Being German must be pretty serious business. I feel like I sometimes stand out like a sore thumb because, being an American, I grin a lot. It's not always sincere, but when I make eye contact with someone I'm passing on one of the many walking paths around here, or do the awkward "shopping cart dance" with an fellow shopper in the grocery store, I tend to at least pull a half-smile. If someone would let me in front of him in line because he has a cartful and I have just a loaf of bread (granted, that's unlikely to happen here, but still), I'd smile and say "Danke." But I've noticed that few Germans smile at strangers.
Germans are friendly, but in a distant sort of way. They nod at each other or greet each other when passing with a "Morgen" ("[Good] morning") or "Hallo", but they save their smiles for their close friends and family. We Americans have the reputation of being quite friendly and open, and part of that is probably due to the fact that we grin and smile a lot. We smile at strangers, dogs, babies, flowers, and sometimes at nothing at all. This comes across as friendly and happy to some, but vacuous to others. Do we have that much to smile about, or is it just a habit - like asking "How are you?" just as part of a greeting rather than a sincere inquiry?
Every Wednesday morning, as I wrote earlier, a bakery truck comes to our street. Every Wednesday the same 3 or 4 of us neighborhood women gather at the truck to make our purchases. These women, as well as the baker, are friendly, nice, and chatty. As we inhale the aroma of fresh bread and rolls, we talk about the weather, some strange goings-on in the neighborhood, and where someone is who usually comes to the bakery truck. There's plenty of chatter as we exchange pleasantries, but I'm the only one who's smiling. I feel like a feeble-minded dolt - while the others are grumbling about the cold, I'm grinning pleasantly because...there's fresh bakery at my door!!!
I'm learning that one can be pleasant without flashing the whitened pearlies all the time. For those who are not used to this, perhaps it looks like German people - especially the older generations - are unhappy. That's not it. They just save their smiles for times when there's something really worth smiling about. It's not too unlike our American use of the word "love" vs. the German use of "lieben". We Americans love our parents, our children, our friends, our country, puppies, swimming, chocolate, sunsets, Christmas, our new laptop, a certain football team, lots of movies, and sometimes our job. Germans love their parents, children, and spouses. They enjoy swimming, they like puppies, they do their jobs, they watch movies, and they appreciate sunsets. They reserve "loving" for the people who truly invoke that feeling. I like that! I hope my children don't feel the same about chocolate as they do about me... My American bestie and I say "I love and miss you" when we write, but I would never say "Ich liebe dich" to a German friend.
Come to think of it, there's another German phrase that relays the affection one feels for those still in one's inner circle but beyond the parents, children, and spouse: "Ich habe dich gern." That means, if literally translated, "I have you gladly". The intent is, "I like you a lot." The Germans don't throw that phrase around lightly either, though - there is genuine deep affection attached to that phrase.
Our closest friends here - Martin's former landlords - are absolutely the exception to the "being German is serious business" thing. Granted, we're friends, but I think they are friends and friendly with everybody. I can't help but smile when I see them, in part because there are just not that many people I recognize around here, but more because they are some of the friendliest, most out-going and fun people I know. They are ever-ready with smiles, warm greetings, and invitations to join them for a birthday or garden party whenever there's one upcoming.
But back to smiling at strangers. To me, a greeting and a smile go together. I've been trying to learn the German way for the purpose of blending in, but I actually have to concentrate. It's simply a pleasant but emotionless greeting - shouldn't be all that difficult. Ok, here comes a German man toward me on the sidewalk. He's a generation older than I am, and walking an unmanly-sized dog. If he were walking a collie, I wouldn't be able to restrain myself, but I don't like little dogs and so there's no danger of it bringing on a smile. They keep approaching, I keep walking - same side of the street. Since he's over 60 he's not staring into his Smartphone, but actually looking up. He gets closer, I keep walking, and remind myself to leave my facial expression as it is - which is actually expressionless. Just then he looks directly at me, and as I am about to deliver my rehearsed and grinless "Morgen" (not "Morgen!"), he beats me to it. He nods, and says "Morgen" barely parting his lips. BAM! That damn smile is there before I can stifle it. "Morgen!" I say as I flash him my friendly American grin. Ugh.
I'll try again tomorrow.
Wednesday, September 11, 2013
Friday, August 30, 2013
Coming Home
I have noticed that I use the word "home" quite a lot, and a casual listener might be rather confused since I have several different places I refer to as "home". So I've been thinking often about what home is, what it means, and where it is.
A funny incident happened at the Stuttgart airport a few weeks ago as the Sheboygan and Esslingen students were checking in at the Delta counter for our flight to Wisconsin, which illustrates how the term "home" can lead to confusion. The six Sheboygan students and their chaperone had just finished their three weeks in Esslingen, and the six Esslingen students and I were joining them on the flight back to spend three weeks in Wisconsin. During those silly security questions one is asked before flying into the U.S., one of the Sheboygan students was asked where he packed his suitcase. He said, "At home." The interrogator asked if he was from Germany, and the lad said, "No, from America." "Then what do you mean you packed your suitcase 'at home'?" inquired the confused woman. "Oh," the lad said, "I meant at my German home." I thought that was precious - after only three weeks, this American boy was already referring to his host family's home as "home".
In my 44 years of life I have lived in thirteen places, including an Air Force base apartment, several houses, a host family's home, a college dorm, a duplex, and a condo. Martin, in contrast, has lived in four. Although he is just one example, Germans do tend to move around less frequently than Americans. We are both fairly certain that the count stops here, because our next planned move is to a grassy plot in the churchyard several blocks away.
Since I've moved here, I have referred to returning to Wisconsin as "going home" several times. That doesn't feel right, because my home is here now. As soon as I arrive in Wisconsin, "home" is Bildechingen. Sometimes, though, "home" is my parents' house, where I stay while in Wisconsin. I might be running errands with my mom when she asks, "Do you want to stop at Kohl's?" "No," I say, "Let's just go home and get dinner started." My parents live in a house that was never my home because I never lived there (they moved out of my childhood home about 13 years ago), and yet one definition of "home" for me is where my parents live.
I'd say my hometown is Sheboygan, Wisconsin, because I grew up there. I spent seventeen of my adult years in Fond du Lac, Wisconsin, but now that I have left, I do not feel that town is "home".
So what is "home"?
"Home is where the heart is."
Yeah, ok. Too sappy for me. My heart is occasionally buried deep in the Zwiebelrostbraten I'm eating, which is too delicious for description.
"Home is the nicest word there is." ~Laura Ingalls Wilder
For many people, maybe. Not so for many, many others.
"Home is a place where, when you have to go there, they have to take you in." ~Robert Frost, "The Death of the Hired Man"
There's great truth in that one, though again, I don't think it fits as a universal definition.
Perhaps it is just not that easy to define. Some say that home is the people we love. In her novel, What Happened to Goodbye, Sarah Dessen wrote, "“Home wasn't a set house, or a single town on a map. It was wherever the people who loved you were, whenever you were together. Not a place, but a moment, and then another, building on each other like bricks to create a solid shelter that you take with you for your entire life, wherever you may go.” " I've never read that or any other book by Dessen, but the definition seems appropriate to an extent. However, my parents have a cottage in northern Wisconsin where the immediate and extended family has gathered many times and we've made lots of memories, but I've never called it "home".
In the end, I'd have to say that "home" for me is where I feel I belong. Where I am most comfortable, where the coffee tastes just right, where the bed is the most comfortable, and where love and gratitude thrive. That, for me, is here in Bildechingen. I appreciate the time I get to spend with family and friends in Wisconsin, the coffee is fine, the bed is comfortable enough, and there is definitely gratitude and love. But after several trips this year - even day trips to Esslingen - I know that this is my home. I love the view I have of Horb as the train pulls into the station (it's the background image of my blog), and I can't help but grin at the warm fuzzy feeling every time I return. This is our house, our garden, our street, and our town. And our home.
A funny incident happened at the Stuttgart airport a few weeks ago as the Sheboygan and Esslingen students were checking in at the Delta counter for our flight to Wisconsin, which illustrates how the term "home" can lead to confusion. The six Sheboygan students and their chaperone had just finished their three weeks in Esslingen, and the six Esslingen students and I were joining them on the flight back to spend three weeks in Wisconsin. During those silly security questions one is asked before flying into the U.S., one of the Sheboygan students was asked where he packed his suitcase. He said, "At home." The interrogator asked if he was from Germany, and the lad said, "No, from America." "Then what do you mean you packed your suitcase 'at home'?" inquired the confused woman. "Oh," the lad said, "I meant at my German home." I thought that was precious - after only three weeks, this American boy was already referring to his host family's home as "home".
In my 44 years of life I have lived in thirteen places, including an Air Force base apartment, several houses, a host family's home, a college dorm, a duplex, and a condo. Martin, in contrast, has lived in four. Although he is just one example, Germans do tend to move around less frequently than Americans. We are both fairly certain that the count stops here, because our next planned move is to a grassy plot in the churchyard several blocks away.
Since I've moved here, I have referred to returning to Wisconsin as "going home" several times. That doesn't feel right, because my home is here now. As soon as I arrive in Wisconsin, "home" is Bildechingen. Sometimes, though, "home" is my parents' house, where I stay while in Wisconsin. I might be running errands with my mom when she asks, "Do you want to stop at Kohl's?" "No," I say, "Let's just go home and get dinner started." My parents live in a house that was never my home because I never lived there (they moved out of my childhood home about 13 years ago), and yet one definition of "home" for me is where my parents live.
I'd say my hometown is Sheboygan, Wisconsin, because I grew up there. I spent seventeen of my adult years in Fond du Lac, Wisconsin, but now that I have left, I do not feel that town is "home".
So what is "home"?
"Home is where the heart is."
Yeah, ok. Too sappy for me. My heart is occasionally buried deep in the Zwiebelrostbraten I'm eating, which is too delicious for description.
"Home is the nicest word there is." ~Laura Ingalls Wilder
For many people, maybe. Not so for many, many others.
"Home is a place where, when you have to go there, they have to take you in." ~Robert Frost, "The Death of the Hired Man"
There's great truth in that one, though again, I don't think it fits as a universal definition.
Perhaps it is just not that easy to define. Some say that home is the people we love. In her novel, What Happened to Goodbye, Sarah Dessen wrote, "“Home wasn't a set house, or a single town on a map. It was wherever the people who loved you were, whenever you were together. Not a place, but a moment, and then another, building on each other like bricks to create a solid shelter that you take with you for your entire life, wherever you may go.” " I've never read that or any other book by Dessen, but the definition seems appropriate to an extent. However, my parents have a cottage in northern Wisconsin where the immediate and extended family has gathered many times and we've made lots of memories, but I've never called it "home".
In the end, I'd have to say that "home" for me is where I feel I belong. Where I am most comfortable, where the coffee tastes just right, where the bed is the most comfortable, and where love and gratitude thrive. That, for me, is here in Bildechingen. I appreciate the time I get to spend with family and friends in Wisconsin, the coffee is fine, the bed is comfortable enough, and there is definitely gratitude and love. But after several trips this year - even day trips to Esslingen - I know that this is my home. I love the view I have of Horb as the train pulls into the station (it's the background image of my blog), and I can't help but grin at the warm fuzzy feeling every time I return. This is our house, our garden, our street, and our town. And our home.
August Pause/Break
I should have posted this earlier, but for anyone who has been wondering if I have given up on my blog, I have not. I was in Wisconsin for three weeks as a chaperone to six fabulous middle-school students from Esslingen, who took part in the People to People Sheboygan(-Esslingen) Chapter short-stay exchange program. I was busy with activities with this group, catching up with friends, spending time with family, and doing a little bit of shopping. I didn't really have time to write, though I gathered a lot of material for future posts.
Right now I am working on recovering from jet lag and trying to fight the strong urge to lie down and nap (so far in two days I have failed four times at that), but soon I'll have another post. It shouldn't be more than a few days.
Right now I am working on recovering from jet lag and trying to fight the strong urge to lie down and nap (so far in two days I have failed four times at that), but soon I'll have another post. It shouldn't be more than a few days.
Friday, August 2, 2013
Rolladen
Today is projected to be the hottest day of the summer in Germany, at least so far. It will get up to 36° (98.6° F) with high humidity. Many are heading to a beach, river, lake, Schwimmbad, or local fountain to cool off, some are filling blow-up pools in their yards, and others toughing it out and going about their regular business.
Central air in public places (including stores, restaurants, and movie theaters) and in homes is not common here, so going shopping on a beastly hot day can be a rather miserable experience for someone like me who hates shopping even when it's a comfortable temperature. So today, I'm pulling a Hemingway and staying home, inside, in the dark, alone.
In our former house in Wisconsin, a day like this would be awful inside without the central air running. The heat permeated through every window and wall of the house. But our house here is made mainly of concrete, and the temperature inside takes longer to change. Granted, it does get very stuffy when the windows are closed, which is why even in the chilliest part of winter we need to turn off the heat and open all the windows for 10 minutes or so to move the air around every few days.
But this blog post is about Rolladen.
These things are amazing. Judging from the movie "The Holiday," rich people in California have these on their windows, but I never knew anyone in Wisconsin who had them. "Rolladen" translates to simply "shutters," but they are so much more than the shutters I knew of in Wisconsin, which were decorative rather than functional. These puppies roll down from a hidden pocket in the wall above the window and close out as much light as I want to. If I want to leave room for some air to get in, I close it most of the way, leaving an inch or so of space at the bottom, which also leaves cracks open between the slats. If I need to sleep in the middle of the day, I can close the Rolladen all the way and make the bedroom dark as a catacomb.
All of our windows have these, so on a day like today, I have closed all of them on the east, west, and south sides of the house, and every room is - at least for the moment - a very comfortable temperature. It's not too warm, and not at all too cold. I swear, the heat and humidity in Wisconsin feels even worse than it is because so many places are chilled like an ice box with air conditioning. I can't go anywhere on the hottest day in Sheboygan without bringing a sweatshirt along, because I feel like a bag of shock-frozen peas when I step through the front doors of a store, restaurant, or friend's house.
I think the body deals better with consistency than extreme and sudden changes. The Germans are convinced of this. Many, many times I have heard Germans say that they frequently get sick in the States in the hot summer, which they attribute to constantly going out into the heat, back into an icebox...out into the heat, back into an icebox. Just today on the morning news show, people were being interviewed and asked how they will deal with the heat. One woman said it's best to drink warm liquids like tea and coffee because it's less of a shock to the body, and drinking cold beverages makes one sweat more in the heat. I don't know if that's true, but that may very well be why American tourists often say that the beer (and soda) in Germany is served warm. It's not warm - it's just not chilled to the degree that it is in the U.S..
So anyway, I'll stay inside and relax today (I cleaned the house yesterday, so I don't even have any chores to do except for garden work, which doesn't sound tempting at the moment). I'm keeping the lights off, too, because they produce enough heat to defeat the purpose of keeping the Rolladen down. I might watch a movie if I can figure out how to turn on the darn system, which has 6 components and 12 remotes...
I'd read, but it's too dark.
Central air in public places (including stores, restaurants, and movie theaters) and in homes is not common here, so going shopping on a beastly hot day can be a rather miserable experience for someone like me who hates shopping even when it's a comfortable temperature. So today, I'm pulling a Hemingway and staying home, inside, in the dark, alone.
In our former house in Wisconsin, a day like this would be awful inside without the central air running. The heat permeated through every window and wall of the house. But our house here is made mainly of concrete, and the temperature inside takes longer to change. Granted, it does get very stuffy when the windows are closed, which is why even in the chilliest part of winter we need to turn off the heat and open all the windows for 10 minutes or so to move the air around every few days.
But this blog post is about Rolladen.
 |
| If not for the Rolladen, the sun would be heating the bedroom like a sauna |
These things are amazing. Judging from the movie "The Holiday," rich people in California have these on their windows, but I never knew anyone in Wisconsin who had them. "Rolladen" translates to simply "shutters," but they are so much more than the shutters I knew of in Wisconsin, which were decorative rather than functional. These puppies roll down from a hidden pocket in the wall above the window and close out as much light as I want to. If I want to leave room for some air to get in, I close it most of the way, leaving an inch or so of space at the bottom, which also leaves cracks open between the slats. If I need to sleep in the middle of the day, I can close the Rolladen all the way and make the bedroom dark as a catacomb.
 |
| In the living room a little air can get through, but there's not much moving today anyway. |
All of our windows have these, so on a day like today, I have closed all of them on the east, west, and south sides of the house, and every room is - at least for the moment - a very comfortable temperature. It's not too warm, and not at all too cold. I swear, the heat and humidity in Wisconsin feels even worse than it is because so many places are chilled like an ice box with air conditioning. I can't go anywhere on the hottest day in Sheboygan without bringing a sweatshirt along, because I feel like a bag of shock-frozen peas when I step through the front doors of a store, restaurant, or friend's house.
I think the body deals better with consistency than extreme and sudden changes. The Germans are convinced of this. Many, many times I have heard Germans say that they frequently get sick in the States in the hot summer, which they attribute to constantly going out into the heat, back into an icebox...out into the heat, back into an icebox. Just today on the morning news show, people were being interviewed and asked how they will deal with the heat. One woman said it's best to drink warm liquids like tea and coffee because it's less of a shock to the body, and drinking cold beverages makes one sweat more in the heat. I don't know if that's true, but that may very well be why American tourists often say that the beer (and soda) in Germany is served warm. It's not warm - it's just not chilled to the degree that it is in the U.S..
So anyway, I'll stay inside and relax today (I cleaned the house yesterday, so I don't even have any chores to do except for garden work, which doesn't sound tempting at the moment). I'm keeping the lights off, too, because they produce enough heat to defeat the purpose of keeping the Rolladen down. I might watch a movie if I can figure out how to turn on the darn system, which has 6 components and 12 remotes...
I'd read, but it's too dark.
Wednesday, July 31, 2013
Fantastic German Words I, or Eight German Words that are the Hammer!
If you have spent any amount of time getting up close and personal with the German language, you will have met - and sometimes been bowled over by - some truly brilliant expressions and words that you awkwardly try to drag into your own language, dropping them on occasion to find your people looking at you askance and questioning your apparent loss of communication skills. There are just some words that are too good to be cached and squirreled away by German speakers, only to be used and understood among them.
Yes, yes, we've all heard of Schadenfreude, Wanderlust, Doppelgänger, and Gesundheit, and it's good those words have burrowed into and taken up residence in the English language. But why stop there? Following are words I would offer up as candidates for regular use around the world. The direct translations are funny enough to try out in casual conversation, so go ahead!
By the way, things in Germany that are REALLY COOL are described as "the Hammer":
"Have you seen the new James Bond movie? It's the Hammer!"
"I met the new English teacher yesterday. She's the Hammer!"
1. Strohwitwer (Straw widower)
A Strohwitwer is a man whose wife is gone for a few days - visiting family, on a tour with friends, or staying with her mother-in-law because she lives in a bigger and more interesting town with lots of shopping possibilities (ähm...Esslingen).
Martin: "Dirk's wife will be in Hungary, and you'll be in Wisconsin. We'll both be straw widowers."
2. Drachenfutter (Dragon fodder)
When a German husband stays out too late, comes home drunk, and/or invites his boss, his wife, and their children over for dinner before talking to his wife about it, he better head to town to find some Drachenfutter. This is a gift (or several) which is a usually humble and often poor attempt at making peace and winning back his wife's affections. Just its name would be enough to make me seethe. So you screwed up, and I am the dragon?? But since Martin knows that the only thing that works with me is a sincere apology and I think he's only screwed up twice in his blameless life anyway, I find the word cute - and probably appropriate for some women.
Hans: "Have a nice evening. Heading home?"
Franz: "No, if I want to have a nice evening, I first need to go to Breuninger's for some dragon fodder."
Hans: "Well, good luck to you, then."
3. Feierabend (Celebration evening)
This is quittin' time in Germany. At the end of the work day, colleagues say "[Schönen] Feierabend!" ("[Have a nice] celebration evening!") You might only be going home to re-heat last night's leftover frozen pizza, pop open a beer, and watch reruns of Tatort, but what's not to celebrate? At least you're not working.
Gudrun: "Celebration evening!"
Joachim: "Same to you!"
4. Eselsbrücke (Donkey bridge)
Now isn't that more clever than "mnemonic device", which I just had to look up and check three times to spell correctly? An Eselsbrücke is any little trick or hint we use to remember something we don't want to forget. I use donkey bridges a lot to remember genders in German:
der Tisch: a table is masculine because it's hard and unemotional, like a man.
die Milch: milk is feminine because milk comes from female mammals.
das Radler: I don't have a donkey bridge for that, which is why I keep thinking it's der (masculine).
I actually did use this term - in English - with my American students, and it started catching on with some of them.
5. schlaftrunken (sleep drunk)
This does not mean what you think it means. It has nothing to do with alcohol or its regretable side effects. This is an adjective to describe how I feel in the morning before I've had two cups of coffee and a chance to sit somewhere in silence, waking up slowly without the encouragement of other humans. My brain isn't working quite right yet, my eyes feel fuzzy, I'm trying in vain to remember the disturbing details of that crazy dream I was having yet wondering why I'm bothering, and emails from friends and family back in the States that arrived while I was sleeping don't make any sense. The effect becomes amplified if I was jolted out of a dead sleep by the doorbell or the telephone.
"I went to the door at 8:00 Saturday morning totally sleep drunk and expecting an emergency, and I opened it to find a pair of Jehovah's Witnesses who wanted to talk about the afterlife. I was tempted to send them to it."
6. Unverschämtheit (Unshamedness)
This, as you can see, is a noun. There are clearer English words to use here (such as "impudence"), but I wanted you to get the full effect of the emphasis of utter lack of shame or good sense. Shame seems to be important in Germany, and there are many German words with "Scham" as their root. Calling someone's action an Unverschämtheit is saying that the person committing the deed clearly has no regard for protocol or the Moral Code whatsoever.
Martin (while driving past a busy, open, and operating semi-automatic carwash facility on a Sunday afternoon):
"Washing their cars on the Lord's all-holy Sunday?? What a godforsaken unshamedness!"
7. Zweisamkeit (Twogetherness)
Yes, that's right - not "TOgetherness," but "TWOgetherness." This only works to label the comradery of two people, not three or ten. It's a gorgeous word, don't you think? It carries a bit of a sad tone with me, since Einsamkeit means loneliness or solitude! But if there are two of you, at least you're not totally alone, and there's also something cozy about the idea of two lonely people finding a connection with each other.
8. Kummerspeck (Sorrow bacon)
The Americans have the term "comfort food" for the junk we eat when we are feeling down, lonely, or out of sorts. The Germans have a word for what our bodies accumulate as a result of eating comfort food. Sorrow bacon is the extra fat we (especially women) put on, mainly on our waists and thighs, from eating unhealthy crap because we're dissatisfied with something in our lives. I think "Kummerspeckkummer" might be the distress we feel when we look at ourselves after we have accumulated the Kummerspeck from eating the comfort food.
There are just too many fantastic German words for one blog post. To be continued...
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