The awful German Language

[Rockstar]

So, as a youngster I lived in Minnesota and Wisconsin. It was common 'up Nort' to ask another "do you want to come with"? The phrase 'come with' is a direct translation from German and Scandinavian languages ending with a preposition. When I moved to the southern states. People thought the question strange and naturally would ask what do you mean come with? Come with who or come with what?

Also, southerners looked at me like I was from mars when instead of salt and pepper I put sugar, cinnamon and butter on my grits. What could I say it looked like rommegraut to me.

[Skybird]

Originally Posted by Rockstar

Also, southerners looked at me like I was from mars when instead of salt and pepper I put sugar, cinnamon and butter on my grits.

Put sugar, cinnamon and butter on roasted plums, and they will love you.

Grits with hearty, salty seasoning indeed is more uncommon in Germany, siuch food usually gets a sweet seasoning.

However: cook oats in milk and cream, season it with chicken broth instant powder and some vegetables like carrot, celery and garden leek, and then the clou: add dry powder "Schabzigerklee" (trigonella caerulea, I do not know the English name for it, maybe gipsy clover or bread clover?) to it.

Make sure you don't get bitten when serving it. Guests tend to turn wild when smelling it, it often ends with them starting to fight over the last portions. And be cautious when using it, if you get it on your skin, the scent will stay for many hours to come, it smells good but very intense. Its hard to wash it off.

[August]

Originally Posted by Rockstar

Also, southerners looked at me like I was from mars when instead of salt and pepper I put sugar, cinnamon and butter on my grits. What could I say it looked like rommegraut to me.

They probably figured you for a damn Yankee. That's how we eat them up here although we call it "Porridge".

[vienna]

My second ex and ger mother spoke German almost exclusively and, to me, even the exchange of niceties had the tinge of the angry or argumentative...

I have sometimes wondered if there was a German verison of Wheel Of Fortune in the Fatherland...

...I would rather imagine buying a vowel would not be very much of an advantage...










<O>

[Skybird]

Originally Posted by vienna

My second ex and ger mother spoke German almost exclusively and, to me, even the exchange of niceties had the tinge of the angry or argumentative...

The curse of German language is that the world mostly only knows the sound of the indeed quite harsh-sounding barrack yard drill. But that isd a clichée, like Hollywood's stereotypic depicting of Germans as dumbheads with Monokel and Pickelhaube. Like Enbglish, German can sound soft and melodic, powerful and deep. It can also, like English, sound harsh, coarse, aggressive. It depends of who it is who speaks, and what kind of voice he uses, and has. Imagine Orson Wells recitating Edgar Allen Poe on the famous Alan Parson album, the deep timbre, the masculinity and massiveness in its sound - and then imagine the same recitation done by some aggressive, lean, squeaking Hollywood scream-squeen - its worlds apart.
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Liebeslied (Rilke)

Wie soll ich meine Seele halten, daß
sie nicht an deine rührt? Wie soll ich sie
hinheben über dich zu andern Dingen?
Ach gerne möcht ich sie bei irgendwas
Verlorenem im Dunkel unterbringen
an einer fremden stillen Stelle, die
nicht weiterschwingt, wenn deine Tiefen schwingen.
Doch alles, was uns anrührt, dich und mich,
nimmt uns zusammen wie ein Bogenstrich,
der aus zwei Saiten eine Stimme zieht.
Auf welches Instrument sind wir gespannt?
Und welcher Spieler hat uns in der Hand?
O süßes Lied.

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Die Insel der Sirenen (Rilke)

Wenn er denen, die ihm gastlich waren,
spät, nach ihrem Tage noch, da sie
fragten nach den Fahrten und Gefahren,
still berichtete: er wusste nie,

wie sie schrecken und mit welchem jähen
Wort sie wenden, dass sie so wie er
in dem blau gestillten Inselmeer
die Vergoldung jener Inseln sähen,

deren Anblick macht, dass die Gefahr
umschlägt; denn nun ist sie nicht im Tosen
und im Wüten, wo sie immer war.
Lautlos kommt sie über die Matrosen,

welche wissen, dass es dort auf jenen
goldnen Inseln manchmal singt -,
und sich blindlings in die Ruder lehnen,
wie umringt

von der Stille, die die ganze Weite
in sich hat und an die Ohren weht,
so als wäre ihre andre Seite
der Gesang, dem keiner widersteht.
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