Showing posts with label Germany. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Germany. Show all posts
Thursday, August 27, 2009
Tuesday, February 15, 2005
Top 10 phrases in Germany and the UK
Time to donn your English or German accents. Please note E before the word for English accent, or G for German. Have fun. We did.
10. (E) "Oh bother!" Now really, why don't we Americans say that instead of "darn" or whatever. It's too much fun.
9. (E) "Come on now! I don't have time to play!" Exclaimed by our driver when she couldn't find the entry way to into a Hilton parking lot.
8. (E) "I'll just pop over to the caf for a cup of tea." Pop seems to be their favorite verb in the UK.
7. (E) "Do the lorries drive fast on the motorways in the US?" The only reason we enjoyed this one, was that it was so early in the morning, Schroomie #2 thought the driver meant girls named Lori. She responded, "most everyone drives about the speed limit."
6. (E) "Hob." What's a hob? A stove top.
5. (G) "Schmuck." Yes, that's right, schmuck. I laughed and laughed. It means jewelry. I got even more tickled when I thought, "With this schmuck, I thee wed." Hehehehehe. Can you see what a dork I am? Schmuck.
4. (G) "Schnitzel." For previously named reasons.
3. (E) "There's Windsor castle." Okay...I forgot to say that we saw Windsor Castle from the motorway, and I didn't really have 10 words or phrases, so I figured it ought to fit in somewhere.
2. (E) "Sleeping policeman." What we rather boringly call in the US, a speedbump.
1. (G) "Ausfarht." So I think like an 8 year old boy. But this word for "exit" we saw a gazillion times on the Audubon (which, did I mention, is simply a motorway? Not like the Volkswagen commercials. False advertising). Pronounce it phonetically and see why I giggled like the big dork that I am. =) Sorry if I offended anyone.
10. (E) "Oh bother!" Now really, why don't we Americans say that instead of "darn" or whatever. It's too much fun.
9. (E) "Come on now! I don't have time to play!" Exclaimed by our driver when she couldn't find the entry way to into a Hilton parking lot.
8. (E) "I'll just pop over to the caf for a cup of tea." Pop seems to be their favorite verb in the UK.
7. (E) "Do the lorries drive fast on the motorways in the US?" The only reason we enjoyed this one, was that it was so early in the morning, Schroomie #2 thought the driver meant girls named Lori. She responded, "most everyone drives about the speed limit."
6. (E) "Hob." What's a hob? A stove top.
5. (G) "Schmuck." Yes, that's right, schmuck. I laughed and laughed. It means jewelry. I got even more tickled when I thought, "With this schmuck, I thee wed." Hehehehehe. Can you see what a dork I am? Schmuck.
4. (G) "Schnitzel." For previously named reasons.
3. (E) "There's Windsor castle." Okay...I forgot to say that we saw Windsor Castle from the motorway, and I didn't really have 10 words or phrases, so I figured it ought to fit in somewhere.
2. (E) "Sleeping policeman." What we rather boringly call in the US, a speedbump.
1. (G) "Ausfarht." So I think like an 8 year old boy. But this word for "exit" we saw a gazillion times on the Audubon (which, did I mention, is simply a motorway? Not like the Volkswagen commercials. False advertising). Pronounce it phonetically and see why I giggled like the big dork that I am. =) Sorry if I offended anyone.
Friday, February 11, 2005
Schnitzel's and Hasselhoff
So at our very awkward (but on-time) German breakfast, we noticed some odd decorations around the small room. We shrugged our shoulders and figured there must have been a party the night before. When we returned a few days later, and saw adults and children alike dressed for Halloween, it dawned on me what weekend it was. Carnaval.
Yesterday was Ash Wednesday, the beginning of Lent--when the Catholic world gives up all the good stuff (in theory) for the forty days leading up to Easter. So historically--they did all the sinful stuff they could on the Tuesday before Ash Wednesday, to sort of get it out of their system. Hence the wild parties of Mardi Gras and Carnaval.
After several years in Portugal, I'm used to the Carnaval partying that begins the Friday before Ash Wednesday--one day isn't enough time for so much fun, now is it? It's the equivalent to our Halloween: people dress up, lots of pranks are played, and I'm sure evil abounds that I don't see. I got belted with plenty a water balloon the year I decided to stay in Lisbon for Carnaval--a mistake I won't make again.
But because I've studied church history, I don't think of Germany as Catholic. A little ole monk named Martin Luther brought about some changes once upon a time. So I didn't expect Carnaval. And yet there it was. Women walking down the street dressed like little red devils. Children with their faces painted. Carloads of men ready for the big futebol match. And all the restaurants decorated for parties. Everything else--everything--closed.
So Schroomie and I on our last night decide we would like to eat a truly German meal. We get to directs to the boothaus (Boathouse) restaurant situated quaintly right on the Rhine. Perfect! We think. We walk forever to the boothaus, only to discover it is closed. We walk along the Rhine (Loren, I thought of you!), and then headed back to town, hoping some restaurant would be open. Alas, if it wasn't, we'd already stocked up on Gummi bears, peanut butter, and Dr. Pepper. Truly the meal of the American princesses, right? Ha.
We arrive back in town, and find a restaurant right next to our Gasthaus. We see all the decorations, and think, "They're having a private party." We stood in the doorway, trying to figure out if we were allowed in or not. A woman assured us, "No party! Come in! Come in!" We sat at our table (next to a replica of Michaelangelo's David, modestly covered in all the right places, and with streamers hanging from his shoulders), and smiled at our waiter.
Our menu was in German. About 20 different varieties of schnitzel. But what exactly is schnitzel and how are the 20 varieties of it different? We saw one that said something about spaghetti. One said Hawaiian (when all fails, go with what you know: ham and pineapple!). One said wiener schnitzel art. That sounds interesting. Finally our waiter figured out that we didn't know German, and tried his best to explain each one. He was amazed that I knew Hawaiian meant it had pineapple. We Americans...we're so crafty!
So we ordered--I can't remember what mine what called, but it was basically schnitzel cordon bleu. Now here's the thing. What do you picture when you hear schnitzel? I picture a big fat German sausage shaped like a pretzel. (Why like a pretzel? Because the last four letters are the same in both words, and that's how my brain works.) I was wrong. Were you?
A schnitzel is basically chicken fried pork. For those you not from the South, pork that is breaded and fried. Certainly not a sausage. Certainly not shaped like a pretzel.
When our salad came, I looked to schroomie and said, "How many Euros do you have?" She froze. "None. How many do you have?" I responded, "I don't have any Euros. I have the pounds, dollars, and some Turkish lira. Do you think they take visa?" We found out they did not. Looks like we were about to be washing our schnitzel plates! We prayed there would be an ATM in this nowhere town, and that it would be working this Carnaval weekend. Lucky for us, God answered our prayers.
We ate our schnitzel's in peace.
We decided to watch the telly in our room once we'd finished our meal, since we don't have one in Turkey. We found the local futebol game and watched that for a while. But the team from Mainz (where we were staying) was being WHOOPED, and that made us feel blue, so we changed the channel. We found MTV, and they were playing a show of the worst videos ever made. Seriously. The only video we could watch, because we were laughing too hard to change the channel--David Hasselhoff singing "Crazy For You." (Not the Madonna song, but his very own). I don't know if one of you computer people can find it, but it's worth searching for on the web. It's gotta be the funniest thing I've watched in months. Oh yeah. It's the only thing I've watched in months.
Yesterday was Ash Wednesday, the beginning of Lent--when the Catholic world gives up all the good stuff (in theory) for the forty days leading up to Easter. So historically--they did all the sinful stuff they could on the Tuesday before Ash Wednesday, to sort of get it out of their system. Hence the wild parties of Mardi Gras and Carnaval.
After several years in Portugal, I'm used to the Carnaval partying that begins the Friday before Ash Wednesday--one day isn't enough time for so much fun, now is it? It's the equivalent to our Halloween: people dress up, lots of pranks are played, and I'm sure evil abounds that I don't see. I got belted with plenty a water balloon the year I decided to stay in Lisbon for Carnaval--a mistake I won't make again.
But because I've studied church history, I don't think of Germany as Catholic. A little ole monk named Martin Luther brought about some changes once upon a time. So I didn't expect Carnaval. And yet there it was. Women walking down the street dressed like little red devils. Children with their faces painted. Carloads of men ready for the big futebol match. And all the restaurants decorated for parties. Everything else--everything--closed.
So Schroomie and I on our last night decide we would like to eat a truly German meal. We get to directs to the boothaus (Boathouse) restaurant situated quaintly right on the Rhine. Perfect! We think. We walk forever to the boothaus, only to discover it is closed. We walk along the Rhine (Loren, I thought of you!), and then headed back to town, hoping some restaurant would be open. Alas, if it wasn't, we'd already stocked up on Gummi bears, peanut butter, and Dr. Pepper. Truly the meal of the American princesses, right? Ha.
We arrive back in town, and find a restaurant right next to our Gasthaus. We see all the decorations, and think, "They're having a private party." We stood in the doorway, trying to figure out if we were allowed in or not. A woman assured us, "No party! Come in! Come in!" We sat at our table (next to a replica of Michaelangelo's David, modestly covered in all the right places, and with streamers hanging from his shoulders), and smiled at our waiter.
Our menu was in German. About 20 different varieties of schnitzel. But what exactly is schnitzel and how are the 20 varieties of it different? We saw one that said something about spaghetti. One said Hawaiian (when all fails, go with what you know: ham and pineapple!). One said wiener schnitzel art. That sounds interesting. Finally our waiter figured out that we didn't know German, and tried his best to explain each one. He was amazed that I knew Hawaiian meant it had pineapple. We Americans...we're so crafty!
So we ordered--I can't remember what mine what called, but it was basically schnitzel cordon bleu. Now here's the thing. What do you picture when you hear schnitzel? I picture a big fat German sausage shaped like a pretzel. (Why like a pretzel? Because the last four letters are the same in both words, and that's how my brain works.) I was wrong. Were you?
A schnitzel is basically chicken fried pork. For those you not from the South, pork that is breaded and fried. Certainly not a sausage. Certainly not shaped like a pretzel.
When our salad came, I looked to schroomie and said, "How many Euros do you have?" She froze. "None. How many do you have?" I responded, "I don't have any Euros. I have the pounds, dollars, and some Turkish lira. Do you think they take visa?" We found out they did not. Looks like we were about to be washing our schnitzel plates! We prayed there would be an ATM in this nowhere town, and that it would be working this Carnaval weekend. Lucky for us, God answered our prayers.
We ate our schnitzel's in peace.
We decided to watch the telly in our room once we'd finished our meal, since we don't have one in Turkey. We found the local futebol game and watched that for a while. But the team from Mainz (where we were staying) was being WHOOPED, and that made us feel blue, so we changed the channel. We found MTV, and they were playing a show of the worst videos ever made. Seriously. The only video we could watch, because we were laughing too hard to change the channel--David Hasselhoff singing "Crazy For You." (Not the Madonna song, but his very own). I don't know if one of you computer people can find it, but it's worth searching for on the web. It's gotta be the funniest thing I've watched in months. Oh yeah. It's the only thing I've watched in months.
Tuesday, February 08, 2005
My German Cultural Faux Paux
I don't like stereotyping. In fact, with a Masters in Intercultural Studies, I ought to steer very clear of stereotyping. I appreciate the broadstroked differences we've all been created with. I don't like being put in a box, and so I try not to put anyone else in one. Don't want to cause unnecessary claustrophobia.
So my German cultural faux paux will begin with my first error--stereotyping. I'd heard Germans are, how to say it nicely? Sticklers for rules. And I broke several. Therefore I put them into that stereotyped box in my head. Forgive me.
We were checked into our quaint little Gasthaus a mere five minutes when we realized we would freeze with only the thin blanket on our beds. Granted--it was a down comforter. But there was snow on the ground outside, and there might as well have been frost on the inside of our windows, it was cold! So we crept back up to the front desk and asked if we could have more blankets. Anyone who knows me knows, if it's not 200 degress--I'm freezing!
They bring us more blankets and explain that it is already very hot in our room, we could turn the heater up more, we have down comforters, and well...Here are your extra blankets (with a German huff). We thanked them and then crawled into our very warm beds.
What a night of sleep we had! We slept so well that we overslept in the morning, and missed the breakfast the Gasthaus manager had arranged for us at 9am. I went out a bit later and asked him if there was any way to get coffee.
"No! I told you, breakfast is at 9. Where were you?"
I blanched. The American in me ruffled my feathers and wanted to respond, "What does it matter where I was? It's my right to oversleep in your hotel. I paid to oversleep. I paid for the breakfast--whether I ate it or not. I don't have to answer to you." But I did not say such things. I apologized and said we would be there for breakfast the next morning.
A few minutes later, I left the Gasthaus to go find some coffee. Schroomie #2 and I had a plan. She would stay inside, have her quiet time, and come meet me at the shop across the street in an hour. Therefore she would lock up. So I went without the key. I left the gated Gasthaus to find the coffee shop closed. Obviously Germans don't drink coffee any ole time of the day. I walked up and down the street, not wanting to go too far and have Schroomie lost looking for me.
Then it hit me. I didn't have the key to get back in. Nor a phone to call her to let me back in. I dropped my head down, my shoulders slumped, and I dragged myself back over to the gate. I buzzed the bell, and a German voice said something.
"Hi. I'm the American staying..." The gate buzzed me in. I took two steps into the driveway when the manager came out with his hands on his hips.
"I told you to take your key with you! We are not here all day to let you in and out!"
"I know. I'm sorry." I didn't bother explaining what had happened but just skirted out of his path of anger as quickly as possible. I did all that I could to avoid him for the next two days--as well as any other faux paux to tick him off.
Well...Schroomie #2 got her own chance. Right before we were leaving for the airport mid-week (we'd be returning and staying one more night there before our return to Istanbul), we asked if we should take our key with us or pick it up when we return. He didn't seem to care at all what we did, as long as we paid--before 10am on Saturday. Our plane didn't even land until after noon! We finally arranged for our colleague to pay for us, and we'd pay him back. But again, breakfast must be important to the Germans.
"What time will you be breakfasting on Sunday?" We explained that we had an early flight, and could breakfast be ready at 7am? The manager then proceeds to scrunch up his face in such a manner to inform us that, no, 7am was not an acceptable time for breakfast on a Sunday. He explained that he could put meats out the night before, but there would be no bread or coffee. Well, I'm sorry. But what good is meat and cheese with no bread to put it on? And what is breakfast without coffee? This whole silly conversation was making us late for the airport as it was. I think we said "Whatever you want to do is fine."
And we did our best to avoid the Gasthaus manager at all costs when we returned. You'd think I'd have learned to behave more culturally appropriate than that, but I guess not.
So my German cultural faux paux will begin with my first error--stereotyping. I'd heard Germans are, how to say it nicely? Sticklers for rules. And I broke several. Therefore I put them into that stereotyped box in my head. Forgive me.
We were checked into our quaint little Gasthaus a mere five minutes when we realized we would freeze with only the thin blanket on our beds. Granted--it was a down comforter. But there was snow on the ground outside, and there might as well have been frost on the inside of our windows, it was cold! So we crept back up to the front desk and asked if we could have more blankets. Anyone who knows me knows, if it's not 200 degress--I'm freezing!
They bring us more blankets and explain that it is already very hot in our room, we could turn the heater up more, we have down comforters, and well...Here are your extra blankets (with a German huff). We thanked them and then crawled into our very warm beds.
What a night of sleep we had! We slept so well that we overslept in the morning, and missed the breakfast the Gasthaus manager had arranged for us at 9am. I went out a bit later and asked him if there was any way to get coffee.
"No! I told you, breakfast is at 9. Where were you?"
I blanched. The American in me ruffled my feathers and wanted to respond, "What does it matter where I was? It's my right to oversleep in your hotel. I paid to oversleep. I paid for the breakfast--whether I ate it or not. I don't have to answer to you." But I did not say such things. I apologized and said we would be there for breakfast the next morning.
A few minutes later, I left the Gasthaus to go find some coffee. Schroomie #2 and I had a plan. She would stay inside, have her quiet time, and come meet me at the shop across the street in an hour. Therefore she would lock up. So I went without the key. I left the gated Gasthaus to find the coffee shop closed. Obviously Germans don't drink coffee any ole time of the day. I walked up and down the street, not wanting to go too far and have Schroomie lost looking for me.
Then it hit me. I didn't have the key to get back in. Nor a phone to call her to let me back in. I dropped my head down, my shoulders slumped, and I dragged myself back over to the gate. I buzzed the bell, and a German voice said something.
"Hi. I'm the American staying..." The gate buzzed me in. I took two steps into the driveway when the manager came out with his hands on his hips.
"I told you to take your key with you! We are not here all day to let you in and out!"
"I know. I'm sorry." I didn't bother explaining what had happened but just skirted out of his path of anger as quickly as possible. I did all that I could to avoid him for the next two days--as well as any other faux paux to tick him off.
Well...Schroomie #2 got her own chance. Right before we were leaving for the airport mid-week (we'd be returning and staying one more night there before our return to Istanbul), we asked if we should take our key with us or pick it up when we return. He didn't seem to care at all what we did, as long as we paid--before 10am on Saturday. Our plane didn't even land until after noon! We finally arranged for our colleague to pay for us, and we'd pay him back. But again, breakfast must be important to the Germans.
"What time will you be breakfasting on Sunday?" We explained that we had an early flight, and could breakfast be ready at 7am? The manager then proceeds to scrunch up his face in such a manner to inform us that, no, 7am was not an acceptable time for breakfast on a Sunday. He explained that he could put meats out the night before, but there would be no bread or coffee. Well, I'm sorry. But what good is meat and cheese with no bread to put it on? And what is breakfast without coffee? This whole silly conversation was making us late for the airport as it was. I think we said "Whatever you want to do is fine."
And we did our best to avoid the Gasthaus manager at all costs when we returned. You'd think I'd have learned to behave more culturally appropriate than that, but I guess not.
Tuesday, February 01, 2005
Random Thoughts on Germany
I will write quickly and randomly, as I only have a minute. Germany--Ahhhh...
I first noticed that I was no longer in Turkey when I realized how quiet is was. I've not heard the call to prayer, or honking, or the chai man in nearly 48 hours. Last night was the best night sleep I've experienced in at least 7 weeks, if not longer!
I made two cultural faux paux in the span of about one hour at my Gasthaus (guest house). More on those later... There is a ceramic gnome in the backyard outside our window--just as I imagined it should be.
There is peanut butter in the grocery store--guess what I will spend all my Euro's on?
I am currently in Mainz, outside Frankfurt. Will someone PLEASE help me remember the connect Mainz has to Martin Luther? Feel free to post a comment if you know.
Tomorrow we will ride on the Autobahn for three hours one way! Woo-hoo! I'll let you know how fast we go. =)
And for those who are curious, we are getting alot of work done, it's been a very informative trip. I'd forgotten how much conducting ethnographic research can tire out the brain!
Until the next time I can post...
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