.  Grey's Anatomy in der Schweiz becomes Grey's Anatomy: Die jungen Ärzte (the young doctors).  The German title is more of a mouthful, but not difficult to figure out.  How many seasons has Grey's been on TV?  They might need to change the name to: Grey's Anatomy: Die nicht mehr so jungen Ärzte simply for accuracy's sake.

A few shows, however, when translated back into English from their German names, either make little sense or are just plain funny.

90210

What Americans call the show: nine-oh-two-one-oh
What German speakers call the show: ninety/two-hundred-ten

Home Improvement

What Americans call the show: Home Improvement
What German speakers call the show: Listen to Who is Hammering There

Mean Girls

What Americans call the film: Mean Girls
What German speakers call the film: Commitments of a High School Diva

I would like to make clear that I do not watch either of the above television shows listed.  Well, I have not watched Home Improvement in about twenty years, or so, and I have caught the odd 90210 episode as it seems to be in syndication quite heavily back in the States.   I have not seen the film Mean Girls, although I hear it is probably the one vehicle for 'LiLo' that showed her acting chops.  I suppose I really should not be so choose-y when it comes to programs and regard it all, cheesy or not, as a German exercise.  So what's next in the TV watching queue?  I can't decide between a rousing episode of Hawaii Fünf-Null and the film 6 Tage 7 Nächte with Harrison Ford. Hmmm...I have no idea what the film 6 Tage 7 Nächte is in English.
So, Aloha?

Language accomodation

There was a new guy called Michael at my volunteer job today.  -a job, im grossen und ganzen, conducted primarily in German.  When I met Michael, I pronounced my first name in a distinctly American way, and that must've given him the green light to try out his crap English on me.

Rule #1: if my German sounds like it's better than your English, then I'll not be speaking to you in my native language.

I tried to abide by Rule #1 for the length of 'new guy' hanging about the clothes shop, but lapsed a bit when a punk from Detroit, yes, that Detroit, waltzed through the doors saying something like: Deutsch...sprek...nicht gut.  We immediately got to chatting about 'Homeland' security, travel, and the difficulties of becoming a dual nationale.

A little bit later, Michael needed to let me know that someone had taken a small stack of clothing 'coupons' from the main office and that we should be on the look-out for any coupon not possessing his signature at the bottom.  This information was communicated to me in piss-poor English to which I responded with: du kannst mit mir auf Deutsch reden.  When that request went unheeded, I 'amped' it up with the slightly annoying: wie bitte?  Ich versteh' kein Englisch.

As if to explain his behaviour, Michael told me that when he speaks to Germans, he uses Hochdeutsch, and when he speaks to Americans, Britons and the like, he uses English.   A Swiss friend of mine termed the tendency of German Swiss to switch from Swiss German into the language of the interlocutor 'accommodating'.  That logic doesn't take into account those native English speakers already possessing a fairly solid foundation of German.  What it does reinforce is the knowledge that standard German for German Swiss is almost as much of a foreign language for them as it is for me.  The main difference being that in present day America there are relatively few German language newspapers, if any, no TV stations broadcast from the Fatherland, and, if there were to be bilingual education, then, in my home state of California, the second language learned would be either Spanish or Mandarin.

While I understand that 'German German' may be considered a foreign language 'round these parts it does, unlike in America, feature fairly prominently within the culture.  German, with some exception, is the language of instruction, the language of print media, and, save for some Swiss German programing, much of what one hears on television.  These people grew up with German, in various forms, and I, as an American, did not.

I live in a place where standard German is spoken, not all the time, but one hears it.  I use German in order to navigate through my daily life here in Zurich.  My knowledge of German helps me make sense of the world around me.  I am lucky enough to understand a bit of Swiss German, and, on occasion, catch subtle humor, register mild upset and all sorts of other things that non-German speakers certainly would miss.  Mostly, I only speak English with other natives and foreigners not possessing German skills.  In order for me to feel like less of an outsider and to be able to communicate with folk who either do not or will not speak English (I do not assume that the Swiss should speak my language, we are not, after all, in America), then I feel I need to be linguistically savvy, so to speak.  If I had grown up watching Sesamstrasse instead of Sesame Street or had read the San Fransiskaner Tagesblatt instead of The San Francisco Chronicle, then, with German presumably more firmly entrenched in my head, maybe I'd be prepared to speak English with Michael and any other Swiss German who wish to 'accommodate' me. 

The Sesamstrasse Gang

Pizzaiolo

I hear smatterings of English just about everyday in Zurich.  I'm used to it, but the language still jumps out, somehow, louder than the Swiss German around me and my ears prick up.  Today, there was a man sitting a few seats from me on the tram who asked his seat mate if she spoke English.  She said that she did and he proceeded to ask her if she knew how many stops until Limmatplatz.  She answered fairly quickly, telling him it was about 8 stops from where we were.   Silently, I applauded her quick response, given that she was a non-native English speaker.  Then I wondered if I had heard his query correctly.  We weren't actually on a tram going anywhere near Limmatplatz, so, while her answer was well-executed, it wasn't actually correct.  Our tram ended at the main train station.  The man going to Limmatplatz would need to walk a short distance from the end station in order to catch a tram to his destination.  I had hoped that the woman would make this fact clear to the traveler, but she off-boarded shortly thereafter, not saying another word.  As our tram approached the end station, I could see a perplexed look growing on the man's face.  He was looking out the window with crinkled brow, as I stood up near him and asked where he was going.  'Limmatplatz', he said.

Pizzaiolo in Zermatt

I told him I'd take him to the tram he needed and said that we were fairly close to his final destination.  As we made our way to the correct tram, I made a bit of small talk.  'Where are you from?' I asked.  He told me that he didn't speak much English and spoke NO German.  He said he was on holiday here from Italy and that he might be looking for work.  'Swiss is good.  Italy, sorry, is shit.'  I would imagine that he was talking about the economy back home.  I asked him a rather pertinent question: how will you find work if you don't speak German?  'I'm Pizzaiolo', he said.  I'm in kitchen and don't need to speak.'  He smiled when he said this.  I smiled, too.  Good for him, I thought.  We arrived at his platform with only a minute to spare.  He purchased a tram ticket, we shook hands, and I wished him good luck.