Bezirk  in Berlin© – 48: February 14, 2014
LOOKING AT THINGS FROM DIFFERENT ENDS OF THE TELESCOPE
Language is so much more than just words, and learning another language is so much more than just substituting a word in one language for a word in the other (which, of course, is why when you use Google to translate something, you often get nonsense). For example, the word “celery” in German is “Sellerie” – but, alas, if you ask for “Sellerie” in the grocery store, what you’re going to get is not something long and light green, but something round and whitish. That’s because, when you say “celery” in the US, it invariably means “celery stalks” but when you say “Sellerie” in Germany, it invariably means “celery root.” If you want “celery stalks” in Germany, you must specify that you want celery stalks “selleriestängel” – just like in the US, if you want celery root, you must specify that you want “celery root.”
SO, DO I HAVE ANY REGRETS?
From time to time, folks ask me if I have any regrets about leaving the US to move to Berlin. Do I miss my lovely house that was about 4 times as big as our flat in Berlin? Well, sometimes – mainly when I’ve trying to unlock the front door to our apartment house with one hand while juggling a bike with its basket full of groceries during a freezing rain (as opposed to sitting in my warm, dry car, pushing a button for the garage door to do up, and driving into my dry – and relatively warmer – garage). And often, when I have to settle for the odd phone call, more frequently, e-mails and Facebook posts to communicate with my friends, rather than sharing a great dinner and a fun movie with them. However, there are precious moments here that I wouldn’t trade for anything in the world! For example, having my fussy, sick, younger grandson (20 months) fall asleep in my arms while I sing to him the song I made up for my son and sang to him every bedtime for many, many years, and have my son tell me how that warms his heart.
IT MAKES SENSE, BUT STILL….
- Kids’ groceries: You know those little play groceries for kids’ play kitchens – tiny replicas of what’s in Mom’s kitchen? Well, this is Germany, right? And Germans eat sauerkraut, right? So it’s only to be expected that you could find tiny replicas of canned sauerkraut, but still….
- Restricted access to Legoland: In Berlin, Legoland is an indoor thing. It makes sense because this way it can be open 12 months a year (and, of course, the only way you can exit the Legoland is through the store, and the company wouldn’t want to forego the opportunity that presents itself when parents [and grandparents] have to drag their kids – who already are probably on a sugar-exacerbated Lego “high” – through the treasures of the Legoland store). We have annual family tickets and definitely get our money’s worth – if you go twice a year, you save 10 Euros on the entrance fee and if you go more than that, the entrance is effectively free. That doesn’t mean that you won’t drop a wad of money on expensive – yet marginally edible – food or make it through the store without buying something. It just takes a little of the pain out of those other expenses if the entrance is free. So, in an effort to squeeze just one more trip on our tickets before they expired, we took the grandkids to Legoland last week. Harvey was in a German class in the early afternoon, so the plan was that I would pick up the kids, take them to McDonald’s for lunch, and then on to Legoland. When Harvey got out of class, he would meet me there. Great plan, right? Well, umm, apparently not. It turns out that they won’t let an adult into the Berlin Legoland without a kid. Surely you’re familiar with the concept of not allowing kids in certain places without an adult, but this business of not allowing an adult in without a kid was an unanticipated twist. OK. It makes sense – what better place for a pervert to snatch a kid that in the total bedlam that is Legoland – it’s hard enough to keep an eye on one kid, and most folks bring more than one. If you who know the particular brand of Hell that is Chuck E. Cheese, you know exactly what I mean. [Although I must admit – at least Legoland is a better class of Hell for adults.] Fortunately, both of us have cell phones, and miraculously, I was actually able to hear my phone ring (since I’m half-deaf and the decibel level of an indoor Legoland approaches – if not exceeds – that of, say, your average a rocket launch). We were also lucky that the Arctic temperatures had abated for the day, so the kids didn’t turn into popsicles when I dragged them outdoors without their coats (and through the store, of course) and back to the entrance so I could meet Harvey and give him the required kid so he could enter the store. We did, however, mightily confuse the young lady taking the tickets, given that I had my receipt for having entered with the kids only an hour earlier. I’m just glad that Legoland doesn’t have some other obscure policy about not being admitted twice on the same day – then we would have been totally screwed! And, I’m glad that the gorgeous outdoor Legoland in San Diego doesn’t have the “no kids, no entry” policy, because Harvey and I were there years ago and we would have hated to have missed seeing it.
CLUTTER, CLUTTER EVERYWHERE!
Our house in the US was about 3,300 square feet; our flat in Berlin is less than 1,000 square feet. We got rid of a boatload of stuff before we moved. Then, while we were unpacking, we got rid of at least 10 more boxes full of stuff. And periodically I try to go through the flat and see if there’s something else we can get rid of because, for one thing, we can always use a bit more room and, eventually, we’re gonna die and whatever I get rid of now, our son won’t have to deal with them. [Having been dealt with the possessions of the Queen of all Hoarders, I really, really want to spare my son that experience!] One rule of thumb is, if it’s not useful or beautiful, you should get rid of it. But sometimes a thing is neither, but you still can’t bring yourself to part with it. One such thing I can’t yet part with is a jacket that hasn’t fit me in well over a decade, so it’s clearly NOT useful. And I don’t think it could be described as beautiful, either. It’s a black silk bomber jacket, with an MCI logo on the back. It could – eventually – become a collector’s item, as MCI has gone the way of most telcos. So that’s one reason to keep it (maybe). But the other reason is much closer to my heart that any potential monetary value it could ever have. I won this jacket. In a lip-sync contest! Yep! Our organization in MCI decided to have a summer picnic and the person in charge of the entertainment came up with the idea of having a lip-sync contest. I definitely had no interest in this, and the rest of the folks in my small department had even less interest. However, you gotta go along to get along in the world, and I came up with an idea that let my folks meet management’s expectations with minimal impact on their dignity. We were lucky enough to be the absolute last on the schedule, which made the impact even greater. We had had the pleasure of watching all the other folks struggle through long, complicated renditions of songs like “I Heard It On The Grapevine” while we just sat, smugly biding our time. We only practiced the day of the picnic, and went through our song maybe 3 times before we had it down. When our turn finally came, the looks on the faces in the audience were priceless after they heard the first few bars of our song and realized that we were going to lip sync “Tequila!” [http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tG6P2rBU-ho] Yep! We were perfect and we won the contest! We decided that if we had to do this next year, we were going to do “Wipeout!” [http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=W5D07c0dJuQ] – because it only had half the words of “Tequila!” So, nope – I think my closet is going to have to make room for this jacket for a little while longer.
IS IT EVER OK TO JUST SLAP A TOTAL STRANGER?
I just do NOT get it! I’ve never noticed this anywhere but Berlin, so I don’t know whether it’s the case throughout Germany or not. But folks will come to a dead stop in the middle of an entrance – to light a cigarette, put on or take off gloves, or just stare into space. They will also stop at the very top (or bottom) of an escalator, while folks behind them are bearing down on them. Since it happens so often, surely this has happened to the folks who do this, too. And wouldn’t you think that, if you’ve been the victim of this insanely inconsiderate practice, you would put 2 and 2 together and try not to do it yourself? Well, the answer to both aspects of this rhetorical question is, apparently, a resounding NO!! I swear, it makes me want to slap someone! And I don’t care if they’re 5 or 85! I just want to slap them ALL!!
THE INFLUENCE OF DACHSHUNDS
Given their name, it’s not surprising that many dogs in Germany would be dachshunds. So you shouldn’t expect that the short-legged, long-bodied look would appear in mixed breeds. And, indeed, lots of dogs here seem to have that look (e.g., a dachshund-pit bull combination). But sometimes it’s lots more amusing than others – like when you come upon a short-legged, long-bodied white poodle, with the standard poodle cut. As one of my cousins would say, “That just ain’t right!”
Harvey was out and about in the part of Berlin where the Frei Universität is. Many of the students there are Americans, as it is in the part of town that used to be in the American sector. He encountered a young American kid – maybe 17 or 18 – who had apparently arrived in Berlin only recently and the kid asked him for directions to the Universität. Harvey gave him the directions and then the kid said, “Wow! You speak English really well!!” Go figure!! Clearly the kid hasn’t been here long enough to hear English spoken all around town.
My blog machine has an editing feature where it identifies misspelled words, grammatical errors, and trite phrases (all certainly helpful). Curiously enough, it also identifies homophones. For example, if I’ve typed “weighs” it asks you if you really meant “ways.” I’m pondering accepting these changes some time, just to see what happens.
BE CAREFUL WHAT YOU ASK FOR
I don’t remember whether it’s like this in the US (nor even whether it’s like this throughout Germany), but dishes on most menus here in Berlin are numbered. There are so many Auslanders (furriners) here in Berlin that it undoubtedly saves millions of man-hours a year in giving and taking orders (and inconvenience of serving the wrong dish). But even this can’t preclude miscommunication between diner and server. For example, last night I stopped at the Asian kiosk near our flat. I’ve been intending to try it out (especially having seen our neighbors eating the food), and after a good, but long, day with the grandkids and with my better half being in the US for a long visit, last night seemed like a good time to do just that. Well, I THOUGHT I had ordered #4 on the menu. The lady at the kiosk thought I had ordered 4 dishes. Since it was so cheap (under $5 per dish), and it was clearly my mistake, I just paid for all 4 dishes and took them home. Fortunately the food is good, but I’m sure glad I didn’t try to order #7 on the menu!
WHAT’S IN A NAME?
As maddening as the German language is, there are some things that are endearing about it. For example, the German word for “shoe” is “Schuh” and the word for “glove” is “Handschuh” – makes sense, right? Well, some of the names for animals are equally appropriate:
- A sloth is a “Faultier” (i.e., lazy animal)
- A skunk is a “Stinktier” (and surely you can figure THIS out on your own!)
 ‘Bezirk’ is German for ‘neighborhood.’