“Chramer, gip die varwe mir! Germans and Colors“

The findings suggest that after learning a second language, people never look at words the same way again.

“The Neural Advantage of Speaking 2 Languages” (Scientific American)

In wayfarer’s worlds out west was once a man,
A man I come not to bury, but to praise.
His name was Geoffrey Lebowski called, yet
Not called, excepting by his kin.
That which we call a knave by any other name
Might bowl just as sweet.

“Two Gentlemen of Lebowski” (via BoingBoing)

Of course Germans don’t hear this literally, as I as a non-native speaker do.  To them it means simply “Happy New Year”.  But why “slide” instead of just wishing people a Happy New Year?  It’s an example of the German superstition that it is bad luck to wish someone well for an event that has not yet happened. For example, Germans do not wish someone happy birthday before midnight of the actual date of birth. In fact, many people usher in their birthday with champagne at exactly midnight on the day. Wishing someone a “good slide into the New Year” is a way to wish them well for the new year before midnight on New Years’ Eve, without jinxing them. Once that moment in time is passed, it is then appropriate to wish everyone Happy New Year. Which I will hear from friends and shopkeepers starting tomorrow.

Thanks to my husband for the cultural edification, and I wish everyone a Good Slide!

“Boy, those Germans have a word for everything!” — Homer Simpson

I am continually astounded by the beauty of my second language.  I do not mean the sounds made by the voice when speaking it, which often sound like gravel being crushed by angry chainsaws (and sometimes feel like it too!). I mean the elegance, poetry, and sometimes incredible efficiency of expression in the German language.

German words are often complete pictures in and of themselves. They can be poetically descriptive and at the same time observationally efficient. For example, der Handschuh, the German for “glove”, literally means “hand-shoe”; der Fingerhut, “thimble”, literally translates to “finger hat”. Charming! Create whole sentences from such words, and the richness of expression can be breathtaking. I’m not the only one to have noticed:

There are some German words which are singularly and powerfully effective. For instance, those which describe lowly, peaceful, and affectionate home life; those which deal with love, in any and all forms, from mere kindly feeling and honest good will toward the passing stranger, clear up to courtship; those which deal with outdoor Nature, in its softest and loveliest aspects — with meadows and forests, and birds and flowers, the fragrance and sunshine of summer, and the moonlight of peaceful winter nights; in a word, those which deal with any and all forms of rest, repose, and peace; those also which deal with the creatures and marvels of fairyland; and lastly and chiefly, in those words which express pathos, is the language surpassingly rich and affective. — Mark Twain, “The Awful German Language”

So effective are many of these words that English speakers have already adopted them for their own, to fill expressive gaps left by the impressive vocabularic jumble that is the English language:  Schadenfreude, Kindergarten, Zeitgeist, and many others. But there are many more expressions I encounter as my German skills improve that have no English equivalent.

Certainly all languages in the world contain words and phrases that do not translate easily into any other language, because they express concepts that are very specific to the culture from which the language emerged. However there are several to be found in German which I think readily describe phenomena familiar to any English speaker, but for which we (currently) have no ready expression — or at least, none as linguistically descriptive. Here are a few of my favorites. Enjoy!

Schnapsidee: literally “booze idea”, meaning a crazy idea.  No doubt about it, German culture is an alcohol culture. Centuries of experience with liquor and its effects have built up a rich alcohol-related vocabulary. Schnapsidee describes an idea that impresses your barmates after several hours’ boozing, but that on sober reflection is certifiably insane. This word also provides an elegant social reprieve, for example when your drinking buddy shows up the next day asking about the details of that 10-week moped tour across the Himalayas, you can respond “Oh man, that was just a Schnapsidee!” and all is forgiven and forgotten. (Exception: any of the bets made on the TV show “Wetten, Dass…”, which I’m convinced all started as Schnapsideen before making it onto the show.)

Sitzpinkler: literally “a man who sits down while peeing”, meaning wuss or wimp.  I’ll admit it, this one is sexist, but funny! In fact, considering how much better the bathrooms look when men sit rather than stand to do their business, I could hope that in modern times it comes to mean “man who, sharing a bathroom with a woman, is sensitive enough to keep the bathroom clean and/or leave the toilet seat down”.

Eierlegendewollmilchsau: literally “egg-laying wool-producing milk pig”. This word illustrates the concept of something being all things to all people — and includes the impossibility of such a thing’s existence.  For example, the desire to produce a perfect computer operating system could be expressed as a hunt for an “Eierlegendewollmilchsau”. Also a wonderful derogatory term for a product that promises more than it can possibly deliver.

I will update this post as more words tickle my fancy. Got a suggestion?  Post it in the comments!

One of my many failures in the language has to do with pronounciation of German vowel sounds. In addition to the problematic umlauted vowels (“ä”, “ö”, “ü”) — which every beginner in the German language knows are built only for mouths that have spoken German since birth — the German language includes subtler differences in long and short vowels. These are easy for English-speakers to pronounce, but dastardly hard to recognize and remember where and when they appear.

My husband, being a helpful fellow (and because he is tireless in trying to stop me mangling his native language), suggested the following practice exercise.

Schaf, the German word for “sheep”, is an example of a long “a”.
Schlaff is the German adjective for “droopy, floppy”, and is an example of a short “a”.
(I won’t presume to try to describe here the difference in the sounds; my need for this exercise already demonstrates that I have no clue why they sound different. Let me just say they vary in the length of the “aaaaah” noise you make in the middle of each word.)

For the next few days, I absently mutter “schlaff schaf schlaff schaf” in an endless loop to accustom my speech to the sound and taste of the different vowels. After this repetition, the words had lost their meaning to simple pronounciation exercises. Until I found my (then) boyfriend laughing at me — which is in and of itself not unusual.

“What?” I asked, somewhat paranoically (which is also not unusual).
“You sound hysterical!”
“What do you mean? Am I still saying it wrong?”
“No, but how would you react to me wandering around muttering ‘floppy sheep floppy sheep’ to myself??!”

Have to admit I saw his point.

Playing on the German tendency to mash multiple words together to create new ones (which I personally adore and often abuse), “floppysheep” came to symbolize my difficulties with the German language.

(I would like to note that I have since advanced far enough in the German language to realize that because Schaf is a neuter noun that the grammatically correct phrase is ein schlaffes Schaf. But that fact has little to do with the current story and is just here to prove I’m not still completely hopeless at German.)