Fun with German Words

This year I will have plenty to say about the German language. Every successfully completed sentence is an unbelievable linguistic accomplishment in it’s own right. Nonetheless, I’m really starting to realize how much one’s language reflexes and illuminates the culture that uses it. Tonight I want to highlight one of the most frustrating and yet truly extraordinary qualities of German: its spontaneous ability to create spectacular compound nouns. Admittedly some are a bit silly, but others express simple concepts using one word where we English-speakers would use several: an economic use of language that I find very German and of which I’m often quite jealous. I’m keeping a running list of the ones I encounter in my daily life, many just for fun while others somehow communicate something telling about German culture. Here’s a handful that I’ve collected so far, with my best attempt at translation:

Löschwassereinspeisung: “firefighting water supply input” - or simply a fire hydrant.

Aufenthaltsgenehmigung: “residence permit” - what we need to stay here for the year.

Kindererziehungszeiten: basically, the payment that parents receive for their time spent away from work during the first few years of child rearing.

Arbeitnehmerdatenschutzgesetz: “Employee Data Protection Act” - an important law since it seems many Germans are sensitive about giving up their personal data.

Bundesverfassungsgericht: “federal constitutional court” - we visited there in September and I guarantee that German legalese does wonders with ridiculously long words.

Geschwindigkeitsbegrenzung: “speed limit” - slow down when you try to pronounce it.

Verkehrsordnungswidrigkeit: when you break the above - a “traffic violation.”

Niederschlagswahrscheinlichkeit: “probability of precipitation” - in Berlin this time of year, that probability is quite high.

Meinungsverschiedenheiten: “differences of opinion” - something that Germans seem glad to cultivate in everyday discussions of the hottest topics.

Vergangenheitsbewältigung: “struggle to come to terms with the past” - a difficult word for Americans to pronounce perhaps, but communicates an even more difficult process that Germany continues to face even today.

Sicherheitsunbedenklichkeitsbescheinigung: Honestly describes what I had to go through to get my first job here - a “security harmlessness certification” or your basic security clearance.

I’ll periodically post some of the more memorable words I come across, and I think I’m going to post a poll on here soon so that you can vote on your favorite word so far, so stay tuned. I also invite you to practice saying these words out loud so that you can sprinkle them into your everyday conversations - at the dinner table with family, at the bar with friends, on the phone with business associates. At least you’ll get a good chuckle.

The Land of Toddlers

During any stay in Germany you may find yourself muttering under your breath, "What is this place...a country of preschoolers?!?" This reaction is likely in response to one of the following scenarios:

a) the German inability to line up respectfully

When it comes time to line up at a bus stop, at cultural events, or in a store, no rules govern German behavior. No wait, one rule does: the rule of self-preservation. Here's a brief picture of what you may encounter: There is the person who jockeys for position, sometimes resulting in the bodily harm of any unsuspecting victim whose elbows aren't out and on the ready. There is the person who simply breezes past the rest of humanity straight to the front, not noticing the looks of indignation in the crowd. (It should be noted that the only indignation appears to come from foreigners. I'm convinced the other Germans are just sorry they didn't think of the idea themselves.) Then there is the German (typically a woman) who says Entschuldigung (Excuse me!) as she's literally pushing you out of her way in her quest to get to the front. Don't be fooled by her smile. She doesn't mean it. You'll figure this out when she leaves a wake of children and grandmothers in her warpath of niceties to the head of the line.

Clearly they didn't practice forming lines, a regiment most Americans are intimately familiar with.

b) the unabashed staring

Germans stare and I mean seriously look you up and down. It doesn't matter if you catch them in their staring; even staring back may not deter them. Berlin cafe culture actually encourages this disarming habit. Almost all cafes have outdoor seating and inevitably all of the chairs on the sidewalk have been turned to face the street, meaning any pedestrian that walks by is on full display for the eager audience. And because Germans like to spend hours at a cafe sipping coffee (a habit I can get behind), you're likely to be stared at by the same people on your way back from whatever errand you just ran. And Heaven forbid, you go by in workout clothes. This provokes near snarling from the crowd as exercise gear is apparently not street-appropriate. From children to grandparents, staring is pervasive. Pretending to read your book will not work. Look up... yep, they're still staring.

Their mothers must not have taught them that it's not polite to stare. They should have.

c) the mass consumption of Apple Juice

You would not believe the amount of apple juice that is consumed in this nation. By adults. Apple juice, or more specifically Apfelschorle - a half and half mixture of apple juice and sparkling mineral water - is one of the most popular drinks in Germany. Wikipedia says (and if any of my students are reading this, this is not a justification of Wikipedia as a research tool) that Apfelschorle is "popular in summer and among athletes." Athletes? Really? Back to the point: where might you spot apple juice? In the handbag of the trendy German teen out with her friends. Being carried by the German construction worker on his way home from work. (Mind you, this is a 6-pack of liter bottles. That burly man must hit the juice hard.) On the menu of nearly every restaurant. At business meetings (where you have 3 options: coffee, water, apple juice). John and I are still taken aback by the practice. "They know it's apple juice, right? Has someone told them?"

And before you accuse me of being unfair, I've tasted it. It tastes like watered-down, fizzy apple juice. Just throw me some Cheerios, give me some crayons and I'll have fully reverted back to my daycare days.

Welcome to the Foreign Workplace

So at long last, after months of preparation, I began what I came here to do: work. I’ve now completed my first full week at my place of employment for the next two months, the Auswärtiges Amt (German Foreign Ministry, like our State Department). There will be much to tell in the coming months, but for now here are my first impressions from the German workplace:

Location. I postulate that the measure of a good bureaucracy can be determined by how huge and ridiculously confusing its building is. The Foreign Office is definitely a great bureaucracy. It is actually quite beautiful though, inside and out. Highlight: our building is equipped with elevator-type lifts called Paternosters which make simple travel to another floor an absolute thrill, not to mention efficient. And the building is quite historic - check out this short video about its history (really cool, I promise).

Language. I’ve spent months learning German and one week in a work environment demonstrates clearly how non-proficient I am. No, I’m perhaps being hard on myself: my real problem with personal-level interaction is self-confidence. However, as with any industry, there is a specialized and highly technical vocabulary that is required and nearly impossible to master outside of the workplace. Thus I must rapidly add to my vocabulary terms and concepts relating to ethnic conflict, post-conflict management, institutional reform, and the OSCE. The learning curve is indeed steep and sometimes I sit entire meetings without a clue about the topic, but nonetheless I feel my German is rapidly improving.

Formalities. I’d been warned for months about the critical need to use Sie (the formal version of you) when addressing coworkers at the office. This involves never using first names, addressing emails to “Highly Esteemed Mr. or Mrs. So-and-so,” and never letting my conversations drift into personal topics such as “how was your weekend?” So imagine my surprise when most of my coworkers offered me their first names, demanded that we speak in Du terms (the informal version of you), and on Friday asked about my plans for the weekend! This has been great and all, but does make for some awkward social moments: for example, at lunch the other day I was eating with some coworkers, one with whom I was on Du-terms and the other on Sie-terms. My brain suddenly started overheating when I realized that I would need to use different sentence constructions depending on the individual I was addressing. You can imagine my confusion and panic in trying to pose a question to them both together.

First-Week Etiquette. I had heard that it’s standard practice here to bring homemade baked goods to share during your first week of work, last week of work, and on your birthday. Not wanting to disappoint, I did. I “baked a cake with Lauren’s help” (which means I was tasked with measuring out the more simple ingredients and nervously watching as she baked) and brought it in to our morning meeting, at which point the director excitedly asked if it was my birthday. I replied that it was only my first week, and everyone of course understood. Fortunately my birthday has already passed.

Here comes the sun

It's a beautiful day in Berlin and my goal is to spend as much of it outside as possible. Although perfectly sunny it is rather chilly so I have come in to warm up and to wait on John, who is being dragged out to exercise this afternoon. I thought I'd continue to give you a glimpse into our life here, especially now that it has taken on a splendidly routine nature. It almost seems that we really live here.

This is our building from the courtyard. There are far too many stairs up to our apartment, but we both have great asses now, so I'm not complaining!

Empty today, this square will be entirely filled with the bi-weekly market tomorrow morning. We buy fruits and vegetables here regularly and can't seem to leave without stopping by the churro guy who sells his freshly fried churros for just a euro.

Our primary U-bahn stop; we have another one that is closer but a lot less pleasant to walk to. One of my favorite features of this U-bahn is the man who stands at the entrance most every day, playing a harmonica with one hand, while the other holds a boom box to his ear. The music from the stereo has little to no relevance to what he plays, but he plays with gusto, all the while dancing.

Looking back from the platform of the U-bahn this is the street. We walk through this area daily and I've even gotten to the point that I recognize people.

This is what happens when embroidery goes bad. I'd been working on what was to become a pillow this week only to have to undo nearly all of it. I'm sure there is a life lesson about recovering from setbacks somewhere in this experience, but I was just frustrated and cranky for a while. No worries, John and a good Italian dinner put me back in good spirits and I'm determined to try again.

Not at all about Germany

Whatever your politics, I think this is funny! Check out

this video.

Hope you're having a fabulous day, folks!

A Reunification with a Happy Ending

Saturday was the Day of German Unity, which celebrates the Wiedervereinigung (reunification) of Germany in 1990. Not coincidentally, the live-action giant puppet show that Lauren wrote about previously reached its dramatic climax on Saturday as the little giant was reunited with her long-lost uncle.

Wanting to be a part of the action, Lauren and I spent the afternoon with several hundred thousand Germans on the grand promenade between the Brandenburg Gate and the Siegessäule (Victory Column). Per usual, the afternoon was spent eating sausage, drinking beer, and watching the giants walk toward each other at the Brandenburg Gate for their historically allegorical rendezvous.

Here is a video of the uncle, all decked out in his old fashioned scuba gear, walking toward the Brandenburg Gate. As Lauren also noted, the work of the puppet crew is perhaps the most fascinating aspect of this whole process. I also enjoyed that there's a live band being dragged along behind the giant.

The uncle sits and waits on the west side of the Brandenburg Gate as the little giant approaches from the east side. Wearing her raincoat, of course!

Once the two reunited, they hugged and then started dancing. No joke, the uncle here is doing the moonwalk to Thriller. Some impressive puppetry, I say.

Finally, the two giants are now sitting together, chatting and catching up on lost years (at least, in my imagination). They remained seated like this overnight, until they walked off happily toward the west together in the morning. Their reunification is now complete. Ah, but is Germany's? I will perhaps need to save that issue for another post.

And what are you going to do, Lauren?

Well today, folks, I chased a giant puppet in Berlin.

(Let me apologize in advance for the layout of this post. Blogger and I are in a major fight, and I think Blogger just came out on top.)

Filling my time while we are in Germany is going to be something of a challenge, so I've been trying to take every opportunity to get out of the apartment and see new things. Today (and yesterday) I partook in a theatrical "performance" called Die Riesen Kommen (The Giants Arrive). Yesterday supposedly "strange things" would be happening in parts of the city. It turned out these so-called strange things were as follows:

A geyser bursting from the concrete at Schlossplatz and an anchor stuck in the ground in front of the Brandenburg Gate.

Honestly, not as strange as I had hoped.

So I headed out again this morning a bit wary of what might await me. I arrived at the Red Rathaus (near Alexanderplatz) to discover a growing crowd of expectant Germans waiting in front of a giant sleeping puppet. I joined the masses and anxiously expected the start of the show.

(Once things started happening they happened entirely in French, so the following commentary is a mere assumption about what is actually happening.)

The Little Giantess was sleeping in Berlin across from her boat (not pictured because the crazy man in front of me kept putting up his camera exactly when I did.)

The children in front of me passed the time by couting down from ten for at least 15 minutes, in hopes that the puppet would awake. It never worked, but it did help me work on my numbers.

Finally, the Little Giantess awoke only to be immediately soaked by a fake rain shower (which was entirely unnecessary as it was actually raining throughout this part of the performance.)

After a good soaking, she was more appropriately dressed by her puppeteers in a fetching yellow slicker and then she walked right up to the Berlin mayor to deliver a letter, which contained the picture of her uncle, for whom she is looking. The mayor welcomed her to Berlin and may or may not have offered his help. Because he spoke in German, I can't be sure.

Then she was hoisted into the air and set down on her boat, which was being hauled around by a massive 18-wheeler. All throughout the performance, a band was rocking out behind her on their own trailer and a woman was narrating her story (in French, of course).

She road the boat around the Rathaus with throngs of people running, shoving, and stopping abruptly (to take pictures) around her. Along the way she creepily blinked, opened and shut her mouth and looked from side to side. Apparently the Little Giantess doesn't have much to say.

You would not believe the yoga-esque bending and squatting I did in an attempt to capture both the puppet and the TV tower. I may have toppled more than a few Germans as I practically laid on the ground trying to get this picture (and still I couldn't get it). That thing is crazy tall.

She's still just riding that boat.

After her circuit around the Rathaus, she paused, hopped off the boat and proceeded to walk a second time around the building. I missed much of the change-over to perambulating because I was distracted by a little cutie, shivering pitifully on the ground next to me.

It took a cadre of people to make this girl move. These men were literally throwing their body weight against her strings to lift her legs. You know, it takes a village...

Here is the Little Giantess leaving the Rathaus for a more exciting walk through Berlin. I didn't stay much beyond this because it was drizzling, ridiculously cold, and I hadn't had coffee yet.

Two further things to note, before I leave you though. As I'm standing watching the puppet, something nudged my leg. What was it, you ask. Another adorable dog, begging me to steal/save it from its hapless owner. I could have taken the owner of this one, no problem.

Look at that face! (I am in serious Lucy-withdrawal.)

Finally, I decide to go, when all of a sudden the puppet show stops, the team strips the Little Giantess of her rain coat (which, by the way she probably still needed) and she proceeded to do some light stretching there in the street. Here she is, doing some squats:

That's more squats than I've done lately.

My honest assessment of the performance is that it's really strange, bordering on scary-movie material. However, the mechanics of the performance are remarkable, the music is interesting and the crowds are all smiles and laughter (an unusual site in Berlin). Definitely worth the near-frozen state of my fingers.

John and I plan to go tomorrow to watch the continuation of the drama - a meeting between the Little Giantess and her uncle, who will be emerging from some body of water in the city, donning his scuba gear.

While perhaps not the most productive day, it was interesting. Now back to Tolstoy and the epic life of Anna Karenin!