Incoherent Scribblings

I will admit it: I am right-left challenged. Unlike many women, I don’t have a problem with north, south, east, or west, but for some reason I frequently mix-up my right and left. These mix-ups have been the source of many jokes between A. and me and can be frustrating at times, but before I came to Germany I never realized that mixing up right and left could put me in danger.

On German streets, the rule is right before left and they take this rule very seriously. It doesn’t matter if you are on a bicycle or in a car; the American attitude that whoever gets to the intersection first has the right of way is completely unacceptable in Germany. (I believe technically the “right before left rule” is also true in America, but in all of my years driving, I never saw anyone obey it.) In Germany, if you drive on when you should be obeying the right-before-left rule, the other person is extremely unlikely to stop, and if you so happen to get into an accident, it will be your fault.

When I took my written driver’s test here in Germany (I didn’t have take a driving test) I passed with flying colors. In theory I have no problems whatsoever with “right before left.” In practice however, it is another matter. It isn’t because I don’t agree with the rule; it is because of my right-left difficulties.

In fact, A. believes that I am so right-left challenged that he will be the first to admit that he is very uncomfortable with me driving here. Therefore, since we only have one car, Germany has decent public transportation, and to give my husband peace of mind, I don’t drive very often anymore. And honestly, I don’t mind.

It is amazing how lazy I was an American driver. For example, I used to drive one block to the convenience store near my house for a candy bar or a can of Coke instead of walk! But I digress…

Ever since we came to Germany, I have thought I might like a bicycle. It would be great to have one to use as transportation, but also for fun and exercise. I loved riding my bike as a kid and I was never in such great shape as I was the summer that I had no car and had to bike to work everyday.

Whether or not I would actually use a bicycle here in Germany or not is still up in the air. I like to think that I would, but in all likelihood it is probably just another one of my whims.

However, when I mentioned to A. that a bicycle might be something he could get me for my birthday this year, a look of doubt came into his eye. I gave him my reasons for wanting a bicycle and though he listened with skepticism at my eagerness for exercise, in the end he reluctantly agreed that if I wanted a bike I could have one. When I sensed this lack of enthusiasm in his voice, I assumed it had to do with the price. After all, even used bicycles aren’t cheap in Germany.

No, he told me it wasn’t the price that had him concerned. When I quizzed him about what it was, I had to promise not to get mad before he would tell me. As we all know, when a man says that to a woman the chances that she won’t get mad are very slim, but I promised anyway.

He told me that one of the main reasons he wasn’t eager for me to get a bike was because he was concerned for my safety. He said that even though we have lived in Germany for three years and he knows that I am aware of the right before left rule, he still didn’t trust me to always look to my right instead of my left for the traffic!

At first I was a bit irritated. But since I promised not get mad, I stopped and reflected on this statement. And in the end, I had to admit to myself that sadly enough, he probably has a point.

Today’s entry, “Take Two Aspirin…,” is brought to you by Expatica.com!

For the last few days I have been battling a chest cold. It’s nothing that I won’t get over on my own in a few days time, but ever since I started sniffling A. has been threatening to send me to the doctor. In fact, whenever either one of us has a little cough, a slight fever, or a runny nose, A. is very adamant that if we don’t get over it in 48 hours time we should go to the doctor.

Even when we were still living in the States A. had this point of view. At the time, even though we both had jobs and health insurance I found this attitude rather odd. As most Americans will tell you, even with health insurance, we just don’t go to the doctor for every little scrape or sniffle.

Americans are masters of over-the-counter medication. Fever? No problem. Just go to Wal-Mart and pick up some aspirin or Tylenol. Runny nose? Stock up on Kleenex and decongestant. Scraped knee? Clean it up with peroxide and slap a Band-aid on it. It isn’t until we have had an affliction for at least a couple of weeks that we break down and see the doctor… and only because you can’t get antibiotics without a prescription.

However, things in Germany are different. Germany is a land with a national health care system. Everyone here is required to have health insurance and the people aren’t afraid to use it.

As an American with a natural skepticism of doctors, the idea of running to the doctor with every little ache or pain has taken some getting used to. It just seems silly to visit the doctor because I have a virus that he or she really can’t do anything about anyway. Honestly, I am not sure I will ever be able to casually make an appointment with a doctor just because I have a cold; it just seems like a waste of my time.

I must confess though, that in some ways it is nice. Dental care and yearly eye examinations are not treated as separate entities here, but as part of one’s regular health care. I haven’t seen so clearly in years and since my arrival in Germany, my teeth have never been so pearly white.

However, in other ways it is quite troublesome. Everything related to pharmaceuticals must be purchased at the pharmacy, and though over-the-counter medication exists here, even something as simple as aspirin is only sold to you upon request. Many more things require a doctor’s prescription and since there are no 24 hour pharmacies, you better hope that when you get a headache and discover you have no aspirin that it isn’t Saturday evening.

It just so happened that it was Sunday evening when A. hugged me and realized I had a fever. From his ingrained German health care point of view, this warranted rushing me to the emergency room so that I could immediately see a doctor. However, my American sensibilities won out when I suggested that I just take a couple of aspirin and go to bed. I agreed that if my fever hadn’t broken by morning I would go see the doctor.

Luckily for me, on Monday morning my fever had subsided. Once again I managed to avoid visiting the general practitioner’s office where, instead of leaving with a miracle cure, I’m sure I just would have picked up more germs than I had to start with.

Last year, I wrote a very brief post about “Denglish” and had always thought I would come back to the topic and write something more substantial at a later time. Well, a couple of weeks ago, I finally wrote it and posted it over on my expatica.com blog. However, I thought I would also post it here so that everyone who comes to “Culture Shock and the blondelibrarian” might have a chance to read it. Enjoy!

Two of the most common definitions of Denglish (sometimes called Germish) are: 1.) a language based on German grammar that includes a jumble of English and pseudo-English idioms, or vice versa and 2.) speech or text that uses a mixture of German and English words.

As a native English speaker in Germany I have found it interesting to see and hear all of the English that permeates the German language. What I find most unsettling though, is that while many English words introduced into German have the same meaning as they do in English, many do not. Behold the “Curse of Denglish.”

For me, there are three Denglish words that come to mind as the greatest offenders and they are das Handy, das Mobbing, and der Smoking.

Das Handy translates to cell phone and is probably the first and foremost example of Denglish in German. Because cell phones are so prevalent in Germany, I can honestly say that one of the first “German” words I learned was “Handy.” I have always thought that “Handy” was an odd choice for the translation of “cell phone,” and I remember trying to convert my in-laws to “Mobiltelefon,” but it was too late.

Everyone here calls a cell phone a “Handy,” and when I finally bought my first cell phone about 6 months ago I had no trouble calling it that either. Truthfully, I suppose the term “Handy” does have its logic. After all, a cell phone can be damn “handy” at times!

However, in my opinion das Mobbing and der Smoking have no basis in logic and their German translations are so far from their English meanings that until faced with them I never would have had any idea what they meant in German.

For example, one day last spring I was sitting in my Business German class and we were doing a listening exercise. On the tape there was a woman who was complaining about how her colleagues were treating her. My teacher asked if we knew the word for this. At that time, she looked directly at me and asked what this was called in English. I tried to look like I was thinking it over, but honestly I was clueless.

Suddenly, one of the ladies in my class whispered to me “Mobbing.” Then it was clear. I had heard the term “das Mobbing” before, but thought the translation of it was so bizarre that it must be something that wasn’t used all that often.

Imagine my surprise to find out that it is a common business term! In German, “das Mobbing” translates to “workplace bullying,” which is exactly what the woman on the tape was describing.

Der Smoking is similarly strange. As we all know, in English smoking refers to the process of inhaling or exhaling the fumes of burning tobacco (or other substances). Perhaps at one time the idea of smoking spoke of elegance and refinement, but now in America it is seen as a public nuisance and health threat.

In German, der Smoking has absolutely nothing to do with the act of smoking. I was informed that der Smoking is an article of clothing. Therefore, at first I thought perhaps der Smoking referred to a smoking jacket. However, that is false. When I looked it up in my German-English dictionary I found out that it translates to a tuxedo of all things!

And so, fellow English speakers (native or otherwise), please remember that even if they understand your English here in Germany, it doesn’t necessarily mean that you will understand theirs!

Well, it finally happened! After two years of disappointment, I finally got to witness the raising of the Maypole today! The weather was warm and beautiful and I took a whole bunch of pictures.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t nearly as traditional as I had hoped it would be. Oh sure, there were lots of people running around in Lederhosen and Dirndls with mugs of beer in their hands and nibbling on pretzels. There was even a little Bavarian band playing music with little girls in pigtails dancing a jig. (Do they even dance jigs in Germany? I don’t know.)

According to what I have read, there are many traditions surrounding May Day in Germany, and Bavaria in particular. Certain traditions such as placing a tall straight tree in the village and decorating it with a wreath of spring flowers and colorful ribbons or stealing the Maypole of the neighboring village holding it for ransom take place a couple of days before May first, so I didn’t think I would get a chance to take part in them.

However, I was hoping to witness a Maibaumkraxeln (Maypole climbing) contest where I could watch guys battling each other in order to see who could climb up the shaven and polished tree trunk the fastest to impress the girls. I am sorry to say though that there was no such contest. In fact, rather than a bare tree trunk with ribbons around it, the Maibaum had already been painted Bavarian blue and white.

If truth be told, today’s Maifest was very 21st century. In addition to the prefabricated Maibaum, there weren’t 20 guys in Lederhosen heave-hoeing the Maibaum into place, but rather a crane that merely raised the Maibaum into place. I was slightly disappointed, but enjoyed the spectacle nonetheless.

As a matter of fact, the highlight of the day turned out be that our village had a new Maibaum this year. This in and of itself wouldn’t have been such a big deal, but the new Maibaum didn’t quite fit into the Maibaum stand. So, while still being held into place by the crane, the guys had to use an axe and chainsaw to chip enough of the base of the Maypole away so that it could be secured.

It was rather amusing. First they cut a couple of little squares a centimeter or two deep with the chainsaw on the base of the pole and then they hacked them away with the axe. They then tried to bolt the pole to the stand, but it still didn’t fit. So they had to do it over again.

Once the Maibaum was finally secure, no one even climbed up the pole to remove the crane’s chain from it! A fire truck came, extended its ladder, and a couple of guys (who weren’t even wearing Lederhosen) took it off. Bah!

After the Maypole raising “ceremony,” the band starting tooting their horns again and everyone else went back to drinking beer and eating pretzels. Behold “The Raising of the Maibaum”… 21^st Century Style!

In the seventies, a “study recommended that the United States implement a carefully planned transition to predominant use of the metric system over a ten-year period,” and as a result, the U.S. Metric Board was established. Unfortunately for the U.S. Metric Board,

“[its] efforts … were largely ignored by the American public, and, in 1981 the Board reported to Congress that it lacked the clear Congressional mandate necessary to bring about national conversion. Due to this apparent ineffectiveness, and in an effort to reduce Federal spending, the Metric Board was disestablished in the fall of 1982.” — from “Toward a Metric America: The United States and the Metric System”

I don’t remember exactly, but I think I was in third or fourth grade when the Metric System was introduced to us in math class. Up until junior high school I was fairly good in math and thought that there was certain beauty to the Metric System. It seemed so nice (and logical!) that everything was based on 10.

However, that was in 1983 and by the time I learned the Metric System, its virtues were not being praised by the American public. At the time, my elders scornfully said, “Eh, who needs the Metric System anyway? Inches, pounds, and miles have always worked just fine for me!” And, “The Metric System? It is just a Commie plot to undermine the great U.S.A.!”

So, while the rest of the world used the Metric System, it was glazed over in math class as one of those things we had to learn, but (as I would later say about algebra) something that we would never use in “real life.” Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine that I would eventually end up somewhere where I would encounter the Metric System (or the International System of Units – abbreviated SI) on every corner.

But this is Germany and here (as in almost the entire rest of the world) the Metric System rules.

For the most part, though, I don’t mind the Metric System. As I said, since everything is based on 10 it is very nice and quite logical. Sure, sometimes I wish I only had to put 3 gallons of milk in my refrigerator a week instead of 12 liters, but that is merely a minor inconvenience.

Personally though, I think that for Americans living abroad one of the most fundamental lifestyle changes has to be converting to the Metric System. It isn’t hard: In comparison to learning a new language, for example, it is quite simple. All you need to know are your factors of ten.

It isn’t the math. What I think is most difficult about the Metric System is the abstract concept of just “how much” one of these units is. It is easy to recite like a parrot that there are 1000 millimeters, 100 centimeters, or 10 decimeters in a meter and that a kilometer is equal to 1000 meters, but the fundamental question remains:

Exactly how long is a meter?

I have discovered that amazingly enough, most metric units have rough American equivalents. For example, that meter? About a yard. Of course, then A. fires back at me, “How long is a yard?”

As every good American knows, a yard is three (3) feet. However, is this how I respond to A.’s question? No, I respond based on what my grandma used to tell me: A yard is roughly the distance from my nose to the tips of my fingers.

This, replies A., is exactly the problem with American units. Too many were based on arbitrary measurements like the distance between nose and fingers or the length of one’s foot and, as a result, the math is horrendous.

“For example,” he quips, “how many feet are in a mile?” Without a reference chart or conversion calculator, I have no idea. (5,280)

In all honesty, once you get past the abstract notion of “how much,” the Metric System is, by far, easier to use and it didn’t take me long to get used to it. However, I wouldn’t say that I am a convert by any means. Because even though I can understand and use the Metric System, I still think in feet, gallons, and pounds.