I will admit that I earned straight A's in the equivalent of three semesters of high school German. Further, I will admit that I did quite well in another three semesters of German courses at Pacific Lutheran University. Additionally, I will admit that I spent January of 2003 in German-speaking countries. Lastly, I will admit that my German is very poor. In the time that I have been in Magdeburg my language skills have improved significantly, but not so much as to avoid awkward misunderstandings and funny looks. Here are a few of my "lost in translation" experiences.
Early in my stay here, I tried to mail a post card to my pals at the Wild Wonders Outdoor Theater in Tacoma. When I got to the post office I first thought I was a complete moron because I could not figure out how to open the door to get into the post office. Noticing my puzzlement, a lady behind the glass doors started calling something to me in German. She was yelling through the door "Zu! Zu!" As far as I knew, "zu" was a preposition meaning "to" (as in, Suzanne failed TO send the post card). Later I remembered that "zu" also is a word for "closed" (as in, Suzanne stop trying to open the door, the post office is CLOSED!) And that is why WWOT zookeepers have yet to receive their post card.
Another mistake I made that was more from cultural confusion than a language barrier happened after I learned that Germans shake hands all the time. Every morning when employees arrive at work, they shake hands; kids meeting on the tram shake hands, and sometimes people shake hands when they say goodbye. Americans have a very limited number of situations where hand-shaking is encouraged, so I had trouble knowing when to extend my hand to anyone. To add to the confusion, there are some Germans who don't like the tradition of shaking hands and will not offer a handshake, and there are some who know enough about America to know that culturally we do not shake hands every day and they will NOT offer to shake my hand. So one day when I was leaving the zoo after spending the day with a very kind keeper and he extended his hand, saying something very quickly in German, I shook his hand. He repeated the sentence and extended his hand again. That time, I paid better attention and understood that he was telling me I needed to return my keys...NOT trying to shake my hand. Oops.
Sometimes the mistakes are not from failure to understand the actual words, but from a failure to understand the meaning behind them. When I went to sign the contract for my new apartment, the agent attempted to make small talk with me IN ENGLISH. His English was not good. In German the word "do" isn't used as often as in English whereas the word for "make" is used more often. For instance if you want to know what someone's career is, you might ask literally, "What do you make?" Even though I knew this, the difference led to some slight confusion because the agent asked me in English, "What do you make at the zoo?" wanting to know what I DID at the zoo. I, having forgotten that the German agent might not understand the difference, answered, "About 2,000 Euro per month." Not what he was looking for.
I have even had a problem or two with the language when I am not speaking with anyone. In stores, I have to stare at the ingredients on containers of food for what probably seems like an inordinate amount of time to discern what the items actually are. Pictures on the boxes of food really help. I mostly have made good decisions regarding my edible purchases and can even read menus no problem. However, last week in an attempt to buy butter, I accidentally purchased what turned out to be a block of squishy, grey YEAST, which does not taste anything like butter. At all.
Lastly (just lastly for this post, not lastly overall, as I'm sure to make many further ridiculous errors with language), when another zookeeper asked me what kinds of wild cats I had previously cared for, I meant to say I cared for a lynx, but I am fairly certain that the word I actually said was "hole." Yes, earlier in my career, I used to care for...a hole.
Sunday, December 14, 2008
Sunday, December 7, 2008
Weihnachtsmarkt
In Germany around Christmas time, all the children get glassy-eyed and wistful thinking about a man and his reindeer magically gliding through the air and all the adults get glassy-eyed and wistful from wintertime drinks and festivities. To celebrate the season, every German town has its own Christmas market. When it was still the middle of November, unidentified little wooden buildings began appearing near my tram stop. They looked like little houses with fake snow on the roofs and real fir trees arranged beside them.
Each day more tiny houses appeared until finally on the 24th of November, Magdeburg's Christmas market began. Actually, since the market butts right up against my tram stop, I pretty much just stepped off the tram after work that day and was already at the market. So of course, I went. All of the little houses now had their front walls rolled up to expose displays of handmade candles, blown-glass ornaments, and homegrown fruits. Some of the little houses transformed into booths where children played games in hopes of winning silly prizes like Sponge Bob in a santa hat or Max and Moritz cell phone carriers. The whole town square shone with white lights, a huge tree stood in front of the (former) city hall, and Christmas music floated in from some unknown location. The statue of Otto von Guerike frowned down at the carusel, pony rides and a booth selling gemstones.
I searched for gifts for my friends and family among the crowds of people who were getting loud and merry from the specially stewed warm wine and eggnog concoctions. Around half the booths were selling food and drinks, making the whole square smell heavenly. Grills sizzled with bratwurst in more varieties than one would think possible, and a couple of booths offered some type of mushroom dishes. The Germans upheld their reputation for creating fantastic chocolate: they sold it by itself, drizzled over fruit, in heart shapes, on sticks, with nougat, nuts, or marzipan, in Christmas shapes, and any combination of the aforementioned.
The temperature was below freezing that evening, but with all the ovens fired up, the lights burning brightly and the closely packed Germans kicking off the holiday season together, I didn't feel chilly at all. On my way out of the market, I couldn't help but sample the goods from at least one of the booths contributing to the aroma. I chose the very last booth, which was selling something called schmaltzballkuchen (yeah, try to order THAT over the din of Bing Crosby, a game of balloon darts and a hot grill). I didn't even know what it was, but the smell from the booth suggested something sweet and warm. The woman in this little wooden house handed me a large paper cone filled with puffy balls of fried dough she had doused in powdered sugar. Mmmm...God bless her.
Each day more tiny houses appeared until finally on the 24th of November, Magdeburg's Christmas market began. Actually, since the market butts right up against my tram stop, I pretty much just stepped off the tram after work that day and was already at the market. So of course, I went. All of the little houses now had their front walls rolled up to expose displays of handmade candles, blown-glass ornaments, and homegrown fruits. Some of the little houses transformed into booths where children played games in hopes of winning silly prizes like Sponge Bob in a santa hat or Max and Moritz cell phone carriers. The whole town square shone with white lights, a huge tree stood in front of the (former) city hall, and Christmas music floated in from some unknown location. The statue of Otto von Guerike frowned down at the carusel, pony rides and a booth selling gemstones.
I searched for gifts for my friends and family among the crowds of people who were getting loud and merry from the specially stewed warm wine and eggnog concoctions. Around half the booths were selling food and drinks, making the whole square smell heavenly. Grills sizzled with bratwurst in more varieties than one would think possible, and a couple of booths offered some type of mushroom dishes. The Germans upheld their reputation for creating fantastic chocolate: they sold it by itself, drizzled over fruit, in heart shapes, on sticks, with nougat, nuts, or marzipan, in Christmas shapes, and any combination of the aforementioned.
The temperature was below freezing that evening, but with all the ovens fired up, the lights burning brightly and the closely packed Germans kicking off the holiday season together, I didn't feel chilly at all. On my way out of the market, I couldn't help but sample the goods from at least one of the booths contributing to the aroma. I chose the very last booth, which was selling something called schmaltzballkuchen (yeah, try to order THAT over the din of Bing Crosby, a game of balloon darts and a hot grill). I didn't even know what it was, but the smell from the booth suggested something sweet and warm. The woman in this little wooden house handed me a large paper cone filled with puffy balls of fried dough she had doused in powdered sugar. Mmmm...God bless her.
Monday, December 1, 2008
Snippets
1.) I told my first joke in German. Usually my translating is too slow or my grammar is too poor to say anything witty. But yesterday a keeper showed me the red-footed tortoise enclosure, and I noticed what appeared to be an avian nest-box about seven feet up the wire mesh wall. I pointed at it and said (in German of course), "Kinda hard for the tortoises to use that, isn't it?" See, it's funny because tortoises can't climb or use nest boxes...Right.
2.) Every radio station I have heard in Germany--in cafes, in zookeeper kitchens, at the Christmas market--plays music in English. The DJs still speak in German, but very rarely have I heard a song with German lyrics. The funniest part about these stations is that their draw comes solely from the fact that they play music in English, so it has nothing to do with the actual merit or genre of the music. In one set of songs I heard first the theme from "Ghost Busters" (appropo of nothing, since it wasn't Halloween), then the Temptations song from the 60's "The Way You Do the Things You Do," followed by the latest single from American Idol's newest flash in the pan. Also, I have never heard so much Phil Collins.
3.) I feel as thought the keepers I have been meeting have gotten exponentially harder to understand. First I worked with keepers who spoke slowly and clearly. Then I worked with keepers who spoke quickly and mumbled. This week I discovered the challenges of communicating with a keeper who has a speech impediment. No kidding.
4.) My homesickness is better, but I still have days where I wish for a little more familiarity. One day last week I was on break with the keepers and one of them cleared her throat. Suddenly I missed my mom. My mom has a very individualized throat-clearing "ahem," and somehow Frau Driechciarz's (yeah, say that even ONE time quickly...) throat-clearing sounded close enough that it made me think of my mom.
5.) When referring to me in conversation, the zoo employees don't know what to call me. In German it is friendlier to call co-workers by their first names and address them using the informal grammatical structure. At the same time, it is often very impolite to use someone's first name if you don't know them well. If you can read my blog, you already know that English has no corresponding rule. None of the keepers know what to call me. To avoid being discourteous when saying things like, "I'm taking Suzanne with me today" or being stand-offish and saying, "I'm taking Frau Akerman with me today," the keepers instead refer to me as "die kleine Amerikanerin" sometimes. Literally this translates to "the little American." I will overhear, "Let the little American do that, you go muck the zebra stalls" or "The little American and I are done with the giraffees for the day."
6.) Some of the German keepers are interested in hearing me speak in English or in learning English words, and this is a great opportunity to create some comeraderie. This week I had the whole department roaring with laughter about the English word "squeegee."
A few quotes from my days here in Germany:
"She doesn't talk with a potato in her mouth!" An administrative assistant at the zoo (in German). She explained that native-German speakers make fun of American accents by saying we talk like we all have hot potatoes in our mouths.
"Your accent strong, but I unnerstand, so good job anyway," waiter with a faux-hawk (in English). Thanks, dude.
"Is it....a crocodile?" Four-year-old Paul (in German) when I drew him an ANT-EATER!
2.) Every radio station I have heard in Germany--in cafes, in zookeeper kitchens, at the Christmas market--plays music in English. The DJs still speak in German, but very rarely have I heard a song with German lyrics. The funniest part about these stations is that their draw comes solely from the fact that they play music in English, so it has nothing to do with the actual merit or genre of the music. In one set of songs I heard first the theme from "Ghost Busters" (appropo of nothing, since it wasn't Halloween), then the Temptations song from the 60's "The Way You Do the Things You Do," followed by the latest single from American Idol's newest flash in the pan. Also, I have never heard so much Phil Collins.
3.) I feel as thought the keepers I have been meeting have gotten exponentially harder to understand. First I worked with keepers who spoke slowly and clearly. Then I worked with keepers who spoke quickly and mumbled. This week I discovered the challenges of communicating with a keeper who has a speech impediment. No kidding.
4.) My homesickness is better, but I still have days where I wish for a little more familiarity. One day last week I was on break with the keepers and one of them cleared her throat. Suddenly I missed my mom. My mom has a very individualized throat-clearing "ahem," and somehow Frau Driechciarz's (yeah, say that even ONE time quickly...) throat-clearing sounded close enough that it made me think of my mom.
5.) When referring to me in conversation, the zoo employees don't know what to call me. In German it is friendlier to call co-workers by their first names and address them using the informal grammatical structure. At the same time, it is often very impolite to use someone's first name if you don't know them well. If you can read my blog, you already know that English has no corresponding rule. None of the keepers know what to call me. To avoid being discourteous when saying things like, "I'm taking Suzanne with me today" or being stand-offish and saying, "I'm taking Frau Akerman with me today," the keepers instead refer to me as "die kleine Amerikanerin" sometimes. Literally this translates to "the little American." I will overhear, "Let the little American do that, you go muck the zebra stalls" or "The little American and I are done with the giraffees for the day."
6.) Some of the German keepers are interested in hearing me speak in English or in learning English words, and this is a great opportunity to create some comeraderie. This week I had the whole department roaring with laughter about the English word "squeegee."
A few quotes from my days here in Germany:
"She doesn't talk with a potato in her mouth!" An administrative assistant at the zoo (in German). She explained that native-German speakers make fun of American accents by saying we talk like we all have hot potatoes in our mouths.
"Your accent strong, but I unnerstand, so good job anyway," waiter with a faux-hawk (in English). Thanks, dude.
"Is it....a crocodile?" Four-year-old Paul (in German) when I drew him an ANT-EATER!
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